Chasing totality
“The only thing better than watching something big happen is doing it, whatever it is, yourself. ”
Unique opportunities call for unique actions.
When I first heard of the Great American eclipse, I made plans to take off early from work, drive to Shenandoah National Park, and watch the partial eclipse at the top of Hawksbill Mountain, the highest point in the area. 86% was a good amount, I thought, and it'd be epic to see it while overlooking the valley. A few weeks before the event, though, I was telling a co-worker we should plan for a whole group to go together and he declined my invite as he mentioned he was thinking of going to Nantahala National Forest, on the southwestern tip of North Carolina, to be in the eclipse's totality path. After some research on the exact totality path later that evening, I convinced myself to go for it as well.
On Saturday morning I packed my bags, loaded the car, and began my own chase for totality. This time I wasn't entirely alone; Mooch Dogg was in the back of the car chewing on the usual pre-car ride rawhide. We set off on a quest for "adventure", but to be honest neither of us had a good idea of what that would look or be like. The "plan" was to stay a night on the Appalachian Trail, on the state line of Tennessee and North Carolina, drive down to Asheville the next day for some (real, not freeze-dried) food, camp out at Pisgah National Forest's Black Balsam Knob Sunday night, and then head down to Franklin, NC on Monday morning for the eclipse. After totality, we would get back in the car and drive 8 hours straight back home to central Virginia. Momma couldn't afford using more vacation time.
Not a lot went according to "the plan" because "the plan" was not that well-thought out to begin with. I did not prepare well for many knowns and failed to at least recognize the vastness of the unknowns. On the first day of our "adventure", I realized Mooch was frightened at night in the backcountry, we needed more water, it was much cooler in the mountains than I expected, there was much more traffic than I had anticipated, the list goes on and on... and I could stop there, just mention the negatives and move on with the story, but to be honest, regardless of the minor issues we came across with that night, it was a memorable and gratifying experience. Mooch waking up every hour, scared of sounds in the darkness, meant I got to wake up with him and stargaze while I comforted him back to sleep. Absence of a water source near our campground forced me to be smart with how I managed what I had carried on the trail, and skip out on my leisure drinking so Mooch would have enough for the next day. Cooler temperatures called for some serious cuddling to keep each other warm. Lucid sleep guaranteed I would not miss the sunrise over the Smokies the next morning, which was majestic to say the least.
Sunrise over the Smokies, August 20, 2017
Sunday came with its own set of doubts and errors as I continued the journey down South. We ended up nowhere near Black Balsam Knob, the plan to drive down to Franklin no longer valid. After scouting for camping spots multiple times unsuccessfully, Mooch and I car camped along the Blue Ridge Parkway, near the Waterrock Knob trailhead picnic area, which was undoubtedly a premier spot for watching the eclipse more comfortably the following day.
Monday morning came quick and sleep seemed to have evaded me another night; however, the communal ambiance that could be felt that day since sunrise made a restless night irrelevant. The excitement and anticipation was electrifying, and in a way, made everyone there that day closer, like family. The sky was clear, the birds were chirping... nature promising an unforgettable day.
6 AM on the Blue Ridge Parkway, August 21, 2017
Strangers shared food and stories. Dads played ball with their children and every dog owner exchanged polite words of acknowledgement with each other. I sat down and listened to 70-year old Sunny D's thru-hiking memories and recent solo adventures, and then spent some time having lunch with the Kennedy family. For a few hours, all 100 families at Waterrock Knob celebrated the gift of marvel in unison as we patiently waited for darkness.
And then it started. The eclipse's partial stages crept up in percentage as the clouds rolled in and out of our focus point. We counted down the minutes, and finally the seconds, before the moon's path crossed the sun's in its entirety for about 45 seconds. The consideration of inclement weather would have been comical earlier in the day, but at 2:32 pm, it seemed like it would be the reason for missing what we were were all there for. It was a nerve-wrecking waiting game for all of us, but I'm not kidding, about 15 seconds before totality was projected to occur, the clouds dissipated to reveal it.
"Diamond Ring" on the Great American Eclipse, August 21, 2017
People clapped, cheered, and hugged each other.
"Look! The floor! The shadows, I forget what they're called, but look, baby!"
"There's a rainbow! The stars!"
"Oh my God it's so dark!"
We were all one collective unit and individuals at the same time, experiencing differently, thinking differently, seeing and believing differently, but sharing the same wonder. The magic lasted 45 seconds, after which the spell was broken and families became families again, Sunny D got back on the trail, and Mooch and I were each other's again. Without shaking off the immensity of what has just happened, I packed my bags, loaded the car, and began our trip back home.
I've read a few articles that said that even the most amazing, well-constructed photograph of the eclipse could not do the actual experience any justice. Nothing is more true. All my other co-workers who also experienced totality had similar accounts of the intensity of the moment that the total eclipse was for each person at an individual level, regardless of being with family, partners, friends, or alone. The difference between 86% and 100%, which translated to many miles and hours on the road, was completely worth it, and there's no doubt in my mind that if I'm alive and healthy, I'll drive wherever I need to to experience the next total solar eclipse to pass through the US in 2024. I urge anyone who missed totality last week and has never experienced a total solar eclipse, to plan a date with themselves in 7 years and chase such an awe-inspiring event.
The moral of the story is, sometimes you just have to go for it, no questions asked. There's times in life when you get one shot to pursue your dream, make a difference in someone's life, or maybe just witness a total solar eclipse. Waiting for someone, something, the "perfect moment", will most definitely hold you back from experiencing greatness. It's up to you to let that stop you or use it as fuel to get to where you want faster... and when challenges arise (because they will!), it's also up to you how you will use your mindset to shape an outcome. For anyone who reads this, male or female, I sincerely hope that next time you are given an opportunity for life-changing "adventure" (in whatever realm that may be), you seize it and live it, regardless of who, if anyone, is by your side.