This eclipse ended up being an outstanding experience. I’m so glad it worked out so well for me and that a lot of folks across the path seemed to have dodged the worst of the clouds.
I’d been looking forward to this eclipse since I first found out about it in elementary school about 15 or 16 years ago: there was going to be a total eclipse where I lived! I didn’t know what it would be like, but I was excited for it.
In 2012, I’d really wanted my family to go west to catch the annular eclipse, but I had to settle for watching the partially eclipsed sun set from home. In 2014, I had a telescope and solar filter and watched the partial eclipse after school. By this time, I worried I might not be in Texas or elsewhere in the path in 2024.
In 2017, as I was returning to college, my family and I dodged thunderstorms in Missouri and saw a hair under 2 minutes of totality without any clouds. This was one of the most profound experiences of my life and solidified my determination to make sure I saw the 2024 eclipse, regardless of where I was or what I was doing. Later, I let my friends at college know they had an open invitation to come watch the 2024 eclipse with me.
Although my friends ended up all across the country, I ended up back in Austin. Last October, I drove a bit southwest to watch the annular eclipse and the odd light reminded me of the moments leading up to totality in 2017. I’m glad I caught an annular eclipse — it was really neat and I’d travel again to see one, but it really didn’t compare to totality. My friends booked travel to come out for the total eclipse and I began to be worried about weather. It seemed like a crapshoot: days in April in Texas can be crystal-clear, without a single cloud in the sky, or they can be 100% overcast. It has always seemed to me like in-between days are rare in the spring. I really hoped the weather would pan out, especially because some of them had missed totality in 2017 behind a cloud in Carbondale.
As April approached, the forecast turned grim and I began to fret. From the beginning, my plan had always been to keep an eye on the weather and be prepared to be mobile, but it was looking like the whole state would be clouded out. It would be amazing to see my friends regardless of the outcome, but they were traveling a long way on grad student budgets, so I wanted to try and make sure we could have success. A road trip to Arkansas with my friends would be fun, but the weather looked iffy even for that.
As my friends began to arrive, the forecasts began to turn a bit and seemed to suggest there might be less clouds in northeast Texas. We decided to make that our target location, as there was some consistency. I wouldn’t be able to catch the eclipse from my childhood home like I’d wanted, but we would try to get it somewhere!
The morning of the eclipse rolled around, and we took off for the northeast corner of the state. We’d prepared a road map with the path of totality drawn on it so that we could stay within it for the whole road trip, in case we encountered traffic and had to find an emergency spot as totality approached. The sky looked dismal, but as we drove north, there were some signs of hope.
Once we got to Corsicana, we began watching the GOES feed to try and figure out where there might be a hole in the clouds. Initially, we were going to try for Sulfur Springs, but as we drove north, the satellite showed low clouds building in. There was a hole in the clouds drifting north, so we decided to go a little bit southeast of there. It seemed like this hole would be positioned perfectly over Winnsboro for totality, so we made that our destination.
We pulled into a gas station with the partial eclipse underway. The sky was full of so many clouds, I was worried the satellite image was wrong. There’s no way it would be clear for the eclipse. We used our fingers to make little pinhole cameras, projecting images of the crescent sun on the asphalt. Shadows took on a strange appearance — very sharp on the right, fuzzy on the left. We drove a bit down the road to a supermarket parking lot and set up our chairs.
The clouds began to thin out, and I offered eclipse glasses to other groups of people in the same parking lot — a few took them. The light began to turn strange, as if the world were becoming desaturated. The clouds thinned more and there was blue sky with only the most barely perceptible haze. Here it was: it looked like we’d made it! The light took on an almost silvery appearance, and it began to dim further. The shadows got even stranger and the sunlight lost its warmth against your skin. The seconds ticked by more and more slowly, as anticipation built.
Suddenly, the gradual dimming around us accelerated. The lights in the parking lot turned on, the last bit of the sun disappeared, and it was twilight. We all took off our glasses and stared. I immediately noticed Jupiter and Venus flanking the sun. I grabbed the binoculars — the corona filled the whole field of view and I was stunned to see two prominences. Passing them on to one of my friends, I was shocked to see the same prominences with the naked eye! As one slipped behind the moon, I turned around to look at the horizon. Instead of the bright sunset we’d had around us in 2017, this was like the end of sunset — just a hint of orange glow in the sky. Our four minutes of totality passed in what seemed like the same amount of time as the last minute leading up to it.
The corona was stunningly huge (at least 5°-6° across, judging by how big it looked in binoculars), striking me as much larger than 2017. The color of the prominences stood out to me more than anything else — a ruby red so intense and saturated, it didn’t seem real, especially after the partial phases de-saturating the colors around us. The deep blue of late twilight, with Venus and Jupiter sparkling on either side of the sublime, alien sight of the eclipsed sun is something I’ll never forget.
After totality ended, we celebrated and had a great picnic as the partial phases unfolded in reverse. Despite the worrying forecasts, we’d done it! Four minutes of totality without a cloud anywhere near the sun. All our collective anxiety over missing it vaporized and was replaced by pure awe.
Having been looking forward to this eclipse for more than half of my life, it definitely made an enormous impact on me. The excitement, anxiety, awe, and joy of it all will stay with me forever. 2017 was really cool and made me an umbraphile, but this eclipse was so much more special in so many ways. Sharing the experience with some of my closest friends made it even more amazing and special. It’s taken several days to even begin processing my thoughts about this event, but I’m so glad to have had it work out.
Edited by cpman, 11 April 2024 - 10:39 AM.