As early as April or May, I began pouring over maps that laid out the path of absolute eclipse totality across the United States. Although I'm familiar with Carbondale and Makanda, Illinois, to there would be a farther drive than to somewhere straight south. Those areas were also getting a lot of news coverage, so I thought traffic from Chicago to southern Illinois would be bad. Traffic jams were being predicted all over the ranges of the totality anyway, so probably no where was safe from tons of folks and cars.
I chose Franklin, KY, as our viewing site, and had to reserve a motel room in Bowling Green, which was about a half-hour drive away. Everything closer was booked. The day before the eclipse, on Sunday, my partner and I drove out past Indianapolis, Columbus IN, Louisville KY, Elizabethtown, and Mammoth Caves before stopping in Bowling Green. We would have booked a tour of Mammoth Caves since we were going right by there, but there was no availability. Our little motel was near the highway and a Corvette museum. There was also a Corvette factory nearby, which was good to see from an economic perspective.
We got up early the next morning, picked up some more food and water from a grocery store, and headed to our envisioned viewing site. Franklin KY is a town of about 8400 off of Interstate 65 and Route 100. I had read that the main venue for viewing there was supposed to be the drive-in theater, with scientists from Pasadena and other remote locales attending and setting up their telescopes. And as far as the whole trip, although Google maps reported it would take 5 1/2 hours travel time, it was actually much slower with road construction and lots of traffic. Hence, patience is a virtue and perhaps a requirement when driving to and from an eclipse event.
We found ourselves setting up camp at Freedom Pavilion near the boat ramp at West Fork Drakes Creek. We met people who had driven from Ontario, Canada, Indiana, and Ohio. One man had set up his canvas shade with frame and offered to share it along with him and his dog. He was from Dayton and had come alone - he said his wife was a school teacher and couldn't get away. We met some locals, and a young man that attached his hammock to a telephone pole and his truck. He said he had recently graduated from Purdue University and was on his way back from a trip to New Orleans.
It was a hot August day, so we decided to kill some time by taking a dip in the creek. There was no designated swimming area and the boat ramp was taken over by families with fishing tackle, so we figured we were going to have to bushwhack our way to the water. We changed into swimming suits and walked down a weedy, overrun path to the stream. Pushing out through a muddy, mucky bottom, we were finally free and floating downstream. The water was comfortably cool and we paddled around, enjoying ourselves as we commented about the fishing line hung up in the overhead power line. "What an out-of-control cast!", one of us said.
So, we dried off, killed some more time, chatted, snacked, and then: the murmur built through the crowd. "It's starting!" We put on our eclipse glasses and looked up at the sun. The glasses make everything so dark, it's impossible to see anything else through them. Then, there it was: the black moon taking a bite out of the orange sun. The darkness started to surreally creep into the sky, little by little. The breeze became cooler. The insects and birds seemed to vocalize about the same where we were, although we were told their sounds might intensify. People looked through telescopes and binoculars if they had the right filters. Some folks ineffectively tried to take cell phone photos, but this proved impossible without the correct equipment.
As the sky slowly got darker and darker, the existing light became more eerie. Apparently the moon blocking most of the sun's light serves to focus and intensify what still gets through. So shadows are strangely sharp even though the light is low. As totality approached, I was very excited and my partner was very calm. People began to cheer as the sun disappeared from the strong daylight. The cool came with a rush as the sky got dark as twilight. A few faint stars appeared, as did lights of planes filming high overhead. The whine of a couple drones could be heard in our area, as I'm sure they were filming the event as well.
Then, the big moment came: we took off our glasses. The site was beautiful and strangely surreal. The gaseous corona was sharply white at the edge of the black moon, with feathery wisps trailing off. It was magnificent. It made a human feel very small, just tiny in the space of things. Yet, it also helped one see his place in the universe, and was rewarding to experience and witness this kind of natural, eternal greatness. It seemed a two-and-half minutes suspended in time, for posterity.
As quick as it began, it was over, and the sun started to come back out. People began to pack up their stuff and start to leave, hoping to get ahead of traffic. Sadly, most of them would soon find themselves stuck on the long treks down the highways. But hopefully for most, the unpleasant crowd memories would quickly begin to fade, leaving the image of the bites of sun, and the beautiful white ring, surrounding the perfect black circle of our constant companion and friend moon - forever imprinted in our minds, hearts and dreams. It's a day I hope never to forget. For me, all the effort was worth it.
