Eyes skyward, millions of Americans were transfixed by the spectacle of a total solar eclipse midday Monday, as the moon’s shadow raced from coast to coast like a brush stroke across the canvas of the continent.
It likely was the most-watched solar eclipse in history, despite cloud-cover in some regions, and certainly the most closely scrutinized by scientists. Expectations were stoked by months of hype and ballyhoo, with more than two million social media posts filed in the 24 hours leading up to Monday’s solar spectacle, according to Talkwalker Inc., a social media analytics company in New York.
All told, 200 million people were within a day’s drive of the zone of totality, as the area of complete darkness during a total eclipse is called, but the epic traffic jams feared by state and federal highway officials failed to materialize. Indeed, morning traffic along several major highways to key viewing areas appeared relatively light.
Even so, satellite images taken byDigitalGlobe Inc. showed overflow crowds at choice viewing sites in Oregon and elsewhere along the narrow 2,400-mile-long corridor of totality. Many people pulled over to the side of the road to watch. At one rest area along I-95 near Santee, S.C., cars were parked four deep in places by midmorning.
For many of those who made a special pilgrimage to campgrounds, mountain peaks and parks, or who simply paused in their errands to gawk along sidewalks and roadsides, the fleeting minutes when the sun revealed its halo offered a moment of community, inspired by the clockwork movements of our sun, moon and home planet.
“There were maybe 40 million people across the U.S. looking at the same thing at the same time,” said astrophysicist Ed Guinan at Villanova University who has seen eight total eclipses. “That gives me goosebumps.”
It was the first time since 1918 that a total solar eclipse crossed the U.S. coast to coast. From Oregon to South Carolina, many people hit their pause button for a day of awe and high jinks. Challenger, Gray & Christmas Inc. estimated the cost of the day’s lost productivity at $694 million.
Stargazers started gathering along the airstrip at Glendo, Wyo.—smack in the middle of the 70-mile-wide path of totality—before dawn Monday. From the backs of trailers and vans, amateur stargazers set up long-lens cameras on tripods and high-powered telescopes.
“It’s like a Star Trek convention combined with Backpacking World,” said Kip Tani, who made the three-hour drive up from Fort Collins, Colo., starting at 4 a.m., with his family. “It’s quite a scene.”
In the Cascade Range highlands near Madras, Ore, 10 wingsuit enthusiasts attempted a coordinated group flight at the height of the eclipse, in a stunt organized by Outside TV. In Ketchum, Idaho, the local Sawtooth Brewery tapped the last kegs of its “Total Eclipse of the Hop” beer for celebratory toasts. And in Carbondale, Ill.—where the eclipse’s duration of totality likely lasted longer than anywhere else in the country—roughly 14,000 people congregated in Saluki Stadium for, among other eclipse-themed activities, a mass moonwalk set to a Michael Jackson medley.
For young Devlin McKim of Marin, Calif., the day had added significance. The eclipse fell on his eighth birthday. To celebrate, his parents arranged a trek of family and friends to a prime viewing spot in Corvallis, Ore. Their outing carried with it the promise of the ultimate trick birthday candle: the solar light overhead snuffed by the moon, only to flare anew as the sun emerged from the lunar shadow.
For thousands of astronomers and solar physicists, it was a rare opportunity to study the tenuous outer atmosphere of the sun—the corona—normally obscured by the star’s blinding light. Researchers scrutinized many aspects of the eclipse with 11 orbiting satellites, the international space station, sensors aboard 50 high-altitude balloons and thousands of ground-based telescopes.
Astrophysicist Thomas Zurbuchen, head of NASA’s science mission directorate, watched the eclipse aboard an agency jet flying at 35,000 feet off the Oregon coast. “I saw the atmosphere of our star for the first time with my own eyes,” he said. “I saw the lunar shadow sweep over the clouds at the speed of darkness.”
Atop Vinegar Mountain in eastern Oregon, astrophysicist Patrick McCarthy, director of the Giant Magellan Telescope Organization, could hardly contain his emotion. “As soon as we hit totality, we all yelled out. It was such a visceral reaction. The corona was brighter today than I would have expected.”
At the same time, thousands of student astronomers and volunteer sky watchers collected data through telescopes, other high-altitude balloons and personal smartphone cameras. They also studied how animals reacted to an eclipse.
At California’s Oakland Zoo, a troop of hamadryas baboons seemed listless, with many of them in hiding at the height of a partial eclipse there that darkened the skies like sunset. Nearby, three camels also displayed unusual behavior, huddling together and swinging their necks around.
“The camels are acting weird,” said zoo spokeswoman Erin Harrison.
At Trinity Lutheran Church in Dallas, Ore., about 300 people showed up Monday to watch the eclipse and share moon pies, some of the visitors coming from as far away as Minnesota.
“We’re coming out of totality right now,” church treasurer Janet Brunner said at midday. “Kind of eerie.”
In Salem, Ore., people looking for a view of the eclipse overran the grounds of Morning Star Community Church. As the moon released the sun from shadow, Morning Star’s pastor Jared Boltman began to cry.
“It was amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said.
Wall Street Journal.
