IAAA Memories of the Eclipse of '99

From Gary Harwood

Although I was clouded out as well this time around I agree that this was a unique and extraordinary experience. Despite the poor weather prospects here in the UK, I decided to stay on my home turf and observe the eclipse from Mullion, a small village roughly seven miles north of the Lizard peninsula on the Atlantic-facing west Cornish coast. It was pretty obvious on eclipse morning that the previous weather forecaster’s dire predictions would be borne out as a large weather front had pushed in overnight with patchy high cirrus, a dense layer of alto-cumulus at about 7,000 feet and scattered low level cumulus from horizon to horizon.

As I had decided earlier to abandon any eclipse photography this was a great opportunity to relax and observe how the lighting conditions changed as the zone of totality approached. This part of Cornwall is remarkably free of trees due partly to the geology of the region -- apparently trees can't grow well on the huge outcrop of serpentinite which forms the bedrock here -- and to the once prolific tin mining industry which used the wood as fuel for smelting tin ore, destroying the already limited resources. From a vantage point high on a cliff top hill far away from any crowds, I had an unobstructed 360 degree view inland across a nearly treeless, gently rolling plateau, and out over the ocean, where, with roughly fifteen minutes to go until totality, the western sky had darkened to a portentous gun metal black.

Meanwhile, the main cloud deck had thinned sufficiently in places to allow glimpses of the partially eclipsed Sun surrounded by a beautiful semi-circular opalescent pale blue and pink halo waxing and waning as the denser cloud edges, now starting to take on a very pale sienna or ochre-ish hue, passed overhead.

The sky to the west continued to grow darker still, forming a dramatic backdrop to the dimly lit, scattered cumulus which were slowly disintegrating, tearing themselves apart into constantly evolving, fantastically contorted ephemeral shapes -- Goofy mutating into the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse while you watched. The Moon continued its relentless march. By the time the Sun was reduced to a crescent about equal to a two day old Moon a few isolated gaps had appeared in the clouds and what little blue sky was visible had acquired a dull gray metallic hue. Sunlight passing through the transient cloud gaps began to produce strange interference effects; rays of light appearing a muted blue-white through the gaps where they reinforced each other or pale lemon where they cancelled each other out at right angles to the now rapidly diminishing crescent.

Barely a minute to totality and the light level was now dropping at an accelerated rate -- the color bleeding from the Earth. Towards the south the alto-cumulus had thinned somewhat, while overhead, the color rapidly drained from the sky. Simultaneously, and with equal rapidity the light on the southern horizon, filtered through miles of water vapor, changed from a pale grayish lemon yellow through a dull green as the Moon's shadow approached. As the 'horns' of the vanishing solar crescent began to close thicker cloud covered the dying Sun blocking it from view at my location. What sounded like a distant murmur rose up as the massed thousands in the crowds below me and along the coast began to go wild. Looking out over a sea as still and black as molasses I just had time to collect my wits as the shadow came from the west.

In a heartbeat, and to my complete surprise, the entire cloud covered vault of the sky shifted in quick succession through a barely discernable ultramarine, rose-magenta, and a deep violet-mauve before everything plunged into darkness. Around the horizon the dull green present just before totality had now changed to a beautiful luminous warm cadmium yellow-orange quite different from the colors that one associates with a good sunset. Against this the stupendous cloud formations mentioned earlier were silhouetted -- titans guarding the path of enveloping darkness, banishing daylight. Looking overhead a feeble light paler than moonlight gave just a hint of the Sun's position. The detonation of countless flashbulbs punctuated the near darkness, a glittering constellation dancing arrhythmically along the coastline.

Totality ended just as quickly as it began. God turned up the celestial dimmer switch as the second dawn of the day came in from the west. Although my eyes were now accustomed to the dark, I didn't notice the same astonishing light effects as the Moon's shadow departed, but the glorious colors on the horizon did play back in reverse. Almost immediately the growing solar crescent became visible once again for a brief interval but everything was now anticlimax and essentially that was that. While I was deprived of the "cherry on the cake" at this eclipse I thought I'd take a somewhat Romantic viewpoint in that for me this eclipse was all the more 'magical' or 'mystical' for being partially obscured. To imagine that, like a divine manifestation, its beauty was too terrible for the unshielded eye.  Still, I imagine that no one who experienced this eclipse cloudy or not remained unmoved -- these are moments when instinct takes over from science and its explanations.

This wasn’t the first eclipse for Dave Hardy....

I would say that this eclipse was almost exactly like the one in Hawaii in 1991 (site of an IAAA Workshop!), weather-wise. You could see it in one place, and a mile away, nothing.

We took a cruise around the Scilly Isles and Channel Islands, and although our ship positioned itself right on the centerline, in the 'best possible’ position, we didn't get a sniff of the Sun all morning! Even so, totality was a magical experience, as a wave of darkness engulfed us. There was a golden glow around the horizon, with weirdly-lit clouds. I wouldn't have swapped that two minutes for seeing the partial phase, as some people did even in my home town of Birmingham! Having seen three eclipses in good conditions, I always wondered what a cloudy one would be like. Now I know, and it's still worth it. Still the most awesome experience in nature, and the nearest thing to being on another world for a few minutes.

Clive Barrows caught it on film too....

I watched the Eclipse at Fort Victoria near Freshwater on the Isle of Wight. I reached there at 09:35 and with all the cloud we had the first glimpse we caught of the sun was at 10:05. However by 10:20 the cloud was patchy enough to watch it continually from then on mostly without special glasses until 10:50. Here on the Island we had something like 98% view of the event and I managed to take 10 shots with my camera. When 'totality' occurred the effects on the clouds were what can only be described as "eerie" - producing a slight ray effect radiating from the eclipse. Much as though I would like to have seen the event at 100%, I still found it all worthwhile.

Jez Thomas gave it a go near Gary....

I did a spot of eclipse chasing in Cornwall, England. Unfortunately, it was my first eclipse and remained totally cloudy throughout. It was certainly interesting to see the darkness and the beautifully lit horizon, but I can't help feeling a little disappointed - I suppose it's like having a pedigree dog but only ever finding its collar. It had some very interesting effects on the wildlife, especially the birds, who who seemed to be in a blind panic.

Another interesting observation was to see the street lights turning on one by one as the darkness approached ( I found this particularly amusing because they are normally such a headache when using the telescope.)

All in all it was a wonderful experience - see you all in Africa for the next one!