Watching 2020’s Eclipse Via Live Stream
By: Jen Mcgahan
Tags: Life Lessons, Astronomy, Travel, Covid 19, Eclipse

Watching 2020’s Eclipse Via Live Stream

I should have been there, but it went off without a hitch

The diamond ring effect. Photo by Jongsun Lee on Unsplash

July of 2019 seems like a lifetime ago.

One summer morning that month I lay in bed and emailed an eclipse tour guide company out of the UK. In less than 17 months I’d be in South America chasing the eclipse. Since I knew I’d be traveling alone, I figured it would be more fun with a bunch of eclipse groupies. I inquired about their December 2020 eclipse packages.

Within hours, I had booked myself a spot and made a downpayment on a ten-day trip to Argentina, Chile, and the Patagonia Islands. The highlight of the adventure would be the total eclipse of the sun, viewed from somewhere in the Andes mountains.

The summer before that, I had started taking Spanish lessons, in preparation for my trip. It’s been a long time coming.

Instead, I watched it on YouTube

This morning I watched the solar eclipse from one Argentinian YouTuber’s camera-telescope on my TV. It was awesome… even though I wasn’t there in person.

His dog was crooning with worry in the background, the way of creatures who can’t make sense out of the sky going dark at entirely the wrong time of day. The swell of voices from the surrounding crowd of people could be heard as the sliver of orange glinted its last to black. Our two cats paced back and forth at the sound, ignoring the visuals on the big screen.

When the light from the sun splashed from behind the darkness of our moon’s shadow, I gasped. The same way I did when I beheld my first eclipse in Jackson Hole in August of 2017. I held my breath as the diamond ring effect surged, then calmed to a perfect black hole in the sky. I exhaled.

A regular, awesome experience

Celestial orbs follow their pre-ordained path since the dawning of our galaxy. Possessors of an unalterable dance card, they know the way. It doesn’t matter what happens to us mere mortals in the meantime.

We track the movement of our moon and sun from various places on the planet. We look up to the sky when special stars and planets come closer or further away, or line up just so in a spectacle that was incomprehensible a mere millennium ago. We travel to places on the planet where the view is good. We photograph it. Our minor human job is to witness the wonder.

Regarding a total solar eclipse, scientists measure and test their theories under an astronomical opportunity that occurs once every 18 months or so, and then only under a specific path. While it’s a glorious, once-in-a-lifetime experience for many, you can also set your watch by it.

“You had to be there”

Describing an eclipse doesn’t come near to doing it justice. If you’ve seen one you know.

Sometimes when I mention the total eclipse of the sun, which changed my life after first seeing the phenomenon, people say they’ve seen it too. Sometimes people say, “Oh, yeah, I saw the eclipse… I think… That was, well, when exactly was that?” That’s when I know they did not see a total solar eclipse. You’d know it if you saw it because you can actually feel a change on Earth beneath the path of totality.

I read an astrologer’s analysis of the eclipse this morning and she said she thinks eclipses are over-rated. I can tell she hasn’t witnessed one in real life.

A partial eclipse doesn’t count. I saw one once. I was working as a bank teller. We took turns stepping out of the teller line to run outside and look at the little half-moons on the sidewalk. Then we went back to work.

If you’ve only seen a partial eclipse, you didn’t see the breathtaking hush of daylight over four directions of the landscape, as if the sun were setting in 360 degrees. You didn’t experience sunset on all sides. The pink line along the horizon to the north, south, east, and west; and the stars emerging in the middle of the day. You didn’t hear the birds go wild, chirping and flapping; or the hum of insects.

During a solar eclipse, the twisting of daylight is hard and palpable as a sickle’s glinting edge. If you’ve seen that, you’d remember.

I hope you get to see one someday.