Eclipse and Such

Every August, between the end of summer camp and the beginning of science camp, I get two to three weeks off of work. I usually have big plans of things I want to accomplish during this time, but invariably the list languishes on a piece of paper while I relax. I could blame the fact that I work hard during the rest of the year, and I would be partially justified. Although I don't consider what I do "work", it does take a lot of energy and focus. It's nice to not wake up to an alarm and do whatever I want for a few weeks. Lately, I've been on a mission to re-listen to all of my old records, which has been taking up much of my free time. It's an interesting process, revisiting those old slabs of vinyl, some of which I haven't listened to in decades. I listen to many of them with different ears now, although I find that in many cases this process has inspired new purchases. Curse my acquisitive nature.

This also partially explains my unusual silence here. I won't write and listen to music at the same time, because doing anything while listening to music relegates the music to background status. Focus goes out the window.

That said, I have left the house a few times. This week, I went on hike at Hidden Villa with Willow, my cousin Peter, and his two girls. It was a hot day on the farm, but nothing compared to the temperatures this weekend (it was well over 100 degrees here, and approached 115 in the central valley, which is highly unusual). A few days ago, Jeanine, Eva, and I went the Dali museum in Monterey. It was very much worth the visit. The day after that, I went to Filoli with Jeanine and her friend, Alina. I had been there as a chaperon on an elementary school field trip with Sophie, but this was my first unstructured visit. We wandered through the mansion and gardens, which are really quite impressive. Then, a couple of nights ago, Eva and I went up to San Francisco to see Greg and company perform at the Lost Church. It was excellent. To give an idea of the current heatwave, it was still nearly 80 degrees in San Francisco after the performance. The micro-climate failed us.

The major event of the last few weeks though was the solar eclipse. I had a series of plans for this, one of which involved the Atlas Obscura festival in Oregon (sold out before I could buy a ticket), and another of which entailed first driving to Las Vegas for a multi-day music festival called Psycho Fest (distance and expense eventually ruled it out). Then, Greg's old friend Dana was going to let us stay at her place in Fort Collins, CO, which was a mere three hour drive from the path of totality. This fell through when it turned out her brother was bringing more people than originally planned. Family before old friends, it seems.

Then, Greg got in touch with his friend, Alan, who had his eclipse experience so thoroughly planned that all we had to do was throw a bunch of stuff in the car and head for the hinterlands of eastern Oregon. Alan, in a series of very thorough e-mails, explained that we would be camping at a campground called Priest Hole, along the John Day river. This would allow us to approach the nearby Painted Hills from the north, rather than the potentially traffic-choked south. Painted Hills State Park had the advantage of being smack dab in the center of the path of totality, not to mention the fact that it was worth a visit on its own merits.

We did the drive all in one go, only stopping to eat at the usual place in Weed, and for gas a couple of times. As we entered Oregon on 97, there was a big, home made sign stating, "Eclipse canceled! Go home!". We ignored it. Traffic wasn't bad, all things considered.

We arrived at the campground around 10:00 PM, guided in by the LED beacon mentioned in the e-mails (did I mention that Alan is very through in his planning?). We ended up not erecting a tent. The Milky Way smeared the black sky above us, and it was a warm night, so why not enjoy the view?

We had a day to kill before the event, so Greg and I waded across the river and into the high desert hills. This took up the morning and perhaps the early part of the afternoon. Back at camp, we lounged and chatted. All told, there were slightly over 30 people in our group, making ours one of the biggest campsites. During the day, other people filtered in, filling the flat, rocky expanse that passed for a campground. Many people played in the river.

The sunset was beautiful. We went to bed relatively early because we planned to get up at 4:00 AM to beat the rush to the Painted Hills.

We did just that.

At the Painted Hills, we ascended a convenient ridge and joined the other people already there. The view was beautiful, and excited chatter broke the silence. At some point, after hearing that a park ranger had warned of scorpions, I wandered off the trail and found one. At the time, I wasn't sure what species it was, but once home and able to research it, I discovered that it was Paruroctonus boreus, or Northern Scorpion. I consider this an added bonus. Icing on the cake, if you will. Beautiful little creature.

In due time, darkness spread, the temperature dropped, a few confused crickets started chirping, and a black hole appeared in the sky, ringed by the sun's corona. It was, quite simply, an amazing spectacle. A flock of birds flew across the sun as we watched.

Totality lasted two minutes, and then sunlight speared our eyes, making us reach once again for our solar-filtered glasses. We remained in place until the shadow had passed completely away again, and then left the ridge.

Back at the campsite, we packed up and hit the road, full of plans for the drive back. Our plans died in traffic. There are a lot of interesting volcanic monuments along highway 97, but by the time we got there, they were closed for the day. Further south, traffic slowed to a standstill. During the worst of it, we traveled a mere 15 miles in around 3 hours. By that point, our backup plan of camping at Lava Beds National Monument was looking like it wasn't going to happen, so I pulled over and we slept alongside the road.

Around 5 hours later, we awoke to find the traffic gone, so I started the car and we continued our journey. We visited Crater Lake, which was obscured by smoke from burning southern Oregon, ate a much needed breakfast at the park restaurant, where we commiserated with the people at the next table about the traffic. Once outside the park, we headed for I-5, with the intention of stopping in Ashland for lunch. Along the way, we were sucked into the Oregon Bee Store to buy honey and beeswax candles. In Ashland, we visited a book and a record store, had lunch at the bookstore cafe, and bought ice cream before heading back out to I-5.

Our next planned stop was Shasta Caverns. I had been there before, but Greg hadn't. We made it just in time for the last tour. It was pretty much like I remembered it from the last time. Worth doing.

Afterward, our tour guide recommended a Thai restaurant in nearby Redding. We headed there and ended eating next to a couple of women who had been on the tour and overheard the recommendation. They had watched the eclipse from an alpaca farm. One of them called it the "alpacalipse". I approved. We also commiserated about traffic.

Then, we hit the road for the long journey back to the bay area. Just like that.