Eclipse Chasing for the Young at Heart
I had the 2017 Solar Eclipse on my radar for two years. As a childhood Science buff, I was determined to be in the house for the big show in my 60th year on the blue marble — but being in New York, the question became, where in the snake-like path of totality should my wife & I plant ourselves?

As I had a choice of places we had yet to visit (including St. Louis, Casper and Nashville), I settled on Charleston. Despite a friend relaying his plans to bolt SC for the event due to potential cloud cover, I was confident in my selection. After all, I had checked the Charleston weather during random times each day during the prior week — each time showing either sunny or partly cloudy. And our day of arrival (Sunday) featured only wispy, non-threatening clouds.
The waterfront hotel at which we stayed was making every effort to make it’s eclipse watchers welcome. Free food, music and a noon happy hour would make for a mass congregation of sun gawkers on the main deck.

But on Eclipse Monday, following a glorious cloud-free morning, a series of very obtrusive white-gray obstacles began to meander in off the ocean at around noon. When my wife and I texted our daughters back home on the impending conflict, the youngest relayed her concern for out vantage point, stating that we should get in a car and start driving to a clear spot. “In which direction do you recommend?”, I responded, along with a photo of Helen Hunt, further emphasizing my wife’s point that we were neither storm (nor eclipse) chasers.

So despite the cloud cover, I stuck to my strategy: a table for two with a wine bottle behind the deck glass (sheltered from the 98% humidity) with an occasional trek outside to join the bumper-car mass of humanity who after several drinks had forgotten when to use the eclipse glasses.
As the clouds moved in and I glanced up at the sun, I realized that the e-glasses not only protected your eyes, but actually allowed you to see the detailed disk lines of the eclipse. My elementary school years began flashing before my eyes as I had not stared at the sun this long since I was seven. Upon reaching totality and darkness set in, the crowd began to whoop and cheer wildly as if the rock band had just completed their final song and the wait began for the inevitable encore. Unfortunately, the clouds had increased at this point. I was able to make out the diamond, but any view of the corona was hopelessly obscured.

The issue here was managing my own expectations. My mind had played up this experience of sitting with my wife on the deck under a clear blue sky and watching the darkness slowly set in. Then at the point of totality, the stars would reappear, the corona would dance around the black sphere, the flowers would close, the dogs would howl and all the secrets of the universe would dispense neatly into my wine glass for discretionary consumption. Well not exactly.
Still, it was worth the trip just to travel back in time to my childhood moon landing vibe. So I look forward to the next opportunity in 2024 which will practically be in our backyard (upstate New York). I expect an April day in Rochester should yield either a cobalt blue sky or snow. But I don’t expect my strategy to change and since we will be close to the Finger Lakes, I do not expect wine selection to be an issue.