“So let’s get up early, have breakfast in town and queue up for the bus ride to Clingman’s Dome to see the eclipse.”
The solar eclipse was the cornerstone of our trip, and we had been planning on going long before Aimee came into our lives; Aimee just sweetened the deal. The National Park Service put together a well-planned, well-staffed, and well-organized trip from Gatlinburg to Clingman’s Dome for this once-in-a-lifetime event. Buses picked us up in town, maneuvered the roadway that had been closed since the last evening to public traffic and dropped us and 1400 of our closest friends off at the highest point in the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. 5 hours after the drop-off we were picked up and deposited back in the parking lot in Gatlinburg.
Just a word quickly about the bizarre obsession with pancake houses in Gatlinburg…we counted 9 in an approximately 2 mile radius (ok-maybe 3-5 mile radius?). Not sure if the Gatlinburg population, vacationers or locals alike are that much in love with pancakes, or that there’s great profit in pancakes (probably) but it really does beg the question as to the why it’s such a big deal in this small a community? By the way-the pancakes were terrible at our choice of restaurant.
Belly’s full we boarded a bus for “The Dome,” excitedly anticipating our long-awaited event! We arrived at Clingman’s Dome parking lot to find some incredible vistas of the Smoky Mountains.
We were early, and it would be hours before the eclipse would occur. We decided to follow a somewhat torturous half mile approximately 10-12 degree slope hike up to find Clingman’s Dome. We made it alright, but only to find out that the “Dome” had been subject to imminent domain by the National Park Service, various TV crews and NASA no less. Well hell! Along the way we discovered that a certain flowering cousin of the carrot produces a nectar that intoxicates bees, beautiful vistas, and lots and lots of absolutely friendly and knowledgeable Park Rangers who were more than willing to strike up a conversation and make everyone feel at home.
We perched ourselves across from the Park Service telescopes and occasionally peered through the lenses, ate the lite lunch we had brought long, roamed about a bit and listened to a lecture or two about how different cultures described the eclipse and why it is so important to make a lot of noise when the eclipse happens. Eventually we returned to our perch, and donning our eclipse proof glasses we stared at the sky awaiting the big event. As the spirit moved us we would run over to the telescopes to see things a bit more up close, and watched Venus and Mercury appear as the moon gradually crossed in front of the sun.
About 5 minutes or so before the eclipse strange things began to happen–the birds quit singing and flying about and bees stopped buzzing-it got absolutely quiet, there was a sense of twilight but with more gray than just gradual darkening, it got colder and colder, shadows lessened-at one point with the sun over Barbara’s left shoulder her shadow was only about 18 inches long.
The sun disappeared behind the moon and it became surreally gray. And we observers let out the loudest whoops and hollers we could manage, and our sun began to reappear in the sky. The temperature increased, grayness gave way to daylight, sounds returned and whatever demons took our sun retreated into their secretive places once again.
So how cool was the eclipse? The entire experience was cool enough to recommend that you should consider finding yourself a place to view the next solar eclipse. It is anticipated that the next solar eclipse in the US will be visible between Texas and Ohio during 2024.
August 21, 2017
Aimless Wanderings 