Everyone around me yesterday who ventured out to view the Eclipse was strikingly happy and friendly. It was as if the cosmos bestowed on us a general sense of good mood and good fortune, in addition to a spectacular celestial phenomenon. The collective experience of unusual natural events seems to promote a feeling of general goodwill. In this theory I would include another striking recent natural event, that being the New Jersey earthquake last week. I noticed everyone was kind of awe-struck and even slightly giddy talking about it in the aftermath. At the very least, they were fascinated to describe their earthquake experience. I happened to fly in from California late the night before, and was shaken out of bed by the curious rumble, thinking I might’ve had some tactile or auditory hallucination for a second, having still been half-asleep. But then after I fully wrangled myself into waking consciousness and realized what had happened, it was a full day’s immersion into a feeling of wonder and slight bewilderment among everyone I encountered. Obviously an earthquake can be dangerous, but this one wasn’t really, so everyone was basically able to soak in the novelty of an Earthquake originating in New Jersey.
There’s even less potential harm posed by a Solar Eclipse, making the atmosphere among viewers yesterday all the more pleasant. (Assuming they were mindful of their eye health!)
Without any real plan of action other than heading North from Albany, I ended up at a small public beach on Lake Champlain, in the tiny hamlet of Keeseville, New York. It couldn’t have been a better location. (This was after I put out a public call on Twitter/X for anyone in the Albany area who might have a spare set of Eclipse Glasses, as every big-box store and gas station I tried on the way up was either sold out or never had them in the first place. Most retail workers I queried knew exactly what I was going to fruitlessly ask them for, because they’d been dealing with a crush of Glasses-Seekers throughout all of Sunday. “We never even had them!” said one Target employee in Kingston, NY of the hotly demanded glasses. But even she was cheerful and good-natured about it! Anyway, I got multiple offers and successfully obtained the glasses!)
At the beach, I befriended a lovely 6-year-old girl named Elliot who came with a large group of family and friends, and somehow I became the main person helping her collect pinecones to make a fire she was very proud of. Her mom was trying to cajole her into enjoying the Eclipse when it passed, but Elliot was generally more interested in her fire creation, which I respected. Still, she was rational enough to take at least 30 seconds or so to train her focus on the rare heavenly event, at which time we shared a rapturous high-five. I’m not sure I’ve ever high-fived a 6-year-old with such genuine enthusiasm before. Everyone else I encountered yesterday was invariably helpful, friendly, and in a good or even reverent mood. I also don’t think I’ve ever been in a more cordial traffic jam, as I-87 moved at a snail’s pace heading south through the Adirondacks, as everyone departed the Zone of Totality which stretched across the northernmost part of New York State into Vermont and Quebec. If anything there was something oddly endearing about the traffic; for once everyone knew that everyone else was traveling for the same wholesome naturalistic purpose. It was also nice that ordinarily sleepy regions like the far North Country of New York received an influx of economic stimulus from all the travelers who came from all over the US and world. (I met a man from Ireland at my hotel in Albany, and on the beach with me in Keeseville were an older couple from Australia who were living in Manhattan.)
Everyone instinctively cheered and jumped on the beach at the moment the Eclipse arrived, and it was truly a glorious thing to witness. Having consulted some cursory educational materials beforehand, I took the suggestion of not staying transfixed on the celestial phenomenon the entire 3 minutes and 30 something seconds, and also absorbed my more immediate earthly surroundings. Sure enough, there was something spectacular to see, which will never again be visible for hundreds (thousands? millions?) of years — over the horizon of Lake Champlain, one could observe the actual edge of the Total Eclipse zone, as its path moved onward across the lake to Vermont. (See the main photo at the top of this post.) And so over the lake, which had instantly become very still and serene, you could see the literal Edge of Darkness produced by the Eclipse. Luckily I noticed this and was able to quickly notify people in my vicinity to take a quick look behind them, as the angle of the Eclipse had everyone’s back turned to the lake.
The charming little public beach I was on is adjacent to Port Kent, a disused train and ferry station — but a train rolled by at the moment of Peak Eclipse, blowing its horn in celebration! It was doubly charming that adults and kids were united in their authentic excitement. I can’t think of some other occurrence, natural or otherwise, that would occasion adults and kids to hop around cheering with the same unbridled enthusiasm. We even got to see the elusive “snake shadows” that appear on the ground just before and just after the moment of Eclipse, thanks to a knowledgable and prepared older man who brought along the required viewing materials (a white poster board.)
The afterglow from the Eclipse has seemed to persist even into this morning, when it’s still all anyone wants to talk about. Such a welcome surprise to have experienced something so universally relatable, about which everyone can so good-naturedly share their experiences. Even people who’ve told me they slept through the Eclipse or just didn’t bother to watch seem to have a gregarious disposition about the whole thing. What a great week!
Beautiful piece and as it should be.. humans gathered together to stand in awe of Mother Nature!
Not too sane I hope!!