An Astronomical Adventure for Abby and Richard
In 2012, I challenged all interested parties to Assignment: Team Blackout, to join my wife Abby and me on a journey to photograph the August 21, 2017 total solar eclipse at or near my mother’s hometown of Flat River (changed to Park Hills in 1994), Missouri.
As the date approached, my sister Nicole and her husband Tracey planned to join us on the first leg of their two week vacation. We decided to try to be in nearby St. Francois State Park, just a few miles north of Park Hills.
As the media hype grew, I started to feel serious misgivings about this mission, as did Nicole. We both imagined hurricane-evacuation-like 11-hour traffic stacks, sleeping in our vehicles by the side of the road and missing the eclipse as we sat motionless on the Interstate.
Abby and I asked a co-worker to care for our Irish Wolfhound puppy Hawken, and set off very early Sunday morning, the day before the eclipse, for Rolla, Missouri, with our Chihuahuas, Sierra and Max, the official mascots of Team Blackout, in the back seat. Our plan was to get up early Monday and drive the remaining 90 minutes to find a way into the path of totality, hopefully meeting Nicole and Tracey.
On Sunday morning, we got on the road early. I-44 seemed normal, as did State 8 which led us to Park Hills.
Nicole and Tracey arrived at St Francois State Park about 30 minutes before we did, and were amazed and delighted to find a small but growing group of eclipse viewers gathering in a large open area served by trash cans and rest rooms. She texted me the location and the words, “THIS IS PERFECT!”
Tracey and I set up a 10×10 foot shade tent I bought at Wal Mart, and it made a huge difference as we waited for the event.
The weather was excellent. It was warm with a nice breeze, and mostly clear. We weren’t alone in the park, but it certainly wasn’t crowded, and there was plenty of room to watch and work in the football-field-sized freshly-mowed clearing.
Less than a minute before the totality, a stray cloud covered the sun in our location, but drifted out of the way with just a few seconds to spare.
I was not particularly interested in photographing the crescent sun. I find such photos unremarkable, and I could have made plenty of those without driving to Missouri.
By the time the sun was 95% obscured, it was perceptibly darker around us, the shadows were sharper, and the color of the light was less saturated.
As the totality arrived, the crowd got quieter, followed by a gasp at the moment of darkness, followed by uproarious applause and cheering
The onset of the totality was quite abrupt, meaning the shadow of the moon was quite sharp. Some locations (Madras, Oregon for example), reported a longish appearance of the “diamond ring” effect, but we were quite close to the peak of the eclipse, and only saw the diamond ring for a few seconds.
I understand how pre-science civilizations might regard this as a portend or omen: it was different than any astronomical or meteorological phenomenon I have ever experienced.
The biggest reason for me to see this eclipse was a sense of obligation as a professional photographer. As my friend Wil C. Fry explained, “One of my reasons for not really trying to photograph this was: ‘Richard’s got this.’ So glad I was right.” Another person, a student, said, “I heard you should just enjoy the eclipse and buy a photo afterwards,” to which I responded that I should be one of the people selling the photo.
To fill the frame with the moon in front of the sun surrounded by the solar corona, I chose my 30-year-old Nikkor 400mm f/3.5 with its well-matched teleconverter, the TC-14, for a focal length of 560mm at f/4.5 maximum aperture.
Since I had never seen or photographed an eclipse before, I knew I would be guessing at the exposure. My first guess, f/8 at 1/160th at ISO 200 was a little dark.
I quickly adjusted to create a brighter impression of the solar corona, visible only during total eclipses. The corona is an aura of plasma streaming out from the sun. For my main photos of this phenomenon, I shot at f/8, 1/80th, ISO 640.
The drive home involved more traffic than the previous day, but only added about an hour to the trip. Abby and I decided we were very glad we took the time and effort to make the trip. The Great American Eclipse of 2017 was a success.
The next solar eclipse I hope to photograph occurs April 8, 2024, and will cross the southeast corner of our home state of Oklahoma.
I’m so glad you got to make this trip. Your results are incredible.
As you no doubt know, the next one, in April 2024, will go basically right over my city. I’ve never planned anything 7 years in advance, but I might just try harder next time. Thanks for the inspiration.
We wondered if we might purchase a couple of prints for our offices?
What an amazing group of photographs! I love these!
The joy and adventure of the trip comes through! Well written and edited, and nice photo selection. We’d love having a couple of prints of the eclipse for our offices. Sounds like the trip went exactly as you’d hoped it would months ago. We watched the event from a church parking lot across the street from our house; the light thinned and turned kind of greenish but of course we were a long, long way from totality. Appreciate your post.
I still can’t believe we pulled it off so seamlessly, from our virtually-concurrent arrival from different states, to the lack of traffic, ideal weather conditions, and Pleasantville-like viewing area (restrooms? seriously?).
And your photographs! To die for.