In 2017 Morgan and I were both working in downtown Springfield and walked up to the museums for their celebration of the full solar eclipse. Massachusetts wasn’t particularly near the path of totality, but with eclipse glasses we were able to see the moon cover most of the sun, going from a full circular light source to gibbous and then crescent and back again. We decided that the next time we had the opportunity to experience a full solar eclipse we would go all-in and head to the path of totality.
Making good on our promise, we decided to head north to Burlington, VT for the 2024 eclipse. The stakes here were high, with the next full solar eclipse in the U.S. not scheduled for 20 years. As a bonus, we’re in the final stages of getting ready to buy and build a camper van, and used this trip as an opportunity to rent a van and test out our ability (Cooper included) to travel and sleep in a van and have fun doing it.
With a van acquired and packed, we headed north to meet up with Atom and Aubrie. Having local tour guides made the trip much more special. Atom and I met last year on a bikepacking trip through our mutual friend Chris and have been friends since, and I was really excited to meet his partner Aubrie (who turned out to be his perfect compliment, exceptionally kind and giving). Our first day in town was spent walking along the Lake Champlain waterfront with them into Burlington and back south again for pizza and cookies at their tiny house. It’s so affirming to spend time with good people, and Atom and Aubrie are two of the best.
After spending a night sleeping behind a Starbucks, we headed to Oakledge Park early to get a spot for the big day. With bluebird skies and temps warmer than I’ve felt in months, we sipped coffees followed by local stouts and cheese. When the time came to get out our glasses, we grabbed folding chairs and set up in the crowd in the park.
We started to watch the moon approach the sun, and as their paths crossed we starting counting down towards totality. As the 70 minutes of partial eclipse progressed towards totality, colors grew more muted and a chill set in slowly. Looking up at the sky with our glasses on, the sliver of sun grew smaller in my field of view until suddenly everything went black.
We took off our glasses and looked around, surrounded by darkness with the overlapping spheres hovering above us, powerful and imposing. The protection of 16 stops of neutral density filter was no longer necessary to connect directly with the sun. The new object felt larger than it was in reality, bending space around it to take up more space than it normally owned. I can’t explain the implicit feeling in that moment, but my emotions felt entirely out of my control. I was equal parts comforted and terrified. If I was a member of an ancient civilization, I would be the first person to advocate for a religion dedicated to honoring this new entity.
The way we heard it described on the news a week prior to our trip was: Seeing the partial eclipse is like going to your kid’s middle school chorus concert, and experiencing the full eclipse is like seeing the Beatles live at Madison Square Garden. Even with modern scientific understanding and spending the better part of a decade anticipating the moment, it was outside of and beyond anything I could’ve expected.
Three minutes felt timeless, lasting both forever and just a moment, and then totality moved on. Much of the crowd around us started packing up, but Morgan and I just sat there in awe, occasionally putting our glasses on to watch the crescent sun grow larger. Color slowly came back to the world and we felt the warmth of the sun return to greet us.
I don’t know why we were drawn to travel to experience the full solar eclipse, but damn am I happy we did. Praise the sun.