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26 Seconds
Lyndhurst, December 04, 2002. A solar eclipse occurs when the moon moves between the sun and the earth, casting a shadow onto the surface of the earth. There are about 66 eclipses a century. Sometimes more than one per year (though not in the same location) and sometimes none. Totality is the exceptional period when the moon completely blocks out sunlight over an area of the earth. The duration of totality varies per eclipse event and location, generally lasting several minutes. Ours would last just 26 seconds. Probably less time than it has taken you to read this paragraph. Lyndhurst, South Australia exists only as a refuelling point on the road going south to Adelaide or north into the bush on unsealed roads. There are no natural resources or points of beauty to draw travellers. On December 4th, five thousand people gathered in this dry dusty place for the Solar Eclipse music festival, instantly increasing the town’s population two hundred fold. We drove 1,500 kilometres in a few days, lugging Belle, our old but much loved caravan. A high earthen ridge, site of a disused rail track runs through the festival site, dividing the music area from the camping area. The crowd assembles here for the eclipse. There is a quiet time between 6pm and 8pm so the eclipse isn’t competing with DJs. A bloke who looks like a Leprechaun joins us on the viewing wall. My heart sinks as he pulls out his guitar and starts bleating away. There is always one, compounded of course by the fact that there is also always a few more providing enough encouragement to keep him going. I don’t want to remember this eclipse to the tune of The Summer of ‘69. Mercifully he puts a stop to it as the eclipse builds. Viewing the sun through the eclipse glasses shows the moon making steady progress across the sun but the loss of sunlight is not noticeable until the eclipse approaches 95% totality. A slow hour passes between the time the moon can first be seen encroaching on the sun to the time its effects are visible. We wait patiently. With time apparently running out the moon finally makes its presence felt. A strange dusk starts to fall, the darkening sun creating watery colours and distorted shadows. The drop in temperature generates a cool wind as if to warn of the impending twilight that is racing towards us. Streetlights, if there were any, would light up and birds start their nightly roosting. The light dims further and the wind picks up speed. We sense that totality is minutes away. Only the tiniest sliver of the sun can be seen through the eclipse glasses but it is still too bright to look at directly. Excitement surges through the crowd; we are cheering, encouraging the moon to fulfil its destiny.
We know that something that will blow our minds is just about to happen. I notice my body is trembling; it’s surely just seconds away now. And then with an unexpected suddenness the moon slips across the remaining sliver of sun and the sky blacks out. Totality. The crowd roars it’s appreciation, our minds are truly blown. The diamond ring sparkles and a pale blue light illuminates the moon’s mountains and crevices. A darker blue halo does likewise with the desert landscape. I jump and shout with the Leprechaun, releasing the pressure of excitement that has built up. We are all cheering in unison. Its an awesome experience and hard to absorb it all it. Remembering to take pictures, I grab for the camera but my arms are trembling and I manage to shoot off a few, more in hope than expectation of getting a good shot. And then as suddenly as it came, it’s gone. The Moon’s moment in the spotlight is up and the sun regains control of the world. The sky brightens, and the show is over. The moments after the eclipse are confusing. In spite of what we have witnessed we feel let down. We have planned for weeks, travelled for days and patiently watched the moon make steady progress for an hour. Surely we deserve more than 26 seconds. Doesn’t such a magnificent spectacle warrant more than 26 seconds? But there is no one to take your case to. It’s over. It’s not a sunset; we can’t come back tomorrow, same time, same place. The precious seconds wasted framing photographs, observing the crowds, scanning the horizons. It feels like we got conned into checking out the sideshows and forgot to pay attention to the main event. Trudging back to Belle, we decided there is one thing to do. Go to the next eclipse. Hopefully see you there…
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