In 2012, I set a to-do on my phone. “Hey Siri, remind me to look at the solar eclipse on August 21st, 2017”. As the years passed, I occasionally lost photos and notes that weren’t backed up to iCloud, but this reminder survived every phone upgrade. Three phones and five years later, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I was finally going to check the box on the lengthiest to-do I’d ever created. After all, this wasn’t an event to miss.
Eclipses aren’t a huge deal. They happen quite often actually. Planets are constantly crossing orbits and aligning in different ways, some less frequently than others. A few times a year, the sun, moon and earth align to create a lunar eclipse, giving the moon a red tint due to the earth’s shadow being cast. Events like this often draw crowds of astronomy enthusiasts and photographers alike.
However, a solar eclipse is a different story. Solar eclipses occur when the moon travels between the earth and the sun, partially or completely blocking the sun from view. A total solar eclipse causes temporary darkness in the middle of the day (known as totality). Chirping birds fall silent, temperatures drop and the wind ceases or changes direction. Solar eclipses are rare; Total solar eclipses are extremely rare.
How rare? This eclipse would be the first visible from the contiguous United States since 1979. It is also the first with a path of totality crossing the Pacific and Atlantic coasts of the U.S. since 1918. Also, its path of totality makes landfall exclusively within the United States, making it the first such eclipse since the country's declaration of independence in 1776. Prior to this, the eclipse of June 13, 1257 was the last to make landfall exclusively on lands currently part of the United States.
Needless to say, this solar eclipse was a big deal for me and anyone wanting to witness astronomical history. Which, not surprisingly, turned out to be a lot of people. Nearly every RV Park, hotel, motel, and backyard along the path of totality was reserved for the event. Traffic predictions warned of huge delays and millions of traveling people. Cities planned for months to improve infrastructure to support such a massive pilgrimage.
Emily and I love solitude, but an event like this makes privacy hard to come by. The path of totality was passing over the Oregon coast, and parts of Yellowstone. Despite loving these locations, we decided they would see far too much traffic to make it worth it. Then, I had a thought. What if we could backpack to a remote mountain lake and watch the eclipse from there? We were sure to run into some people no matter where we went, but it had to be better than an RV park or National Park.
I turned to Google Maps and started searching. Following the path of totality, I found a lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth National Forest that lined up perfectly. This was the spot. We packed up our gear into Rex and hit the road for Southern Idaho.
Riggins
The eclipse was on a Monday, so we left on Friday to try and beat the traffic. Emily had spent time in Riggins camping and had fallen in love with the area, so we decided to camp by the river for the night. We pulled in at around 9:30 PM and were greeted with this group of deer. I have never seen so many bucks in a group like this before. There were, unfortunately, many fires spreading across the state at the time so I can only assume it had something to do with that, or maybe they were going to see the eclipse too. Either way, it was a memorable experience running into this bachelor party.
We made it to our campsite and took some photos of the stars. The sound of the river made for a soothing ambiance and we were asleep in no time.
The next morning, we explored the area and decided to go for a hike. The fire was extremely active and after walking alongside firefighters, we decided maybe we should stay out of the way and keep heading south. Emily was a bit disappointed but I assured her we’d be back.
The Sawtooths
There was a small traffic jam as we drove closer to our destination. Once we cleared the bulk of the cars, we approached the town of Stanley. Huge LED construction signs read “No Stopping On Freeway”. Homemade wood signs in front of RV Parks advertised eclipse viewing areas, most of which were already filled up. We approached the road leading to our trailhead…which was being blocked by park rangers. They explained that the trailhead parking lot was already full and that they were only letting in the same amount of cars that left. Frustrated, Emily and I decided not to wait in the line (already 10+ cars deep) and went to Redfish Lake to explore and get some ice cream.
After watching the sun go down, we had to come up with a plan. I was feeling very scattered and couldn’t decide what to do. I had waited years for this day and I wanted it to be perfect. After a lot of back and forth, we decided to drive back to the trailhead for one last chance that it might be open with spots. If not, we would head for a different lake at the other side of Redfish.
Driving up to the trailhead, we found no cars and no park rangers, so we went for it. We were able to find a few parking spots and, relieved, we turned in for the night.
The Lake
I could hardly sleep I was so excited. We wanted to get an early start and snag a good camping spot at the lake. We got up bright and early; I collected my camera gear and our food for the night and Emily and I were off. After a bit of an uncertain hike, we eventually found our way to this gorgeous alpine lake.
I met up with a friend from work who I had tipped off about this spot and then Emily and I found a camping spot. I convinced Emily to jump into the ice cold lake. Surprisingly, all it took was a promise of mashed potatoes when we got back to town. I decided to take my underwater housing on this trip and after getting adjusted to the freezing water, I chased a few trout around with my camera. They were surprisingly curious and swam up within a few feet of my lens! See if you can spot them in these photos!
While we lounged in our tent, we heard a loud, thunderous “BOOM!” I fumbled out of the tent and saw the water had been disturbed. Waves were rushing towards the bank of the lake. A huge chunk of snow and ice had detached itself from a larger chunk and fallen into the lake! The waves were not large enough to cause any damage, but enough to splash us a bit. The mountains are a wild and powerful place. After chatting with some of the other campers and making dinner, we turned in.
The Eclipse
The following morning was bliss. The wind was calm and the sun had yet to rise. Emily and I walked to the other end of the lake and watched sunrise together. Small patches of flowers grew between the rocks and you could see the trout swimming just under the surface of the water. The alpenglow shown an intense red hue for a longer period than usual as the fires in the area filtered the morning light on the granite rocks above. Photos hardly do any justice to these peaks.
After some breakfast, we wandered the shoreline, seeking out the best spot to view the eclipse. We decided we would go to the opposite side of the lake. We could then see the valley and lake below us and the eclipse above us, all at once. I prepared my camera and waited patiently. My friends Sam and Edwin decided to join us last minute and wandered over to our perfect spot above the lake just in time. The eclipse was about to start.
We used our heavily tinted eclipse glasses to view the event. As I took photos, I had to be EXTREMELY careful not to look into my camera when the mirror was down. I had the equivalent of 600mm of glass on the end of my Canon 5D Mark III, resulting in a magnifying-glass of death for any retinas that braved the viewfinder. I also had to be careful not to burn the sensor of my camera in Live-View mode. It was quite stressful. However, the more the eclipse progressed, the dimmer (and safer) it became. Before I knew it, I wasn’t shooting at f22 anymore and I could watch this momentous event with my bare eyes. and then, totality.
The wind stopped. Chills ran down my spine as the temperature dropped 10 degrees in a matter of seconds. There was an unsettling silence across the lake. I took my photos and paused for a moment to just look up at the eclipse. Stars twinkled in the dark sky. The huge ball of fire that gives our planet life and heat was suddenly gone in the middle of the day. I suddenly felt a feeling of wonderment mixed with anxiety. I felt small. How fragile our planet and how massive these celestial masses were, hurtling through space, with no regard for us or anything for that matter. I then understood why eclipses had provoked such obscure myths and legends from cultures around the world. Aztec’s offered up human sacrifices, and others associated the events with dragons or demons. Yet, even when I understood what was happening, I was still a bit freaked out. But unexplainably astonished.
Thankfully, the moon, sun and earth continued their dance. The sun slowly began to reappear, and with it, the heat of the summer day. I felt a sense of accomplishment and we packed up camp before heading back into town.
We had to head home, but per our tradition, we stopped at a local diner and ate something fried. This time, fresh mozzarella sticks. They were no mashed potatoes, but Emily seemed satisfied. I looked at the image I had captured on my camera and felt proud. I opened up my iPhone and marked off my to-do: “Look at the solar eclipse” Check! I stared at the checked box for a minute before opening google for a quick search. Then, I set a reminder for the next one. Lets see if it lasts 28 years!
Thanks for reading!