Here I am, three days before the "Great American Eclipse" (more to the point, two days before I drive 9 hours to view it). I'm packed up (well, mostly), got my camera, laptop, my official ISO-approved eclipse glasses (which I will be rocking the hell out of come Monday afternoon*)...I'm all set to travel, and fairly excited. After all, I've had this appointment for 38 years.
Then I awake this morning to find Monday's weather forecast for the town I'm staying in has changed. For three weeks it's been exactly the same: "Clear, High of 88". But all of a sudden, it's altered: "Mix of clouds and sun, chance of afternoon thunderstorms...."
That was earlier. It's changed yet again in just the last two hours: "Some clouds and an isolated thunderstorm in the afternoon..."
I'm pretty dismayed that the word "sun" has been removed completely from the official text. Like an outdoor wedding, company picnic, or chalk art festival, this celestial event is kind of dependent on good weather....or at least sunny weather.
Man, that figures.
Further investigation isn't making me feel any better. According to NJ.com's interactive map, created using National Weather Service forecast models to predict what geographical areas of the country are most likely to have clear the skies during the eclipse, the likelihood of clear skies in the area where I'm headed is currently listed as "Iffy".
*sigh...*...So figures.
No reason to panic just yet. Things can change on a dime. Maybe "some clouds" will play out as "partly cloudy". But acknowledging the strong possibility that it could just as easily translate into "mostly cloudy", I really have no choice but to begin considering a Plan B.
To that end, there's really just one alternative: drive. Drive, and find a sunny spot. Go where the sun is, and the clouds aren't.
On the surface, I have no problem with that. If I have to head west early that morning, toward Colorado, in search a little patch of blue, I will. Driving long distances is nothing to me (truth be told, once I'm out on the road, I'll be resisting a small but potent urge to stay out there).
The trick, though, is that I have to stay within the path of totality. That's the whole reason I'm doing this. If I were okay viewing a partial eclipse, I wouldn't be bothering with a road trip at all. I'd just step outside in my bathrobe and check out what's going to be at least a 70 percent event where I live. (Although, on that same NJ.com interactive map, the likelihood of clear viewing in west-central Wisconsin is currently listed as "Poor".)
But no, I want to see the moon's fully monty, and I'm willing to trek further to make that happen without clouds getting in the way. But that means I have to do it along the 70-mile wide track where the moon's shadow will be complete. And that track does not follow a straight line, but rather bends across the country in a mild arc, which means I won't simply be able to head west toward Colorado, I'll have to head north-west (a little at a time) toward Wyoming.
Er, do I...? ;-)
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When viewing the eclipse, make sure you protect your eyes. Granted, you'll have to go out in public with something like these on, but wouldn't it be nice to be able to see afterward? (Besides, don't these puppies scream "Hollywood"? ;-)
