As I left Denver this morning, a magenta sunrise spread across the eastern horizon; I wondered if the solar eclipse would match the beauty of that brilliant display. Heading northeastward along Interstate 76, I crossed the rolling grasslands of the High Plains, adorned in late summer by swaths of prairie sunflowers. Near Wiggins, the highway drops into the valley of the South Platte River, often shrouded in a dusky fog during the early morning hours.
I exited the Interstate in a pea-soup fog at Sterling, Colorado, and headed north on Route 113, climbing from the valley and re-entering the bright sunshine; wind turbines lined the crest of the escarpment, east and west of Peetz. Farther north, I crossed Interstate 80 at Sidney, Nebraska, and continued northward on US 385, dipping through the North Platte River valley at Bridgeport, where the first eclipse-watching celebrations lined the roadway. South of Alliance, I cut westward on a graveled road, finally escaping the parade of vehicles that had accompanied me all the way from Denver.
Choosing a location along a wooded ridge, I waited for the big event; the skies were clear except for a few high cirrus clouds. A north wind raked the ridge and a loggerhead shrike provided company, hunting along a fence line. About fifteen minutes before totality, a faint darkness began to envelop the landscape, suggesting the onset of dusk; the rate of darkening increased until totality occurred, when the sun's corona produced a brilliant ring around the edge of the moon's dark disc. While the total solar eclipse was spectacular (and well worth my five hour journey), it was the sudden return of brilliant sunshine, shattering the darkness, that, for me, produced the emotional highlight of this celestial event.
I exited the Interstate in a pea-soup fog at Sterling, Colorado, and headed north on Route 113, climbing from the valley and re-entering the bright sunshine; wind turbines lined the crest of the escarpment, east and west of Peetz. Farther north, I crossed Interstate 80 at Sidney, Nebraska, and continued northward on US 385, dipping through the North Platte River valley at Bridgeport, where the first eclipse-watching celebrations lined the roadway. South of Alliance, I cut westward on a graveled road, finally escaping the parade of vehicles that had accompanied me all the way from Denver.
Choosing a location along a wooded ridge, I waited for the big event; the skies were clear except for a few high cirrus clouds. A north wind raked the ridge and a loggerhead shrike provided company, hunting along a fence line. About fifteen minutes before totality, a faint darkness began to envelop the landscape, suggesting the onset of dusk; the rate of darkening increased until totality occurred, when the sun's corona produced a brilliant ring around the edge of the moon's dark disc. While the total solar eclipse was spectacular (and well worth my five hour journey), it was the sudden return of brilliant sunshine, shattering the darkness, that, for me, produced the emotional highlight of this celestial event.
