The closest you will ever get to an out-of-this-world experience while standing on terra firma is during a total solar eclipse.
I have experienced two partial eclipses in my life before August 21, 2017, and both were memorable, but they were nothing like what happened on the 21st. Here is what I experienced, as well as some photographic lessons learned.
The Setup
My girlfriend, Jaime, and I end up in Nashville, TN, standing off to the side of the EN Peeler Park’s model airplane runway. We arrive an hour before the start of the eclipse to set up my gear. Twenty minutes before the eclipse, I verify that my iOptron SkyGuider Pro Equatorial tracking mount is tracking the sun well.
Photographs © Todd Vorenkamp
An alarm on my phone sounds as my solar eclipse timer app beeps. With a minute to go, I start both my cameras on interval timers. The Fujifilm X-T2 with the Nikon AF-S NIKKOR 300mm f/4D IF-ED lens will shoot every minute on the iOptron mount and a MrStarGuy Solar White Light filter. The fixed Fujifilm X-T1 camera will shoot a wide swath of sky with the Voigtländer Color-Skopar 21mm f/4 P lens every two minutes.
I am also armed with multiple pairs of viewing glasses, including the Vixen Optics Solar Glasses, solar binoculars, and solar-filtered Nikon LX L 8x42 binoculars.
First Contact
It begins. I see the first indication of the moon passing in front of the sun. The sight is simple—a black disc starts crossing in front of an orange disc. But, once I step back from the basic visuals and start to think about what I am witnessing—our beautiful moon, all but invisible in its “new moon” phase, transiting directly across the sun overhead—I experience the wonder of the moment. I had seen partial eclipses before, but I had never witnessed first contact at the start of the eclipse.
On the day of the eclipse, the moon was 232,553 miles away and the sun was 94,026,286 miles away from planet Earth. The moon is about 400x smaller than the star it is eclipsing and, as if a cosmic master planner arranged the solar system for just this spectacle, the larger, distant object is just more than 400x farther away than the smaller, closer one. This is the reason we get perfect total solar eclipses. But, since the moon is moving ever so slowly away from the earth, you’d better see one now, because in about 650 million years, it will be too far away to totally eclipse the sun.
The Path to Totality
The cameras are clicking happily away.
Oh no. Clouds are moving in. The morning was cloud-free, but puffy cumulus clouds are moving toward us, west to east—just like the eclipse shadow. It will be partly cloudy for the rest of the day. The first puff balls roll overhead and block the sun. The “shade” provides a brief respite from the direct sunlight and heat, but the image through the camera’s filtered lens goes dark.
Like randomly spaced waves, the clouds wash over the spectacle above and then pass. As soon as I feel the hot sun on my sandaled feet again, I look skyward to resume watching the show, as the moon takes an ever larger and larger chunk out of the brilliant sun. I keep one eye on the camera to make sure the mount is tracking—it is—and I also keep a literal weather-eye on the western horizon.
Totality Approaches
It is time for the main event. Totality is coming and there looks to be a well-timed gap in the cloud cover, but I don’t want to celebrate just yet.
The sky gets darker, subtle at first, but noticeable. More apparent is the drop in temperature. I am still standing in the sun, the shade of the trees is behind me, but it is now almost comfortable. Suddenly, it has become a pleasant summer day—at the time of day when the heat should be building to its most oppressive.
I keep my filtered eyes skyward. The sun has become just a sliver now—you can barely see it. Then I notice, through my binoculars, that the sliver is textured and not completely smooth—Baily’s Beads are revealed—the last vestiges of sunlight streams through the mountains and valleys of the moon’s cratered surface. I pull the filters off both cameras, and then remove them from my binoculars. I glance skyward for a fraction of a second, but the sun is still too bright to look at directly.
Totality
I cannot, chronologically, recall my actions or the visions I encountered during the next 135 seconds. I remember moments. All I have are jumbled memories of amazing.
I look at the X-T2’s LCD and adjust my shutter speed to capture the diamond ring. I have the camera’s remote in my hand and I roll my drive mode dial to BKT for bracketed exposures and start shooting three-image bursts.
I look around. People are cheering and yelping and gasping. One howls like a wolf. I think I am silent. I really cannot remember if I said anything, or, if I did, what I said. I want to grab photos, but I know that I need to look at the event with my own eyes.
All around me, the sky has taken on a completely unique appearance and feel. Some said totality is like a 360-degree sunset. I completely disagree. It is dark enough to make it difficult to read the dials on my camera, as my eyes haven’t adjusted to the sudden lighting shift, but it is not pitch black. The horizon is still illuminated, but not brightly. It is not dawn. It is not dusk. It is not day. It is not night. It is not golden hour. It is not blue hour. The air and the quality of light have taken on characteristics that make it 1000% unique to the event—it is the “total solar eclipse moment.”
The overall feel of the immediate environment matches the scene playing out overhead. I alternate looking with my own eyes, my now-unfiltered 8x binoculars, and my camera LCD. I tweak the exposure and shoot more bursts. I look back up. I bring the binoculars to my eyes. I see corona. I see prominences. I see the moon. The sun is all but masked. To the west, clouds are about to pounce on the scene. A squadron of birds flies overhead—racing toward their nesting place? Are they confused now that their internal clocks have been suddenly betrayed? Crickets chirp. It is night, but not night, at 1328 hours.
Jaime claims that a bug bit her arm. I think I look to see if she is OK, but honestly, I can’t recall if I really looked. Everyone is smiling. Everyone. Even Jaime with a bug bite.
And then, someone throws the lights back on. Totality is over. I have experienced the fastest, most frantic, and most ethereal 2 minutes and 15 seconds of my life.
The Afterparty
Almost as soon as the last diamond ring fades, I get my main camera back on interval shooting and exhale. Clouds.
51% of the show is over, but so is the climax. Everyone is giddy and not seeming to mind the return of the heat—made a bit more bearable by the politely timed arrival of the clouds. Saying, “That was so cool!” repeatedly while wearing a perma-grin seems so quaint, but it is difficult to put the experience into words otherwise.
For most of my neighbors at Peeler park, coming to see the eclipse was like going to watch that big championship football-league game that is always played a few weeks after the New Year, when you’re only really caring about the half-time show. The first half of the game is bearable, because it is the prelude to what comes. But, if you aren't a football fan, the second half, after a climatic half-time show, is a bit boring.
The sun is barely visible still, but almost everyone starts to pack up their solar glasses, cameras obscura, and snack rubbish. Kathryn, a nurse and amateur photographer who traveled from Albuquerque, and I keep shooting. My two FUJIFILM cameras are programmed not to experience post-totality hangovers.
I stay motivated. I keep swapping between the glasses and binoculars as the moon slides farther and farther from the face of the sun. The clouds are more prevalent now. I silently thank them for their discretion during totality, and I really don’t mind the cooling effects they offer now that totality is past us. It turns out, just a few miles away, in downtown Nashville, most of totality was obscured by a passing cloud. A huge bummer for many, and a reason to feel lucky to be at Peeler Park on this day.
Just less than ninety minutes to go, but Kathryn and I seem to be the only ones who really care at this point. Jaime has retreated to the rental car’s air conditioning. At last contact, Kathryn and I are the only two fools at Peeler still standing in the sunlight, sweating, and taking photographs.
Eclipse Viewing and Photographic Lessons Learned
Given another chance, I might do things slightly differently.
1. LOOK AT THE ECLIPSE WITH YOUR OWN EYES. I cannot emphasize this enough. Photographs do NOT do the event justice. I had friends who viewed the entirety of totality through a viewfinder, and I feel sad for them. They missed the whole show. Stop taking photos and look skyward! Totality is surreal and the moon and sun have a jewel-like quality to them that you will never see reproduced in a photograph.
2. Even better than the view with your eyes is the view of totality through binoculars. By far, the best views of totality were via unfiltered binoculars. Grab a pair of birding binoculars and get some solar filters for them. As good as the view was through the Vixen solar glasses, being able to get a “front row” seat and see sunspots and other details before and after totality was well worth the extra weight in my bag.
3. I wish I had varied my exposures a bit more to get inner, middle, and outer corona. I aimed more for the middle, but inner corona shots show the prominences better.
4. Totality is a bit dynamic, but once established, it becomes static for the short time it lasts. Three different bracketed exposures might have been sufficient, and would have allowed me to spend more time looking up. Again, do not, I repeat, do NOT view all of totality through a plain, unfiltered camera viewfinder.
5. Dual cameras. Managing two cameras wasn't difficult, and I should have had Jaime handle the second camera during totality, but I didn’t want her to miss any of it. Having someone dedicated to simply managing the filter on the second camera would have been helpful.
6. Focal length. Kathryn was shooting an APS-C camera at 500mm. I had a 300mm lens. I was a bit envious of her shots, but I think my 450mm 35mm equivalent focal length was sufficient.
7. Tracking. If you are just shooting eclipses, you might not be able to justify the expense of an equatorial tracking mount, but, because I often photograph the moon and night sky, I regret not having purchased one of these years ago! Watching Kathryn constantly re-aim her camera solidified my decision, as I was—literally—hands-free the entire time.
8. I over-packed memory cards and batteries. It is better to be safe than sorry, but I took fewer than 400 photos over the entire weekend.
Remember: Safety First, Enjoyment Second, Photographs Third. I followed this mantra and enjoyed the show safely! The next time, I will emphasize photographs even less, so I can watch more!
Bucket List Checkmark Gained
When I first heard about the coming eclipse, I knew I wanted to photograph it. I hadn’t planned on seeing a total eclipse, and I hadn't gone out of my way to find one somewhere in the world, but this North American flyover seemed too convenient to ignore.
Now, having witnessed a total eclipse of the sun, I am ready to see more. I want hours of totality, although I realize that if we had more eclipses and more totality, the world would be a less special place. When I think about the “feel” of totality, I can’t help but smile and remember how unique the air felt and the sky looked, and how I wish there was some way to capture it in a bottle…or a photograph. What a simply amazing thing to experience.
I will say this one more time in the event you missed it above:
Photographs do not do the total eclipse justice. Looking with my own eyes and through binoculars, the total eclipse has a jewel-like persona, a depth, and an almost-tangible ethereal sense that is lost to the camera’s sensor—much like a photograph of a diamond never captures its true sparkle. I encourage everyone to try to experience this at least once in their lifetime.
Did you photograph the eclipse? What are your lessons learned? Share with us in the Comments section so that we can all be better prepared for the next one!
