Addled voters across the 50 states hearing vague talk about “The Great American Eclipse” over the past week may be forgiven for thinking it was just a foreshadowing, so to speak, of the presidential election to come. But no: Monday will see what promises to be the most spectacular total eclipse of the sun here for, the more excitable of the astronomy society claim, the last 100 years.
Nasa is warning people that this is a truly rare occurrence: it will be the last total solar eclipse visible from “the contiguous United States until 2044″, by which time LeBron James will probably be winding down his NBA career and Taylor Swift running for her second term.
Those beneath what has grandly been termed “the path of totality” will experience a total solar eclipse. “The sky will darken, as if it were dawn or dusk,” Nasa promises. On paper, this, admittedly, does not sound like the wildest sight known to mankind, particularly for those of us acquainted with the west coast of Ireland, where that seems to happen several times an hour.
But you have to be there! And even as we speak, intrepid skygazers are loading up the Winnebagos with supplies or desperately scanning the internet for hotels or guests houses or any motel not named Bates for a place in one of the esteemed towns and villages that will fall under the path of totality. This, see, is the hour (well, four and a half minutes) for the lesser lights of American towns to take a bow and welcome an influx of first- and possibly last-time visitors: when your Sulphur Springs, Texas, or Russellville, Arkansas, or the aptly named Mars Hill in Maine can jack up their overnight prices to eye-watering rates: rooms that will cost the skygazers $600 on the eve of the eclipse will be back down to $70 a few nights later.
What’s not to love? In an addled time politically, economically, and environmentally, here comes nature and science with a restorative balm that brings out the kid in everyone
CNN ran a report on Cairo, Illinois, a booming river city when the last eclipse occurred a century ago. Now it has one hotel and two restaurants left and for perhaps the final Monday night ever, all houses are full. It’s their time to shine. Or, rather, to fall under the spell of a magical noon, April darkness.
What’s not to love? In an addled time politically, economically, and environmentally, here comes nature and science with a restorative balm that brings out the kid in everyone. Nobody quite knows how many Americans are planning on ditching the office for the day and putting themselves under the path of totality, which will sweep up from Mexico through eastern Texas (The Donald did warn everyone to build the Wall) before moving in a wide geometrical curve upwards to Maine and heading for Canada, where it may be turned away at the border for incorrect paperwork. But it could be anything from one to four million people.
In other words, it will be traffic chaos. Already the television networks are warning the other 340 million-odd last-minute Joes and Joannas that it is too late to be seized by the improbable romance of it all: that all the rooms are booked and that anyhow, it will be all but impossible to lay your hands on a reliable set of “solar eclipse glasses”, an item just as inelegant as the fabled 3-D cinema glasses of yesteryear but which are, apparently, essential if you don’t want to finish your day with ruinous eye damage from staring at the sun for too long.
... the eclipse shadow moves at a fair old clip, travelling at 1,800km/h at the equator and almost certainly breaking every speed trap along the Texas panhandle as it rattles north
For the unchosen millions outside the path of totality, NBC and National Geographic are teaming up to bring live coverage of the entire show, broadcasting from eye-catching locations such as the Indianapolis Speedway circuit and Niagara Falls. A record number of marriage proposals is expected – and, one assumes, a record number of sun/moon related poetic recitations. If nothing else, the eclipse is a perfect excuse to throw an impromptu Monday party and visitors will be spoilt for choice.
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In Batesville, Illinois, for instance, you can enjoy Lil Charlie’s Sips and Eclipse on the Patio. The Ennis Texas webpage promises that “totality happens above you, around you, within you”, a worldview that Jeffrey “The Dude” Lebowski would heartily endorse. The Moon Over Vermont crew have had the countdown timer going for weeks.
And the eclipse shadow moves at a fair old clip, travelling at 1,800km/h at the equator and almost certainly breaking every speed trap along the Texas panhandle as it rattles north, giving millions of earthlings a rare chance to just be still for a moment: to put the damn phones down and just look up in wonder.