A Total Eclipse of the Substack
I'm headed for Texas—the very heart of darkness. No, that's not a reference to state politics. It's eclipse time, and I like to watch. BY PETER MOORE
MY ORIGINAL IMPETUS for launching this substack was to document my travels—past, present, and future—in drawings, memoir excerpts, cartoons, and other sorts of hilarity. Like any growing thing (4,000 subscribers and counting), The Road2Elsewhere has sent off shoots and tendrils in unexpected directions. Among the more unexpected: Waco, Texas, where I’m headed to experience the total eclipse of the sun. It may be my final opportunity to watch these astral shenanigans, depending on what medical miracles are in store for me in the years ahead. The mainland U.S. won’t host another eclipse until 2045, by which point I’ll be…too old to count accurately. So, Waco it is—a mere twelve hours and forty-five minutes from home! Those of you plotting your own eclipse getaway may want to check out this article I published in BACKPACKER, about eclipse-viewing high points from Mexico, through the U.S., to Canada. Where will you be when the sun goes out?
On August 21, 2017, my eyes snapped open at 3 a.m. I nudged my sleeping wife and barked at my son, who was playing astral hooky from work on eclipse day. Nebraska, ho!
A two-hour drive later, I woke everybody up when we pulled into Agate Fossil Beds National Monument, where park officials handed us maps and eclipse goggles. At the visitor center, we joined a yoga class while we waited for the moon to slide across the sun.
After the last dawnward-facing dog, we cast our eyes to the north, where a butte erupted into the blue sky. It was the perfect place to watch the sun go out. At the top of the promontory, a British guy who’d traveled 4,000 miles to witness totality greeted us. “Just so you know,” he said, “there’s a rattlesnake up here with us.” He gestured into the underbrush, and sure enough, there was a large, coiled snake. We were spooked, but as soon as the sunlight began to fade, our eyes turned toward the skies.
All of which makes me want to ask: Where will you be when the sun goes out this year? The eclipse will extend on a curve from Mexico to the Maritime provinces in Canada, as Javier M. Jubier’s interactive Google map shows in mind-boggling detail.
“The biggest mistake people make in picking a viewing spot is over-commitment,” says David Makepeace, the eponymous guy at eclipseguy.com. “You’ve got to be ready to run out from under cloud cover, and that might be difficult to do on a trail. You cannot miss this.” As the hour approaches, you can click on weather.gov’s eclipse tracker, to check conditions near you. You’ll need your safety glasses, of course, so this eclipse isn’t the last thing you see.
Makepeace plans to be in reliably sunny, dry, Mazatlán, Mexico, when the shadow makes landfall in North America. He’s a cloud-phobe, because they ruin all the eclipse fun. Accordingly, it’s with some peril that I offer specific suggestions for more northerly, cloudier places to view the eclipse. They might be great, they might be a washout. But at least this is a start. As usual with hikes, local intel (and an accurate day-of weather forecast) trumps any suggestions I make here.
Still, isn’t it nice to dream of a blue sky that suddenly sprouts stars for your entertainment? All hike suggestions are squarely in the eclipse path, with a thrilling two to four minutes of totality. (Eclipse times and durations below are all gleaned from Jubier’s awesome map.)
Mexico
Hike: El Faro Lighthouse in Mazatlán
Totality: 11:09 a.m.; 4 minutes, 17 seconds
In Mazatlán, head for the El Faro Lighthouse, where a half-hour hike on a gravel path will bring you to spectacular ocean and eclipse views, as the moon shadow rushes toward you at 2,228 miles per hour. Space.com has more viewing spot recommendations, as well.
Texas
Hike: Summit Trail, Enchanted Rock State Natural Area in Fredericksburg
Totality: 12:15 p.m.; 4 minutes, 23 seconds
What better place to see an eclipse than a massive pink granite dome, just under two hours from Austin? The .8 mile summit trail will elevate you above the soon-to-be-darkening landscape.
Oklahoma
Hike: Skyline Trail, Beavers Bend State Park in Broken Bow
Totality: 1:47 p.m.; 4 minutes, 16 seconds
The eclipse clips the corner of Oklahoma, home to Palimena, Wister, and Beavers Bend state parks, all of which are within the path of totality. Beavers Bend is the most popular and has a number of trails with extensive views. The Skyline Trail is an 8-mile loop offering plenty of clear-sky opportunities.
Arkansas
Hike: Bear Cave Trail, Petit Jean State Park in Morrilton
Totality: 1:52 p.m.; 4 minutes, 15 seconds
The trail does include a cave, but don’t hang out there. Trip accounts declare it to be more of a boulder hike, with plenty of sweeping views at the outlooks, when you’re not in the cave. Scramble on top of a nice flat rock, and you may have the eclipse all to yourself.
For my suggestions in Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, and Canada, click here. Otherwise, maybe I’ll see you in Waco. Before it gets too dark….
No. Just no. (That time the president did the worst possible thing during an eclipse. Melania and Baron were smarter, evidently.)
I came across a group of 35 people from the Netherlands who were touring the Southwest and getting to Texas in time for the eclipse.
I'm looking forward to seeing about 95% totality from my back yard (one of our family members is too frail for travel to see 100%, so we'll take what we can get). I have four sets of handy dandy eclipse glasses, so nobody makes like a Donald.😎