The grand total solar eclipse of 2024 has come and gone, and everyone has moved on, but I’d like to linger on the experience a bit longer.
Seeing a total solar eclipse had been on my wish list for a long time. That wish was reinforced after hearing MiraCosta College astronomy professor Rica French give a presentation just prior the October 2023 annular solar eclipse.
“Experiencing a total solar eclipse is like nothing else you’ll ever do,” she enthusiastically told her audience. “If you have the chance, do it!”
Our chance came because longtime friends who live in Austin, Texas, in the path of totality for the April 8 event, graciously and generously agreed to let us stay with them after we invited ourselves.
One problem that plagued us right up until the eclipse began: the weather forecast. Cloudy with a chance of rain. Not good.
I lowered my expectations and was resigned to settle for a nice visit with friends and two minutes of daytime darkness that would happen even it rained.
As the passage of the moon across the sun began, we parked our chairs on our friends’ driveway, waited, and then…the clouds parted partially during the hour leading up to total darkness. Then, several minutes before the moon completely blotted out the sun, a wind arose and the clouds dissipated.
The eclipse lived up to the hype and I can die happy.
Witnessing this celestial event was a thrill, but the solar show also connected us with friends, family and strangers who experienced the same thing. We texted with relatives in Cleveland, Ohio, and Chester, Ill., and Palos Verdes, and with North County neighbors who had flown to Vincennes, Ind., which boasted it had “the longest darkness” in the state — four minutes and five seconds.
My neighbor even brought me a souvenir coffee mug, made by her friend in Vincennes, but said, “Total Solar Eclipse, April 8, 2024, Austin, Texas.”
Getting to Austin was a breeze; getting out, not so much. We can thank Texas barbecue for helping us to just make our flight.
Thinking we’d avoid the airport crowds, we made return reservations on Southwest Airlines two days after the eclipse. Unfortunately, the spectacular thunder-and-lightning storm over Austin the night before, which was great entertainment for Californians, meant that a whole bunch of planes had been grounded.
We were blissfully unaware of this the next day when we headed to the airport four hours early because my husband craved Texas barbecue. Our pre-flight destination: Salt Lick Restaurant, voted one of the 10 Best Airport Restaurants in the country.
We arrived to find thousands of Southwest passengers waiting in the bag-check lines; stressed travelers working their cellphones; cars three-deep jockeying for drop-off positions; toddlers balancing on top of suitcases piled high on dollies; thoughtful Southwest employees distributing bottles of water; and a truck loaded with plastic orange barriers cruising by, contemplating where to funnel the endless queues.
Three-plus hours later, we sprinted to Gate 22, thanks to a Southwest employee who randomly pulled us from the line and sent us ahead. With but two minutes to spare and somewhat breathless, I glanced up and saw the neon sign just above my husband’s head that said, “Salt Lick.”
“So near yet so far,” my husband sighed.
Next time, Texas.
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