As far back as I can remember, I’ve been a stargazer and a bit of a space obsessor. I grew up in the 1980s, at the height of the Space Shuttle program, and I still get a chill when I visit a museum where a space shuttle now lives.
I want to touch this vehicle that’s been to space. I can gaze at it for hours on end, taking in every detail.
The Challenger explosion is a childhood trauma I’ve still not gotten over. I don’t think I’d be a good candidate for any kind of space travel, but I am awed by the vastness of space and our tiny little place in it.
My obsession took a turn in 2017 when the United States experienced a total solar eclipse. As far as I can tell, this was the first one of my lifetime where I was in a place that I could see some of it. Our area of Pennsylvania was in the 75 percent range. We secured some eclipse glasses. It was summer, so we were all home, and I remember how fascinatingly eerie it was to watch the moon pass between the earth and the sun. On this spinning planet of ours, it’s sometimes hard to remember that we’re hurling through space along with other heavenly bodies. The eclipse made it seem so much more real because we could see the movement and how it affected everything.
I remember how the lighting changed, like it was dusk in the middle of the day. I heard crickets. The shadows of the leaves on the tree in our yard took on a crescent shape as the sun was partially obscured. I didn’t capture it well with photos, but below is what I shared on Instagram back then.
I loved every minute of the solar eclipse, and I wanted more.
The next eclipse to cross the U.S. would be 7 years later, and I put it on my calendar then. If possible, I was going to see a total solar eclipse in the year 2024.
It’s 2024, so you know what that means
In the meantime, I read books about solar eclipses. I started writing a novel that is centered on a solar eclipse and the meeting of three people who didn’t think they’d see each other again.
I had a vague idea of wanting to travel to see the eclipse. This time, totality would cross a sliver of Pennsylvania, in the western part, near Erie.
Doable, I thought. I wouldn’t have to leave the state.
For years, it was just an idea. And then my medical emergency last May forced my hand on a handful of things I didn’t want to wait to do “someday” because I realized for the first time in my 45 years that I might not be guaranteed “someday.”
Someday would have to be now.
So in June of last year, while I was still in the midst of my recovery, I texted a friend who lives in western PA.
“What are you doing on April 8, 2024? Want to join me on a total solar eclipse adventure to Erie?”
Her immediate response: “I’m pretty sure I do.”
I could do this adventure on my own, if I wanted to, and I would if it was the only way to accomplish it. But as I’ve written about before, adventures are more fun with friends.
In August, I started looking for hotels because I’ve heard horror stories about traffic nightmares on eclipse day. I wanted to arrive a day before and leave the day after. But even in August, hotel rooms were starting to book up or cost twice as much as usual. I found one that looked like it was within walking distance to Lake Erie. The place seemed kind of sketchy and it was more than I wanted to pay, but I thought it would be worth it.
Months later, I started to doubt my choice. The Internet contained conflicting information about whether the hotel was actually open or not. I had anxiety about getting there and not having a place to stay. I emailed the owner, read reviews and decided to cancel my reservation.
I was able to find another motel in a more rural area, farther from the lake, farther from Erie but still in the path of totality. It was less expensive and had a more family-owned business feel to it. I felt even better when they texted me to tell me they’d have a food truck for breakfast and dinner the weekend of the eclipse and would be providing two pairs of eclipse glasses for my stay.
It’s happening
For the last month or so, I’ve been equal parts anxious and excited for this adventure, and now it’s finally here. I leave Sunday to drive out to western Pennsylvania for three days. The eclipse is Monday afternoon. I’ll be heading back to Lancaster on Tuesday. This past weekend I bought some supplies: a smaller purse, a car mount for my phone, some non-perishable snacks in case I find myself in a place where I can’t leave for a while and need food.
I’m hoping to arrive in enough time on Sunday to scout the area a bit to see if there’s a good place near Lake Erie where we can watch. I want to take a ton of notes for research and this introvert might actually try to talk to people about their eclipse experiences. I’ve saved a bunch of articles that have been popping up in my news feeds to read as part of my research as well.
And I’m crossing my fingers for good weather. Even if it’s cloudy and the eclipse is obscured, I’m going to count this trip as a win. Because I took action on something I wanted to experience, despite all the reasons I might have given to not do it.
I can’t wait to tell you all about it. I’ll probably post some pictures on Instagram, if you want to follow along.
This makes No. 6 on my list of 10 Things—three that I’ve done, and three that I’ve told you about that are in progress. The eclipse counts as “in progress” until I actually see it.
See you on the other side of the eclipse!
Hi, fellow anxious introverted writer here. :) And creeping into my mid-40s thinking, why I am I waiting to do things? I'm enjoying reading about your bucket list adventures as I'm a little bit away from doing some of the bigger things as I have littles at home.
I love that you are attuned to how you've always been a "space obsessor" and you're consciously doing something that speaks to that part of you. I can't wait to hear about the experience!