50 ASTRONOMY • DECEMBER 2019
“Wow! Look at those shadow
bands!” many exclaimed.
As the Sun’s disk was reduced to
an incredibly thin crescent, the
sunlight became increasingly col-
limated, much like laser light. This
produced a well-known phenom-
enon called shadow bands, which
are dancing streaks of light and
dark that result from parallel beams
of sunlight refracting through
Earth’s turbulent atmosphere. It’s
akin to why stars appear to shim-
mer. And for this eclipse, the
shadow bands were out in full force.
Then, bam, the first diamond
ring burst forth. Over the next few
minutes, we were treated to a sight
that most humans never get the
opportunity to witness — one that
is both terrifyingly bizarre and
magnificently awestriking. As the
first glaringly bright diamond ring
faded away, the Sun’s corona came
into full view. This few-million-
degree aura of plasma is usually
invisible to the naked eye, as the
Sun’s blinding disk overpowers its
faint glow. But during a total solar
eclipse, the Sun’s disk is entirely
blotted out, allowing the ethereal
corona to steal the show.
Even if you weren’t looking up
while cloaked in the Moon’s
shadow, the darkness that washed
over us would have been sufficient
to tell you that something strange
was going on. And this seemed to
be the case with nearby wildlife.
During totality, about a dozen birds
returned to what was presumably
their nesting tree on the perimeter
of the soccer field. Although the
darkness seemed to indicate it was
nighttime to them, the birds acted
as if they knew something was off.
This left them in an uncertain
holding pattern above their tree,
where they remained circling until
the Moon’s shadow passed.
Then, less than two and a half
minutes after totality began, the
second diamond ring all too soon
marked the end of the main event.
At this point, many veteran eclipse
chasers, still in a state of pure bliss,
lamented the validity of what’s
become known as Sperling’s Eight
Second Law. First published in the
August 1980 issue of Astronomy
magazine, this informal credo from
author and telescope designer
Norman Sperling basically states
that every total solar eclipse lasts
eight seconds. And I can absolutely
confirm that’s how it feels.
As we watched the crescent Sun
again begin to grow, we celebrated
our good fortune with a champagne
toast and delicious empanadas. Dueto the soccer field being tucked
between mountain ridges, we knew
the Sun would set before we wit-
nessed fourth contact, when the
Sun and Moon finally part ways.
But what we didn’t consider was
that the Moon would still be taking
a bite out of the top of the Sun at
the same time the intervening
mountain ridge started gobbling it
up from the bottom. This tempo-
rarily left the visible portion of the
Sun’s disk vaguely shaped like a
simplified Bat-Signal, adding yet
another memorable sight to a trip
that a dozen scrapbooks couldn’t
adequately capture.A trip to Cerro Tololo
Although witnessing a total solar
eclipse would have served as a
fitting end to one of the most
fantastic trips I’ve ever been on,
we weren’t done just yet.2
1
We were treated to a sight that most
humans never get the opportunity to
witness — one that is both terrifyingly
bizarre and magnificently awestriking.