Eclipse

by Paul on July 2, 2019

1st July 2019 BRIGHT SUN AND a cold, cutting wind pinned me down inside the tent, which was so warm inside I needed to unzip the flap for ventilation and let the gale rattle away at the flimsy fabric. Inside, it was easy to keep warm even stripped down to a T-shirt.

The Parakeets squawked away in the Eucalyptus canopy above and behind me. Noisy, yet tranquil in the natural order of things. I plugged the extension lead into the nearby electricity point and hooked up the laptop to the WiFi. I couldn’t complain, for it being midwinter here. Indeed, I’d lucked out with the weather as the Dense blanket of cloud of the last week had blown away leaving what promised to be an unrestricted view for tomorrow.

The eclipse would be after 4pm. I had no plans for this day. I could waste it as I pleased. Wandering through the trees along the shore in a casual exploration, I collected firewood to the shrill din of the parakeets hidden in the leaves. Apart from the gatehouse, no other cars, tents or humans were here. Twigs and leaves were abundant but long-burning branches for a campfire were scarce. Eucalyptus leaves burn like they have petrol in their veins – hot and fast but with no endurance.

Near the cafe, I struck fire-starter gold in the guise of discarded cardboard boxes, which makes decent kindling. Peering through the windows, chairs were stacked and tables were empty. Out of season, it looked like it wouldn’t be opening anytime soon and I retreated to the tent with my foraging spoils.

Villa Cañas lay to the north about 7km – an easy ride to a peaceful pueblo. Cafe’s looked closed for siesta but a few rustic stores remained open. I picked up some food and wine, strapped the bag to my front rack and returned to the campsite.

The sun started to descend over the lake and I guessed it wouldn’t be donating any more heat for the shower block today. Inside, the showers were the usual spartan affair: doors without locks that didn’t quite close properly. Brick, tile and white paint: strictly utilitarian. The sun had done its job. The warm water felt less icy than the cold. Warm enough not to stimulate the spasms of a cold shower but not enough to hang around enjoying the usual aqua-jet massage.

The wind had turned 180⁰ from yesterday, blowing off the land right into the open face of the Parilla (BBQ pit) before escaping across the lake.
I found some bricks to fashion a shield with a small adjustable vent where the wind could intensify the oxygen supply to my stove. It worked well providing plenty of heat while minimising the ash being whipped up and confettied into the pot with the pasta.

My laptop was stacked with Game of Thrones and Breaking Bad episodes. Propping my head up on my crash helmet, laying in the sleeping bag with a mug of red wine watching laptop videos was my idea of heaven. One of the most chilled out days I’d had. I had nothing to do but wait and it was bliss.

2nd July 2019 Today was the day. “I’ve seen loads,” said Peter in Itapúa in Brazil when I mentioned this eclipse. To be expected with this giant continent – offering a bigger target than the tiny British Isles, spanning two-thirds of the southern latitudes I’d only ever seen a partial eclipse before which was most disappointing as it had been.

Over near the Cafe, a stirring of activity – a car with an open boot parked outside. A woman with two young girls. I tried my luck at nabbing a breakfast. No joy, they were just cleaning and tidying up while out of season. “Cafe con Leche?” no, but I did get a hot black coffee poured from their thermos flask. I bought a packet of cookies that I noticed on the shelf and shared some with the children while sipping the hot black coffee.

The customary campsite dog appeared jumping up the windows trying to get in. I hadn’t seen it before so it must stay indoors. I presumed this family were staff that lived in the gatehouse as there appeared to be nowhere else nearby.

The wind switched back to coming off the lake again. I wanted to video the eclipse and the wind roaring across the microphone was playing havoc with the sound. I don’t have fancy gear and make do with a smartphone and an old GoPro Hero 3 with a knackered battery. Remember, it wasn’t my plan to become a vlogger on a moto-adventure, I was only here because my boat sank in the Caribbean.

Cars started rolling in around 3 pm but passed me to park at the far end of the sight to watch the eclipse over the northern part of the lakeshore.

An eclipse has a slow build-up that takes over an hour as the lunar silhouette cuts a crescent into the solar disc. I made a pinhole lens as I had no filter for looking directly at the sun. Then approaching totality you can see the darkness advancing across the sky just as the last sliver of direct light gets obscured by the moon. At 4.22pm the eclipse became total and the sun being low in the sky projected an elongated shadow Northwest to Southeast while daylight was visible on the Horizon to the sides. A cheer went up from the distant crowd and the Parakeets quietened to muted chirps. The experience was not what I expected at all. A black eye in the sky looking down on ant-sized humans. Totally immersive and 3 dimensional with a holographic feel to it. Its magnitude gave me tingles.

Totality lasted about 2 minutes. The campground lights glowed bright in the eerie twilight. The border of dark and light in the sky sped out of the west before the sun burst into view again as the shadow’s edge passed overhead. The temperature had dropped slightly and light returned casting odd-shaped doubled shadows due to the crescent-shaped sun.

What more can I say, it was a humbling experience that hinted at the vastness of the universe. Normally the sky appears above like some 2-dimensional dome. The shadow of the moon added a third axis for depth which is usually imperceptible.

The eclipse finished just before sunset and sank below the horizon over the lake – no doubt followed by the now invisible moon.

The crowd quickly dispersed to the sound of slamming car doors and the crunch of rubber over gravel as they crept by and away from the site.

Milestone reached, what next?

Well, I’m further south than I wanted to be for winter. By the end of Summer I wanted to be in the world’s most southern city, Ushuaia on Tierra del Fuego. I had 6 months to travel the 3000km to get there. Checking the weather apps, Chile looked a few degrees warmer but Western Argentina has lower humidity. Ruta 7 and 8 runs directly 800km to Mendoza – that sounded good. Cordoba lay 450km North but from what I read, it was a party town: not my thing. I was fresh out of Buenos Aires so hustle-bustle was off the menu. Valparaiso on the Pacific coast of Chile lay 1200km away and Mendozas mere 800km laying on the dry side of the Andes won the day.

Yes, the drier climes of wine country sounded just the thing and I plotted my westerly route across the pampas towards the mountains.

Rufino, a leisurely 150km away down on Ruta 7, came highly recommended for a stopover in the iOverlander app reviews and looked more appealing than the larger Rio Cuarto up on Ruta 8. However, there was no rush, I liked the tranquillity here. “Mañana.”