Capturing an Eclipse: A Moment to Last a Lifetime
The Sunday before the Great North American Eclipse, I loaded my Subaru with two cameras, two tripods, a 400mm f4 lens, a 17-40mm f4 lens, and two ND filters—a 15-stop and an 18-stop. Photographing the Great North American Eclipse went beyond a mere bucket list item for me; it was an opportunity to capture a truly once in a lifetime opportunity. Along with my gear, I brought my two oldest boys. After devouring their morning ration of chocolate chip pancakes, my boys were sufficiently sugared up. Yet, they still convinced me to stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for two chocolate-frosted donuts with sprinkles and a 25-count box of assorted Munchkins. After all, it was a boys’ trip.
Setting Off for the Eclipse
We headed to my aunt and uncle’s in Hyde Park, Vermont, situated directly in the eclipse’s path of totality. This spot promised a full eclipse lasting 3 minutes and 30 seconds. Excited to possibly capture my first solar eclipse photo, and with the boys buzzing from sugar, we began our three-and-a-half-hour drive north.
We drove straight from 495N to Rt 3N, then to Rt 293N, 93N, and finally 89N. It’s a route I knew well, having traveled it countless times during my college years at Saint Michael’s in Colchester, VT, and the subsequent two-and-a-half years living in Burlington. However, what was unfamiliar was the volume of traffic heading north with me. I had never seen so many cars on the road headed north in all my previous travels. While we encountered very little stop-and-go traffic, the sheer number of people on the roads made me apprehensive about what might await the three of us on our return journey home.
Pit Stops and Snack Attacks
We made several stops, each driven by the hungry stomachs or urgent bathroom needs of the 8 and 6-year-old. “Dad, I’ve got to pee,” “Dad, I’m hungry—can we get another snack?”
In hindsight, getting the car detailed the week before and being lenient with their choice of road trip snacks were not the best decisions. They naturally chose foods that left a sticky residue on their fingers or scattered crumbs throughout the car’s interior and crevices and frequently chased an errant Dorito or Sour Patch Kid into the woven folds of the seats or the door jam with their sticky fingers.
Oh well—it was a boys’ trip after all.
A Surprise Encounter in Randolph
In Randolph, we stopped for our second break and noticed some familiar sculptures across from us. A pair of whale tails rose from the snowy hillside, similar to the “Reverence” sculptures once located here but moved to I89 in South Burlington in 1999.
In 2019, the whales symbolically returned to Randolph with the installation of a new sculpture called “Whale Dance.”
Seeing the breaching flukes from across the road, the boys insisted on a closer look. So, we naturally walked over and took some photos. It was a boys’ trip, after all.
We made relatively quick work of the remainder of the drive, encountering only a brief delay at the off-ramp to Stowe and Waterbury. We passed through the hamlets of Waterbury Center and Stowe Village before finally arriving at my aunt and uncle’s place. The boys, eager to burn off their pent-up energy and excess sugar, darted out of the car and took to the open yard to stretch their legs. My aunt Paula gave Wyatt and Callan a tour.
Bogged Down
Noah Kahan made Vermont’s stick season famous but failed to mention its other seasonal interstitial —mud season. Within minutes, Wyatt’s sneaker was swallowed by the soft, saturated grass. This mishap left him with a wet sock, and soon after, he stumbled into the slurry. Barely five minutes into our visit, my aunt was already offering to help with some laundry.
The remainder of the day was thankfully uneventful. Another of my uncles, Lenny, and his son, my cousin Jeff, also arrived shortly thereafter, having traveled north to witness the celestial event. My cousin Joe—Paula and Ed’s son—arrived as well, along with his girlfriend Hillary. We spent the day catching up with family, and despite the copious amounts of stimuli and sugar, the boys fell asleep easily.
Vermont Things
The next morning started early, and although the boys were on their best behavior, they weren’t exactly quiet. After attempting to manage the noise with little success, we decided to leave the house for another quintessential Vermont experience—Tractor Supply Co. The boys darted between the aisles of supplies and muck boots, and spent some time checking out chicks. I found myself wondering aloud how my wife, Jess, would react if I returned home with a larger flock than when we had left.
After visiting Tractor Supply, we headed to a local school that was closed for the day due to the eclipse event and the influx of visitors like ourselves. I let the boys burn off any remaining sugar-fueled energy. We then returned to Paula and Ed’s with a few hours to spare before the eclipse.
Getting in Gear
I took a quick bike ride on Vermont’s renowned gravel roads to burn off energy. Despite the chill, the sun and clear skies offered warmth. Climbing the rural hills warmed me further, and the stunning views under the mostly sunny skies—rare for this time of year—were a welcome sight. According to the local news station, “over the past 70 years in Burlington on April 8th, only 13 of those years (about 19%) were mostly sunny.”
Back at my aunt and uncle’s place, I found everyone playing Hedbanz. Although I’m not usually a fan of board games, I enjoyed it, even if I was remarkably bad at it. For context, my card was “pencil,” and my clues were that I could be found in a house, I was sharp, a tool, and not a knife or fork.
Countdown to Totality
After a post-ride shower and a pre-eclipse lunch of hot dogs and burgers, it was time for the main event. I had been eager to photograph an eclipse for a while. This goal truly solidified after seeing stunning images from the 2017 North American eclipse. These included photos by my friend and fellow photographer, Jamie Walter.
n the weeks leading up to the eclipse, I had nightmares about missing the shot because my lens cap wouldn’t come off. I couldn’t pinpoint the source of this anxiety. Although eager to photograph the event, witnessing it was my primary goal. As mentioned, I brought two camera setups. With the eclipse drawing near, I positioned them while Wyatt and Callan played nearby. One setup, equipped with a 17-40 mm lens, was tasked with capturing a timelapse that I planned to later composite into a final image. The other, using a 400mm lens, was set up to take close-up standalone images.
The Eclipse: A Moment Suspended in Time
At 2:14 pm, we watched through our eclipse glasses as the moon began to obscure the sun. This slow, anticipatory phase was akin to watching movie trailers before the main feature. By 3:00 pm, the daylight began to change dramatically; the light turned bluer, shadows deepened, and the dormant grass shimmered like platinum.The experience was certainly living up to the hype.
Experiencing Totality
And then, at 3:26 pm est, the real event begun to shine. Or rather didn’t shine. Totality had begun. The temperature, which already had become chilly with the approach of the eclipse, dropped precipitously. The air still, birds became silent and the landscape around us cast into twilight.
It was surreal.
The experience was indescribable; no photo could truly capture the grandeur of day turning to night, with only a silver halo suspended in the sky and sunsets encircling the horizon in every direction.
I’ll simply say this: if you ever have the opportunity to witness an eclipse in person, seize it.
It’s worth every moment.
Almost as quickly as it started, the eclipse ended, and the day returned to normal. Callan shared the same awe, lingering even after the light had returned. Wyatt paused to watch the event and then, almost indifferently, returned to searching for pollywogs in the backyard pond. (It was only hours later that he admitted he loved the eclipse and was sad it was so brief).
With the sun completing its path across the sky, we packed up our things and said our goodbyes, hoping to get on the road quickly to avoid traffic.
We didn’t.
The return drive from Northern Vermont to our home in Massachusetts turned a typical four-hour journey into a seven-hour adventure. But the boys, whom I expected to be restless, were absolute peaches and didn’t complain, especially after we snuck in one final stop for candy.
It was a boys’ trip, after all.
