A First-Hand Account of the Total Solar Eclipse of 1999
Copyright (c) panini. All Rights Reserved
"On the day of the new moon, in the month of Hiyar, the Sun was put to shame, and went down in the daytime, with Mars in attendance."
One of the earliest written records of an eclipse of the Sun, on May 3, 1375 BC, found in the city of Ugarit in Mesopotamia.
It's often difficult for us today, to bridge the gap across the millennia and relate to our ancestors of the distant past. This is because we have so few points of reference in common with them to help us make that emotional connection. The world has changed so much: customs, language, technology, philosophy, science -- all have changed so dramatically over the past few millennia -- that we have few experiences in common with them. Sure, we can observe an ancient artifact in a museum, carefully preserved and sealed within a protective glass case. Or walk among ruins which though impressive, are but sparse skeletons of their former glory. But these do little to help us imagine what daily life was really like for someone who lived and died a few thousand years ago. What were their fears, hopes, and dreams? How did they perceive the world around them?
In order to answer these questions, one can devote several years of study and research to the history, language, and archeology of a particular culture during a particular time period, thereby becoming enough of an expert to reconstruct an approximate mental image of how the world would have been perceived by a person in that culture at that time. However, there are a few events that are so powerful, so universal that they render any other differences as insignificant, and allow us to make an instant connection to other human beings thousands of years in the past. A total eclipse of the sun is one such event.
Last month, I went on a tour to Turkey organized by the Monterey Institute for Research in Astronomy (MIRA), primarily to observe the total solar eclipse on August 17, 1999. I had seen a partial eclipse before but not a total eclipse. I had also never been to Turkey before, so this trip was doubly exciting for me! The eclipse path of totality would pass through several countries including England, Germany, Romania, Turkey, and Iraq. Turkey was chosen as the preferred location based a number of factors including probability of clear weather and duration of totality. Statistically, Turkey had a 70-80% probability of clear weather, as compared to 40% in France.
Marge Bennett, our tour organizer, had put together a 10-day Turkey sight-seeing and eclipse viewing tour, with an optional 4-day Greek Island cruise extension. Rod Norden was our astronomy guide and eclipse expert. A total of twelve gentle people signed up for the tour, resulting in a small pleasant group that could travel in comfort. Some of them had seen total eclipses before and were hoping to recapture that glory. Others like myself had never seen one and were hoping to experience it for the first time. And this one was special, in a way: it would be the last total solar eclipse of the century and in fact, of the millennium!
We arrived in Istanbul on August 8, and spent two days seeing the sights there. This magnificent, bustling city of about 14 million is steeped in history that goes back at least 10,000 years! Traces of settlements around the area date well back into the Neolithic Age. The first major settlement was established by the Dorians in 680 BC. Since then, control of the city has changed hands numerous times, probably because of its prime geographical location and convenient natural harbor. General Byzas took control in 660 BC; the Persians captured it in 513 BC; the Athenians seized it in 407 BC; the Galatians settled it in 227 BC; the city allied itself with Rome in 146 BC; in 196 AD Emperor Severus included it within Roman Empire. Emperor Constantine renamed the city to Constantinople and declared it to be the eastern capital of the Roman Empire in 330. In 395 the city separated from the Roman Empire and became the capital of the Byzantine Empire. The Arabs attempted to conquer the city several times from 666 to 870. In 1054 the Catholic and Orthodox Churches separated. The first wave of the Crusades passed through Constantinople on 1095. In the 11th and 12th centuries the Genoese and Venetians controlled the trade in the region. The Fourth Crusade came in 1204 and captured and ruined the city. The Paleologos Dynasty conquered the city in 1261. Constantinople was besieged by the Ottoman (correct: Osman) Turks in 1390 and 1422, and finally conquered in 1453, and its name was changed to Istanbul. In 1517 the city was the center of the whole Islamic world. In 1919 Istanbul was captured by the Allied Forces. The new Turkish Republic was established in 1923.
Thinking about the deep, rich history of this ancient city, I am bemusedly reminded of a building near where I live in California that was recently proudly declared to be an official "Historical Marker". The building dates all the way back to 1959!
We flew to the northern coastal town of Samsun on the Black Sea on August 10, the day before the eclipse. This allowed us to settle into our hotel rooms, and still have half a day to prepare our equipment and plan for tomorrow's activities. Totality would last 2 minutes and 17 seconds. After spending thousands of dollars and travelling thousands of miles, those 137 seconds would be precious indeed! In order not to squander them, our activities during that time would have to be carefully planned. No fumbling with equipment -- tripods, filters, aperture, focus, lenses, timing. All had to be set correctly or the shot would be irretrievably lost.
Roger and I went to Rod's room to test out our equipment and conduct a sort of "dress rehearsal". My main equipment consisted of a Nikon 950 digital camera with 200 mm telephoto lens, which is inadequate for detailed shots of the eclipse. At least 500 mm is desirable, preferably 1000 mm. Rod had by far the best equipment in the group -- a gorgeous AstroPhysics refractor with 92.5 mm f/5 objective lens with fluorite coatings, and Zeiss binocular viewer with PanOptic eyepieces. Rod generously agreed to allow me to try one shot through his telescope during totality, by holding my camera over the eyepiece. It sounds like a hack, but we thought that it just might work.
5:00 am. We woke up per plan, to allow enough time to get ready and check out of the hotel and still be on the road by 7 am. I walk straight to the balcony outside and look up -- solid white! A flash of panic before I attempt to rationalize the situation calmly: it is only 5 am, I tell myself; this morning fog will surely burn off by eclipse time which is still several hours away. Also, we are right by the Black Sea (Kara Deniz) where coastal fog would not be unusual. Even if the fog lingered near the coast, surely it would be clear at the pre-arranged eclipse site which was about 100 miles inland. I put aside all worries and start preparing to leave the hotel.
7:00 am. All packed into our motorcoach, we leave the hotel for the eclipse site. By now everyone has seen that sky is completely cloudy but no one is saying much. I have my Blue Eye, a Turkish amulet of good luck.
8:47 am. Now half way to Osmancik. Sky still completely overcast. Looking very bad! Yahya (our Turkish Tour Guide) is frantically calling various people around Turkey on his cell phone to get weather reports.
8:58 am. A local official in Osmancik contacted by phone says the sky is clear there! Our spirits are lifted somewhat.
9:09 am. 2 or 3 small patches of blue in the clouds. Possibly a good sign?
9:17 am. Sky is solid white again! The whole group is getting very nervous. Marge is already doing damage control, saying that this will have been a wonderful trip even if we miss the eclipse. Everyone nods agreement, though without really meaning it. Yes we have had a great time so far, but THIS is our main reason for coming here. If we missed the eclipse it would be a major disappointment. And that potential disappointment was not hidden on our faces. Rod starts devising alternate plans.
9:30 am. Clouds thinning somewhat. A few holes are visible. We have a plan -- if Osmancik is not clear, we keep on driving until skies are clear. We will even sacrifice viewing of partial phases for clear view of totality.
9:38 am. Full cloud cover again! Very bad. We are now a fair distance inland and separated from the coast by a mountain range. The skies should be clearer here. But they are not.
10:02 am. Reached Osmancik, our original destination -- very cloudy! We drive right past it as per plan B. We are sure glad we allowed for extra driving time. We no longer have a specific destination. We would simply drive until we find clear skies, and be prepared to set up there -- even it's on the side of the road.
10:15 am. Rod makes contact with Istanbul Meteorological Bureau. They inform us that all Turkey east of 28 degrees is partly cloudy. Good thing we are driving west! They are sympathetic to our plight and offer advice: find a hole in the clouds and move with it. Good plan, except we don't see any holes!
10:30 am. Yahya calls his friend and fellow tour guide who says that he is in Kastamonu now with another eclipse group from Japan and there are no clouds there at all! We are immediately skeptical of this claim, based our prior experience and the skies in our immediate vicinity. But we have no other option -- new destination Kastamonu!
11:00 am. Made it to a small town called Tosya. Sky mostly cloudy, with some blue visible. We are driving through the mountains past farms and lovely pastoral scenes. Still over an hour away from Kastamonu, and just 2 hours from First Contact. Rod vows to kiss Yahya's friend if he turns out to be correct.
12:15 am. Arrived at Kastamonu -- SKIES ARE TOTALLY CLEAR! Our bus erupts in cheers. We can hardly believe our good luck.
Our viewing site could not be more perfect. We are in a soccer field -- plenty of open space to set up our equipment. A Japanese eclipse team is already here, as well as a large group of students. We first spread out several white bed sheets on the ground in hopes of capturing the elusive shadow bands. A dozen tripods sprout from the grassy field. Someone worries about automatic sprinklers possibly turning on. Lenses get screwed on, solar filters get attached, eyepieces get selected. We finish setting up everything at 12:57, ONE MINUTE before first contact. We could not have cut it closer if we tried!
I was the first to call out, "First contact!" after observing it through my #14 welder's glass. I took a series of shots of the partial phases, about 5 minutes apart. For the first 75% of partiality, there was hardly any discernible change visible with the naked eye. During the
last 25% however, it becomes noticeable. The sky does darken, but in a manner very different from dusk. Rather than the soft warm reddish glow of a normal sunset, it was an eerie harsh lambency which more resembled indoor office lighting.
Someone yells, "shadow bands!" and all eyes turn downward. Shadow bands are a mysterious and even more elusive phenomenon. Faint but unmistakable undulating ripples sweep across our "shadow band catcher" -- several white bed sheets spread out on the ground to increase contrast. The parallel bands are 12 inches wide and 18 inches apart. They last for more than 10 seconds. Shadow bands are usually missed by eclipse watchers. We are fortunate indeed!
As we get closer to totality things start to happen very fast. One of my goals was to capture the "diamond ring" on camera. This is a transient effect that occurs just before (and just after) totality when only one tiny spot of the sun is exposed and resembles a diamond ring on photographs. It is a difficult shot, because of the narrow window of opportunity (a few seconds) and the tricky exposure settings required. Perhaps my Blue Eye was working overtime since I was lucky enough to get the shot on my first try!
In the last few seconds before totality the sky darkens suddenly and dramatically. Then, the long awaited moment of totality arrives. Although one must use of course use proper filters to view the sun during the partial phases, it is completely safe to observe it with the naked eye once totality has started. However, I did not look up right away. Instead for the first few seconds I chose to take in the scene on the ground and to the horizon. It was quite dark though not pitch black. It was perhaps a bit brighter than a full moon night.
I look up and am astounded. I had expected (perhaps naively) to see a dark spot with a dull glow around it. What I see instead is a stunning celestial display far exceeding expectations. The colors of the chromosphere are vivid: bright red, magenta and deep purple. There are several solar prominences clearly visible all around the disk. At about 8 o'clock there is a particularly large double prominence. At 4 o'clock there's one that appears to be completely detached from the surface. The streamers in the outer corona extend as far as one and a half solar diameters away.
I am transfixed by the scene, and for a moment time stops. I am experiencing a primal, visceral reaction. I am surrounded by modern technology; I have studied astronomy; I understand the nuclear reactions that power the Sun; I can write the equations that describe the Moon's orbit around the Earth. None of these make any difference now. They have become totally irrelevant before this awesome spectacle of nature. Forces which can move celestial objects around like pinballs, which can light up a whole planet and then quickly take that light away -- these are forces to be reckoned with! These forces are difficult to comprehend. How insignificant by comparison are the toils of Man. In this cessation of time, my mind travels backwards into eons past. I start to wonder how my distant ancestors would have felt when they looked up and saw their Sun disappear. Just as quickly, I realize the answer: they would have felt exactly the same as I do now! While many superficial things have changed, still others remain constant. It is the same Sun up there that lit up the day for Emperor Constantine as he ruled the Eastern Roman Empire not too far from here. It is the same Moon up there that inspired poets and lovers in the ancient city of Pergamum to the southwest. It is the same human nature I have that I share with the Neolithic peoples that inhabited the area around Ankara to the south 50,000 years ago. These are the things which connect me to them.
I awaken from my reverie to again notice the goings on around me. At first there was silence. Then, inhalations of surprise (and fear?). Then, screams and squeals of delight. Someone yells, "There's Venus!" Another says, "The street lights have turned on!" I now have about 30 seconds to detach my camera from the tripod, remove the telephoto lens, and change several digital settings, as I had rehearsed several times yesterday, and take it over to where Rod is standing to attempt a shot through his scope. I check the framing -- OH NO! The zoom setting is wrong and, somehow, the scope has been knocked off center! There is no time to correct it -- I simply snap the shutter as is and hope for the best. Again, my Blue Eye came through for me -- this turned out to be the best of my eclipse photos!
Totality lasted for exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds as predicted, perhaps the shortest two minutes and seventeen seconds of my life! Following the magical 1371 seconds of totality was another hour or so of outgoing partial phases. Everything that happened leading up to totality now repeats itself, except in reverse order.
We shared the soccer field with a group of young college girls from Ankara University (mostly botany majors I later found out). They were quite pretty and charming, though very shy at first. A few were dressed in a more traditional Muslim garb, while the rest were dressed in western clothes. Throughout the eclipse they had watched us with interest -- we were a boisterous group of foreigners, and we had the fancy equipment. Their equipment consisted only of those cheap cardboard "eclipse glasses". The bravest among them approached Rod for a view through his telescope, which was now refitted with high-quality mylar solar filters. A few minutes later, another girl came up for a look. Then, another. And another. The brave girl came back for a second look. Soon, the entire group had lined up behind Rod's telescope. Their natural curiosity had overpowered the barrier of shyness. It is quite a sight to look directly at the disk of the sun under high magnification (with appropriate filters of course), and know that this intensely blazing ball of hydrogen gas is the thing that gives us light, warmth, and life everyday. At this time the moon was still obscuring about half of the sun, and there was a particularly interesting set of sunspots in the lower part of the image. The look on their smiling faces as each one stepped away from the telescope revealed the emotional impact of the view. As they looked, Rod explained to them some astronomical facts about what they were seeing, with Yahya providing the Turkish translation. Rod, for generously allowing use of the extremely delicate instrument which he cared for like a baby, became an instant celebrity to the girls who were clearly grateful for the experience. The brave girl handed a camera to her friend and put her arm on Rod's shoulder for a picture. Soon, there was another line of Turkish girls wanting to have their pictures taken with the strange American astronomer. Rod of course was only too happy to oblige, his arms around two or even three co-eds at a time. After everyone had gotten their fill of pictures and telescopes, one girl put something in Yahya's hand and whispered in his ear, while the others tried to suppress giggles. Yahya explained that the girls had taken up an impromptu collection amongst themselves, and were presenting Rod with a 250,000 Turkish Lira note (about 55 cents) as a token of their appreciation. Rod bowed, deeply honored, accepted the gift graciously and told them he would use the money to buy another telescope. The place erupted in laughter. Earlier when we had visited the opulent palaces of the Sultan in Istanbul, we had joked about how grand it would be to be "Sultan for a Day"; this became a running joke throughout our trip. Now Rod had become a Sultan, if only for an hour! As we were still coming off our post-eclipse high, these beautiful girls provided us with an amusing sidelight to cap off our wonderful experience in Kastamonu. More importantly, the spectacle of the eclipse allowed us, across barriers of language, culture, and geography, to make a connection to other human souls -- of the past as well as the present.
I can think of no better way to end this article than with a few lines from a fellow eclipse traveller and poet:
And thus we saw in sheer delight
A perfect day turn into night.
It was a quintessential thing:
A million dollar diamond ring!
It isn't often one can see
A sight of solar ecstasy!
And as we stood upon that field
Both Truth and Beauty were revealed.
-- Frederic "Buzz" Rainer, from "Turkish Delights"
1. I found it remarkable that it happened to be 137. The number 137 has a very special significance to physicists, not unlike the number pi to mathematicians. This number, known as the reciprocal of the fine structure constant, is used in a branch of physics called quantum electrodynamics. The well-known physicist Dr. Kip Thorne of Caltech once related this anecdote about how physicists can use this number to recognize each other: Thorne was to be picked up at the airport by a colleague whom he had never seen before, and who had never seen him. The colleague stood at the gate with a sign that said simply "137". Thorne recognized his connection instantly.
Baily's Beads |
Light that shines through nooks and crannies of the edge of the Moon's disk just before or just after totality, resembling beads strung together in a necklace. |
|---|---|
chromosphere |
The thin layer of the solar atmosphere above the photosphere and below the corona. Normally invisible except during a solar eclipse when it is vividly colored in shades of red and purple. |
corona |
|
diamond ring |
The effect just before or just after totality when there is only one small bright spot of sunlight shining through. When photographed, it resembles a diamond ring. |
first contact |
The start of an eclipse when the Moon first appear to touch the edge of the Sun |
fourth contact |
The end of the eclipse when the Moon no longer appears to be in contact with the Sun. |
lunar eclipse |
Occurs when the Earth is between the Sun and the Moon, and the Earth's shadow falls on the surface of the Moon. Distinguished from a solar eclipse. |
photosphere |
|
second contact |
The start of totality, where the Sun is 100% obscured by the Moon. |
shadow bands |
Faint, rippling bands of shadow that are sometimes visible just before or just after totality. The causes are not completely understood, but they are generally due to refraction of sunlight through turbulence in the lower atmosphere. The effect is not unlike the shadows on the bottom of a swimming pool. |
solar eclipse |
Occurs when the Moon is between the Sun and the Earth, and the Moon's shadow falls on the surface of the Earth. Distinguished from a lunar eclipse. |
solar prominence |
A bright cloud-like feature in the solar atmosphere. Often has a filamentary structure |
sunspots |
Dark spots on the photosphere of the sun which are cooler than the surrounding area. They are caused by concentrations of magnetic flux and can affect radio communications on Earth. Sunspots occur in a roughly 7 year cycle. |
third contact |
The end of totality, where the Sun starts to become unobscured by the Moon. |
totality |
The part of an eclipse where the Moon completely obscures the Sun. The phases between second contact and third contact. A total eclipse occurs somewhere on Earth roughly every 2 years. |
By far the best eclipse page on the Web! You can find everything to do with eclipses here.
Fred Espenak's Eclipse PhotosFred's eclipse photos collected in one place.
All of my eclipse photos are here.
A different account of the same eclipse by a veteran eclipse chaser. Includes very nice eclipse photos.
Yet another account of the same eclipse, but observed from Germany.
Several online astronomy lectures on an intermediate level. You can also ask a question, through e-mail, of an astronomy expert.