“What can the astronomer do, when, just as the moon is about to obscure the sun during a total eclipse, a cloud intervenes?” Popular Science posed such a dilemma to its readers in a 1919 solar eclipse story. “Pack up and go home” was the answer for the average eclipse viewer. But even in 1919 extreme eclipse chasers had contingency plans.
The moon’s full shadow hurtles across the Earth at a breakneck 1,500 mph roughly every 18 months. By a twist of cosmic fate unique in our solar system, our planet’s one and only moon happens to be the right size and distance to completely block the sun’s face, briefly exposing its corona, creating a spectacular sight. But that complete overlap only happens in a narrow path about 100 miles wide—the path of totality.
Extreme eclipse chasers, who call themselves umbraphiles, will seek that path whenever it comes around, even to the remotest regions of Earth. Since the path carved by the moon’s shadow typically traverses thousands of miles—across oceans and continents—the goal is to pick a destination known for its cloudless skies.
Kelly Korreck, NASA’s program manager for the 2024 solar eclipse, which will speed across the US from Texas to Maine on April 8, has viewed eclipses from places as different as the deck of a US aircraft carrier (USS Yorktown) and the northern Chilean coast. For Korreck, the experience is incomparable. “Very strong emotions come up,” she says, “from almost fear that the sun has gone away to something very magical and very exciting.” As soon as it’s over—totality only lasts several minutes or less, location dependent—she admits that her immediate thought is, “When’s the next one? Where are we going to go?”
In 1919, jetting across the world was not yet possible, and less of the planet was developed and accessible. Eclipse chasers were mostly…
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