In the dark on the Black Sea

In the dark on the Black Sea

The total solar eclipse of 1999 • Image by Luc Viatour (CC BY-SA 3.0)

Originally published 30 August 1999

It was a long way to go for two-and-a-half min­utes of darkness.

On August 11 [1999], 800 avid eclipse chasers, includ­ing a high-tech team from NASA, wait­ed on a ship in the Black Sea for a total eclipse of the sun.

Our loca­tion offered sev­er­al advan­tages: first, it was close to the place of max­i­mum eclipse dura­tion; sec­ond, it had a bet­ter-than-aver­age chance of clear skies; and third, the ship’s mobil­i­ty made it pos­si­ble to seek a hole in the clouds in case of spot­ty weather.

The moon’s shad­ow first touched Earth in the Atlantic Ocean south of New­found­land, then swept east­ward across the south­west­ern tip of Eng­land, cen­tral Europe, the Black Sea, Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Pak­istan, and India — a rac­ing dot of dark­ness on the face of the globe.

The lucky peo­ple of Stuttgart, Munich, and Bucharest could sit in their back gar­dens and watch this most spec­tac­u­lar of nature’s phe­nom­e­na — if skies were clear, which they weren’t over much of Europe — but the rest of us had to make a jour­ney to a far­away place. Many life­times might pass with­out a total solar eclipse hap­pen­ing in the place where we live.

Most peo­ple will know why solar eclipses hap­pen: The moon blocks the sun’s light. What is less well under­stood is why total solar eclipses are so rare.

Think of the Earth as a grape­fruit. On the same scale, the moon would be a grape about 20 feet away. The moon moves around the Earth in an almost per­fect­ly cir­cu­lar orbit, but the Earth is not quite at the cen­ter of the cir­cle. Some­times the moon is a bit far­ther from the Earth and some­times a bit closer.

Like every object in the solar sys­tem, the moon casts a con­i­cal shad­ow that points away from the sun. The moon wears its per­ma­nent shad­ow — lunar night — like a long, thin wiz­ard’s cap. To have a total eclipse of the sun, some part of the Earth­’s sur­face must pass with­in that shadow.

Now here’s the kick­er: The moon’s shad­ow is almost exact­ly as long as the aver­age dis­tance of the moon from the Earth (think of the grape with its 20-foot-long shad­ow taper­ing to a point). When the moon is near apogee — its great­est dis­tance from Earth — the shad­ow does not quite reach the Earth and a total eclipse can­not occur. When the moon is near perigee — its near­est dis­tance to Earth — the thin tip of the shad­ow can reach the Earth, or even extend a bit beyond it.

This time, the inter­sec­tion of the shad­ow with the Earth­’s sur­face was a near­ly cir­cu­lar oval about 60 miles wide.

If the moon were a bit small­er or a bit far­ther away we would­n’t have solar eclipses at all. And if the moon were big­ger or clos­er the inter­sec­tion of Earth and shad­ow would be larg­er and eclipses would­n’t be quite so rare. By a curi­ous celes­tial coin­ci­dence, the rel­a­tive sizes and dis­tances of sun and moon are such that we are graced with an extra­or­di­nary event that is deli­cious­ly rare.

Dur­ing the next decade there will be only six total eclipses of the sun, and each of them will require a sub­stan­tial journey.

June 21, 2001. The shad­ow will sweep across equa­to­r­i­al Africa. Many peo­ple will be wait­ing on ships in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Ango­la, near the place of max­i­mum duration.

Decem­ber 4, 2002. Max­i­mum eclipse dura­tion will occur in the South Pacif­ic, although the begin­ning and end of the eclipse will touch Africa and Aus­tralia. One spot on the coast of Ango­la will expe­ri­ence max­i­mum dura­tion two years in a row.

Novem­ber 23, 2003. The frozen con­ti­nent of Antarc­ti­ca will see the eclipse.

March 29, 2006. Max­i­mum eclipse dura­tion will be in the Sahara Desert, but a fleet of cruise ships will be wait­ing in the east­ern Mediter­ranean Sea off the coast of Egypt.

August 1, 2008. Siberia is the destination.

July 22, 2009. Eclipse chasers will head for Shanghai.

Not until 2017 will the tip of the moon’s shad­ow sweep across the Unit­ed States.

In for­mer times most peo­ple lived and died with­out wit­ness­ing a total solar eclipse. In this day of con­ve­nient and rel­a­tive­ly inex­pen­sive trav­el, no one should miss the chance to see a total solar eclipse at least once, which was why I was on that cruise ship in the Black Sea with 800 oth­er people.

The shad­ow of the moon sliced across the Earth­’s sur­face like the tip of a fencer’s blade. We were wait­ing in a calm sea under cloud­less skies when the oval of dark­ness raced over us, extin­guish­ing the sun’s light for two-and-a-half minutes.

With a last blaze of glo­ry — like the gem of a dia­mond ring — the sun’s disk appeared to become jet black. Streaks of sil­ver radi­ance streamed out­ward into a blue-black sky, and crim­son flecks marked solar storms leap­ing beyond the rim of the cov­er­ing moon. Venus blazed near­by. The hori­zon all around was rosy with a mid­day dawn.

When the sun went dark, 800 jaws dropped and eyes gaped wide. The Sec­ond Com­ing could hard­ly have evoked more awe.

Was it worth trav­el­ing thou­sands of miles to see? You bet.

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