2003 Nov 23 - Eclipse-chasing in Antarctica (by Dan Lynch)

The recent total solar eclipse of November 23rd was something of a special eclipse. Like many new Irish amateur astronomers, my first experience of a solar eclipse occurred back in August 1999. As a 16 year old, it had been a triumph to make it to Germany, near Karsrühe, in order to see the spectacle. The clouds, however, had other ideas and, instead, I was left to enjoy 2 minutes of darkness before the rain started falling. Now the dramatic light-level drop was almost enough to satisfy me. I hadn't expected it to go that dark and I just might have left my eclipse chasing at that...

That is if I hadn't come home to some of the spectacular video footage on the TV later that day. I jealously watched all the news reports, showing the spectacular black disk, from all the clear spots along the track. I just had to see this for myself. That night I promised that I would make it to the next eclipse. So finally, in 2001, under a pristine clear sky, I experienced, with a very understanding mother by my side, 2 minutes and 30 seconds of totality from Zimbabwe. I was hooked.

2002 was my first year in college and I had to sacrifice another Zimbabwean eclipse for the sake of my Christmas exams. Last May brought with it an annular eclipse in Scotland. It was with great hospitality that I viewed the dramatic ring of fire, with a friend, Thomas Kinsella, over the sea from a private beach attached to our B&B in Durness.

Which brings us neatly to the small matter of the total solar eclipse of November 23rd. A small overview is in order. A member of the Saros 152 group, the extremely wide eclipse track was visible exclusively over the Antarctic continent. On the ground, totality would last, at its maximum, just under 2 minutes. Now usually an eclipse expedition, if anticipated, is planned years in advance. The Scottish annular eclipse having been viewed, I had no intention of going to the Antarctic. Not only was it highly impractical but also the expeditions that I had seen advertised, by land and icebreaker, required between EUR 16,000 and EUR 40,000. That simply wasn't going to happen.

It wasn't until I joined the SEML (Solar Eclipse Mailing List), an email-based group dedicated entirely to solar eclipses, that I found an alternative to the icebreaker and land trips. This group receives input from the world's foremost chasers and amateurs alike. Many of the members were put out by the enormous costs and lobbied for a cheap "Antarctic Express" package to be assembled. Step forward Glenn Schneider. Glenn is the instrument scientist for the NICMOS (Near Infrared Camera and Multi-Object Spectrometer) onboard the Hubble Space Telescope. More pertinently, he is an avid umbraphile, having stood in the shadow no less than 23 occasions. And those are just totals!

Glenn, having organised many aerial interceptions of the moon's shadow, was now faced with one of the most difficult challenges yet. He made contact with Croydon travel, who do sightseeing tours of Antarctica from the air, and put together an aerial eclipse package leaving from Australia. Glenn planned to use his programme E-Flight to do the many necessary complicated calculations to ensure a successful observation. He would also be doing this for the separate Sky & Telescope group, who would be flying from Chile.

The flight from Australia was, however, vastly more affordable (since passengers interested solely in Antarctic sightseeing were to be taken on the non-eclipse side of the plane, thus subsidising the cost for the eclipse enthusiasts; more about this later) with prices ranging from EUR 700 to EUR 8,000, depending on what sort of view you were prepared to accept.

The large price range was due to the differing seats available. Whereas an A seat with complete access to a window would set you back EUR 5,000, a C seat (i.e. aisle seat) would only cost EUR 700 - the only problem being that there are two eclipse chasers, who've paid a lot of money, sitting between you and the eclipse. A view of the eclipse from this seat would not be guaranteed; and you can forget about trying to take photos.

Being a poor UCD student, my budget was nowhere near an A seat. It could, however, stretch (rather painfully I might add) to a B seat. Now, the question begged, would a B seat be sure to give a good view? Well the short answer is no; there's every chance that the small airplane window wouldn't take more than the equipment and head of the A seat passenger; and surely he wouldn't be willing to share that view. A little bit of research, however, is no bad thing. With the seating plan to hand, I had an idea; wouldn't it be possible to view the eclipse from the emergency door window? And where is the emergency door located on a Qantas Boeing 747-400? It didn't take me too long to figure that the front row in either of the two sections of seats would be ideal. From there, the A seat passenger would have his window and I, the B seat passenger, could simply lean forward and view it, unobstructed, from the extra window of the emergency door. It was a risk all the same; maybe Croydon travel wouldn't let me use this window; maybe someone else would claim it. Those were risks, however, that I was willing to assume.

So off I went, disbelieving friends in my wake. The flight path was gruelling. Dublin - London. London - Seoul. Seoul - Sydney. I was staying in a moderately nice hotel in Sydney. Unfortunately, with the Rugby World Cup on, the price of accommodation, should you be lucky enough to find any, was astronomical. I had bought a ticket to the 3rd/4th place playoff in the RWC in the mistaken notion that Ireland would make it to the semi-finals. Alas I watched the All Blacks trounce Les Blues. Well I can't say I was too disappointed. My feelings towards the French have been coloured horribly by a disastrous French exchange programme back in 2nd Year. Maybe it's too long to hold a grudge. But when you throw grass down the tube of an astronomer's telescope, no matter how young he is, the chances are that you'll never be forgiven. Case in point.

First port of call in Sydney was the historic Sydney Observatory. Built specifically for the 1882 Venus transit, I was privileged enough to use their modern telescopes, including a really impressive H/Alpha 'scope, for solar observations. The large sunspot group that had caused so much auroral activity was nicely re-centring on schedule for the solar eclipse. That night the earthshine on the moon was as pronounced as I've ever seen it and the Magellanic Clouds were an added bonus too.

Glenn Schneider had kindly put me in contact with a pair of chasers who were boarding the plane in Sydney (note: the QF2901 was to leave Sydney for Melbourne before heading to the Antarctic) and so we had arranged to meet up in the days before the eclipse. Jean-Luc Dighaye and Matthew Poulton seemed to be part of an astronomy team, EurAstro. Jean-Luc was Belgian, working in Germany and Matthew was English, working in Norway. Not knowing what they looked like, I was apprehensive about my chances of picking them out in the hotel lobby that we arranged to meet in. Amidst the sea of rugby jerseys stood out two middle aged men proudly donning their eclipse t-shirts. No problem afterall.

Over the next 2 days, they kindly brought me to dinner in some very nice restaurants and I enjoyed going about Sydney with them. Matthew happened upon an excellent ticket to the World Cup final for a reasonable amount of money. Imagine that; winning the World Cup and becoming one of the first humans to see an Antarctic eclipse, all in the space of 3 days. That would be pretty memorable.

The next day we boarded the Qantas QF2901; the flagship Qantas Boeing 747-400 was appropriately named "Longreach". And it would stand to its name. We left Sydney bound for Melbourne, where we would pick up the majority of the chasers, including Jay Pasachoff, Michael Maunder and Glenn Schneider. The excitement was palpable.

While I was upgraded on the flight to and from Melbourne, I was able to check out my arrangements for Antarctica. I was extremely pleased to see that there were 3 windows beside my seat. Whoever was in the A seat would never be able to take up that many! But there was still a worry in my mind. The reason for the relative cheapness of the flight was due to us taking onboard extra passengers on the non- eclipse side of the plane. They were there solely to view Antarctica as well as subsidize the cost to us, the eclipse chasers. And while it was made clear to them that they were not allowed to interfere with our viewing of the eclipse, one could never be sure that they wouldn't try.

Many hours into the flight and the Antarctic sightseers were getting a raw deal. With a blizzard raging below, virtually nothing was seen for the majority of the first half of the trip. There are very strict regulations regarding how low you can fly over the Antarctic after an Air New Zealand plane crashed into Mount Erebus in 1979 and so we were unable to avoid the white out. Then, with about 25 minutes to our intercept run, the clouds below us (unfortunately) broke revealing the beauty of Antarctica. It was at that point, understandably, that the non-eclipse fare, and some of the less placed (i.e. aisle seat) passengers, decided to start moving around the aircraft, taking pictures of the spectacle below. And wouldn't you know it?; some people decided to set up camp right at my lovely emergency door window.

It became obvious to me that the travel company weren't going to do anything about it so I decided to dispense with the pleasantries. I forced my way to the window, in exchange giving up my seat with the rather large person who had camped at the window. With him contently leaning over the shoulders of the A seat chaser, I was left to deal with the growing numbers appearing behind my shoulders, all desperate for a view of the eclipse. With totality creeping up, some strong words, broad shoulders and sharp elbows, I made it as clear as I could that I wasn't up for sharing the window but that they could look over or under me as long as they didn't impede my viewing. I guess I feel a little guilty that I didn't freely share the experience with them but at the same time, I didn't travel all that way for nothing. In fairness, not only did they have no claim to be in that area but they also had the opportunity to purchase eclipse seat tickets pre-flight and hadn't done so.

"1 minute to 2nd contact" Glenn announces over the P.A. I have my video camcorder rolling. You can see very distinctly a wall of darkness, the moon's shadow, with a clear demarcation line between the brightness and shadow projected onto the clouds below. The clouds outside of the shadow start taking on a sandy tan colour. The sun is the smallest of slivers now.

"30 seconds to 2nd contact". Glenn's voice has more urgency this time. On the horizon, a thin band, not unlike a sunset, grows. This veil of atmosphere looks like that seen by astronauts and the vivid colours are due to a combination of location and altitude. The sliver gets smaller. The shadow roars slightly closer.

"10 seconds to 2nd contact. Filters off for viewing the diamond ring". I glance up, having been transfixed on the shadow behind us. The sun is still far too bright. "5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1". Nope, the sliver is still there. "Eh, I guess we're running a little ahead of schedule here. Stand by for 2nd contact".

5 seconds later, the shadow glides over my window, having attached the diamond ring to the right hand side of the black sun. I must admit that I was paying more attention to the shadow (since an aeroplane permits the best view of it) and was struck by the synchronicity of both the shadow and eclipse.

But if the diamond ring failed to grab my attention, the corona wasn't content to do the same. The structure was awesome. There were three large coronal streamers at the 2 o' clock position and one extremely long streamer in the 7 o' clock position, out visibly to 4+ solar diameters. I shakily zoomed in with my handheld camcorder. Enough of that, I thought. I grabbed the binoculars and tried to focus for what seemed like an eternity. Flaming prominences were to be seen in the same positions as the streamers. This is magnificent.

The beauty of the corona blew me away. It was far more beautiful than Zimbabwe '01. The sublime spikes and streamers were aided by the incredible clarity of the Antarctic sky at such altitude. This also gave rise to the sky being darker than anyone had seen it in a previous eclipse. There's Venus ... and Mercury. Finally, I get to see Mercury in a total solar eclipse. It was almost too beautiful. "How can I top something like this?" I thought.

Glenn, meanwhile, had been spewing his impressions at a rapid pace. "3rd contact soon. Look out for the chromosphere". There, hanging to the left hand side of the disc, was a layer of fiery red, trapped between the darkness of the disc and the majesty of the pearly corona. I had never seen the chromosphere before. And seconds later, in its place, the 2nd diamond ring formed. "WooooHooooo!". That was me ... not Glenn.

I must admit that, as well as elation, a feeling of relief passed over me. As great as it was to view an eclipse from the air, I didn't appreciate the extra stress and unknowns involved. The ground was much easier to work with, albeit with the cloud problem. Of course I was delighted with the extra features the flight brought, especially the air clarity, given the quality of the corona. Flying through the moon's shadow is certainly worth doing at least once, just for the extra experience.

The rest of the journey was spent talking to people and admiring the beauty of Antarctica below. The flight, in its entirety lasted 13 hours 56 minutes, block to block. That broke the previously stated world record for the longest domestic flight in history. I should point out that the flight was designated as domestic because it left from and landed back in Australia.

The whole trip just brought home to me the brilliance of such an event. And while it strengthened my addiction / affliction for eclipses, I am, at least, satisfied to say that I won't travel for the 2005 total, as it's during my university finals, and can wait for 2006. I've got my hit, as it were.

So given the amount of money it cost and the exhaustion that a 60-hour flight time to and from Ireland caused, would I do it again? You need not ask. Roll on the next Antarctic eclipse, TSE2021!

Copyright © 2004 Daniel Lynch