Living but three and one half freeway hours south of 2017’s North American Total Solar Eclipse, I took Monday off to enjoy the festivities.  The brother had first pointed out the approaching astronomic event to me well over a year before only to discover that hotels had already filled up.  No matter.  The nephew-in-law has a grandmother who lives in Pocatello, Idaho two and one half hours north of our Salt Lake City, Utah, USA home so Sunday afternoon the family packed up and drove two thirds of the way to Totality to spend the night with Grandma before departing the following morning to complete the trip.  Monday morning Interstate 15 traffic was terrifyingly bad but, being more or less in our own backyard, we’d long before decided to avoid the beaten path and quickly departed the jammed freeway proceeding northwest to Arco, Idaho via US Hwy 26.  This proved wise decision and once off the freeway traffic thinned meaning we wouldn’t miss the event in a tangle of cars.

Arco’s a small town of 1,000 residents located in the Idaho high desert 5,300 feet above sea level exactly one and one third blocks north of the godforsaken middle of nowhere making it idyllic eclipse viewing location but we didn’t reach it.  The three year old granddaughter suddenly had to pee really, really bad so we pulled off at the Idaho National Laboratories Experimental Breeder Reactor Museum 20 miles short of our goal for emergency potty break.  Stepping out of my truck I looked at the surrounding countryside then approached my brother asking if we were already in the path of Totality and when he confirmed this was indeed the case I flung my arms wide and said, “Why not here?  There’s not a cloud in the sky.  We’ll have services like restrooms and drinking fountains and a nuclear power museum to amuse us while we wait.  If you look to the east you’ll see some folk have already set up.”  We stayed.

Observing a Total Eclipse is a two step process.  First is general location (see travel story above).  Second is precise location and in my particular case I didn’t want large obstructions impeding my view so I walked to the museum grounds edge denoted by the red arrow allowing me to look westward as well as eastward:
The niece snapped a picture of me spying the obscured sun from my chosen spot:

As the images show there were not only no trees at our location, there were no nearby mountains either save sporadic ones popping up here and there on distant horizons.

The eclipse itself was long build up to brutally short Totality followed by equally long denouement:

Going left to right is exactly how things appeared.  Each yellow iteration is derived by peering through your direct solar viewing pitch black safety shades while the sweet spot in the center when the moon entirely obstructs the sun is shades off direct viewing of the sun’s mesmerizing corona.  We had about two minutes of direct viewing.  It felt like 15 seconds.  I was dead silent soaking up all that I could.  Disjointed thoughts follow.

The corona prances beguilingly.  While still pictures can’t capture the dance, this googled image comes close:
It reveals the last few moments of direct viewing before direct light from the sun closes the opportunity to see the corona.  I didn’t observe the tinge of red this picture displays around that bright spot where sunlight’s return was hauling back to punch me in the face.  All I ever saw was brilliant white corona ballet.

I had hoped to observe the eclipse shadow racing towards us but our location didn’t enable that.  Perhaps you have to be on mountain top to see that.  It was darker to the west as Totality approached but there was no district line.  Rather, it looked much like an approaching thunder storm.

It didn’t grow as dark as I expected.  During buildup to Totality you couldn’t tell anything was afoot until the moon reduced the sun to mere sliver.  Upon reaching that point it didn’t quite feel like sundown as it was neither brighter to the west nor darker to the east.  Instead, things everywhere began to brown out.  During Totality I could only see one star/planet – Venus.  Standing in the middle of sizable plain, I could see to distant horizon meaning I could also see to the edge Totality’s shadow.  It looked much like sundown moments after the sun has dropped out of sight but it’s purple hue lingers only in this case that purple hue was equally present in all directions – a 360° sunset.

I’d been primed to listen for confused wildlife but no coyotes howled at the moon’s dark work and with no trees about there were no chirping birds to suddenly go hush.  Even the crickets inhabiting our high desert location remained silent.

The temperature dropped precipitously from a late morning 75° to near 60° beginning at sliver of sun and remaining in that cooled state until sun’s half return post Totality.  I imagine being in high desert amplified this effect.  Desert air, being low humidity, doesn’t retain heat.  Save duration, eclipse would be little different than night.  We ate the lunch we’d brought as things warmed up occasionally peering through our shades to track the moon’s progression away from sun obstruction.

The Return Home featured two hundred miles of horrifying traffic but I was in no rush so it mattered not to me though I did have to dodge a local television news crew hoping to interview returnees about the snarl while I filled up my gas tank in Brigham City.  I noted several small town freeway overpasses featured locals watching the miles long line of vehicles proceed southward as we sightseers shifted from watching the show to being the show.

The experience didn’t change my life but I found it well worth the trouble and should I still be around in 2045 I’ll step out to catch that Total Eclipse too.  Fortunately for me, I’ll already live at the edge of Totality.  It won’t take much stepping for an old man.