Yesterday was the eclipse. Here in Oregon, there was a large part of the state that was going to be in totality, so we decided to camp near it and head in the morning to a spot to see the big event.
We left at 530am Sunday morning in hopes of finding a camping spot, the news alarming as it forecasted doom and gloom in terms of traffic and over a million people traveling to the area of full totality. We made good time as the sun rose in its glory before our eyes, a rare sight for two non-morning people. Arriving in the Deschutes River Canyon area, we came upon the first camp site and found several spots available! We could not believe it. They were quite exposed to the sun, and this being in the desert, we decided to press on to the next to see if there were any shady spots. The next had several spots as well (where were all the people?!) and we found the most ideal spot under the canopy of trees right next to the river. I have to say, it was one of the most peaceful 24 hours I have had in I can’t remember when.
We set up chairs in the river with rocks as foot stools, so we could dip in occasionally to cool off. The river was rough across the way and smooth where we were, sounding much like an ocean. I vacillated between reading my book and staring off watching both the scenery before me and my thoughts. Occasionally birds of prey hunting a morsel of fish flew by, but otherwise, it was us and some bugs. Looking around the arid mountains, covered in what looked like a velvety covering of rocks and grasses memorized me, along with the river in its urgency flowing towards the Columbia. I recognized how busy life can get, even when you try to keep it reasonable. I soaked in the magnitude of quiet that enveloped me. I remember after Jesse and Bella died, I dreaded that quiet after being in a household that was vibrant with life. The quiet was a loud reminder of what I had lost. Now I need it. Living in the city, you are constantly bombarded by sounds of varying decibels. I have always been sonically sensitive, now magnified because of PTSD. The longer I am exposed, the more I feel my body tense in varying ways. I forgot. I generally do because I am not immersing myself in nature as much as I would like. Every time I do, there is this ancient muscle memory that gets stimulated for me to let go of all of those tensions that I acquire.
I sat there letting the fresh air soak into my body, the fresh water tickling my feet, the soothing sounds of the river taking away the thoughts from my over active mind, allowing me to be present in this space, and getting to share it with someone I love. As darkness fell and the stars made their appearance one by one, we both were astounded by the show before us. I sat there, mouth agape at the scope of what lay before my eyes, millions upon millions of stars, pondering the magnitude of it all. Generation upon generation has done this, and I sat there wondering the inspirations it infused. I let my eyes relax and could imagine connecting them to make the constellations. I sat in awe as I thought about the light I saw, and how long ago it started its journey. After three shooting stars passed, we went to bed.
The next morning, the sun rose and I thought, man, today you are a star (yeah, I know, it is always a star, bad joke). Millions upon millions of people were going to stop their busy lives and stare at the spectacle before them. I knew what to expect, but did not have any idea of pure awesomeness that actually happened. We got to a spot on a ridge with a panoramic view overlooking a valley and Mt Hood behind us. It was on the side of the road and many people joined as the time got closer. We fidgeted waiting, occasionally testing out our glasses with a quick glance. As the time came upon us we gasped as a small piece of the sun was obstructed by the moon. What passed over the next hour was something that moved me in ways that I could never anticipate. A glee not unlike one from a child discovering something new overcame me. An awe of this time and place that I existed right then and there observing this phenomenon was ever present. A connectedness to the people directly around us and the string that attaches us all in this thing called humanity that is often forgotten was apparent, as we all gasped and exclaimed with the changes happening before our eyes. As the moon approached the moment when it blocked out the sun, the air around us chilly, the light disappearing, we all held our breath, tears brimmed in my eyes then overflowing when totality occurred, goosebumps covering my whole body. There are no words that can even describe the amount of emotions, feeling and energy that coursed through my body during that time. I was in awe of our star the sun in its power to give us light, as the moon passed over and how fast it gave us that warmth and light that we so often take for granted. We drove away both giddy with what we just witnessed.
Upon arriving home, we unpacked and got into the rhythm of being back in civilization again, yet for me, I was different. We all have events that change us, I call them pivot points. Some are “good”, some are “bad”. I have had several over my life, Jesse and Bella dying being the biggest and most life altering. However, I have this top ten list of the most beautiful and inspiring things that I have ever encountered. Yesterday made that list. I hold within my heart, soul and memory this awe-inspiring event that I was so lucky to get to be apart of. For that, I am grateful to be living in this present moment to get to witness something so historic.
our campsite
the view
some more of the view
right before totality, the sky had an eerie light and all was quiet
totality