Eclipse '99 By Adrian Mars and Rupert  Goodwins

Adrian Mars's: home page

We're not  exactly sure when first we heard, but it came to our attention recently  that the sun was going to go out. As scientifically trained experts, we  took immediate action. However, just as we were preparing to sacrifice the  third goat Adrian looked up from Patrick Moore's Guide To Very Big And  Very Far-Away Sky Things and said "Hold on a mo -- it'll come back on  again. It's just the moon getting in the way." And so the goat was spared:  we made our way back to Eclipse HQ (Adrian's flat) to plan the best way of  enjoying this unique once-in-a-lifetime event (that actually happens every  eighteen months or so, but rarely over journalists). Over some fine wine and several nights, we discovered many pertinent  facts. Although the eclipse would be visible from Cornwall to India, the  bill for the goats (and the compensation claim from the farmer, his  daughter, the local vicar and the JCB hire company -- hey, who said you  had to use a knife?) meant that we could only afford Penzance or Normandy.  We chose Normandy, as the wine's better, the weather's better, the food's  better and the language they speak is far closer to English. We also found  out that none of us could plan further ahead than the end of a sentence,  so we decided to put on backpacks, get on the ferry and... well, that was  about it. And so it came to pass that Rupert  Goodwins, Adrian Mars and Chris Clarke met at Waterloo Station on  August 10th. Around 2 hours later we were heading for Le Havre via  P&O's Pride of LeHavre. Given the total unremarkableness of  this ferry and the exorbitant prices for food and drink, currency exchange  and video games it seems unlikely LeHavre has a very good self-image. It was here that we reflected on the minor detail of where  to stay for the night. Being August all France is holidaying - and most  them had already headed for the narrow zone of  totality. All the  campsites were full. It was going to be dark when we arrived. We had no  transport and no maps worth a fig -- but hey, we had two GPS satellite  navigation systems between us and hearts full of joy... now all we needed  was a miracle. We needn't have worried -- as Alec Guinness said to Mark  Hammill, all we had to do was use the force. In our case, being nerds, the  force commanded us to hang around the gadget rack of the ferry's duty free  shop. A man with a Winnebago is bound to to come along shortly, we mused.  In support of of this hypothesis Rupert soon spotted Telecoms  consultant (and fully-licenced meganerd) , Bill Pechey , his wife (also consultant  and fully-licenced meganerd) Doreen and his sister in law, the  frankly sane Edna. Moreover, they were going to see the eclipse. Moreover  moreover, they were travelling in an enormous mobile palace, the  aforementioned Winnebago, with plenty of room for three extra  ne'erdowells. After the traditional geek greeting ceremony (Bill got out  his GPS and compared it to ours) over a few drinks in the ferry's bar, we  cobbled together A Plan. Later we arrived in Le Havre, France - decidedly  relaxed. as darkness descended.

Heading north  into the 2 minute zone of totality the monster Winnebago scraped its  way through Normandy's often narrow streets - some a bit wider by  the time we'd passed. The image (left) shows the back of Bill's head, Rupert, Chris and the back of Edna's  head, and a bottle of Calvados (frightened French populace fleeing  oncoming city-on-wheels not pictured).

Eventually we found a lay-by on a quiet road. We, (Rupert  Adrian and Chris) pitched our tents next to the Winnebago,  carefully hidden from the local gendamerie, and prepared to wake up to an  eclipse. Next morning: disaster! Solid cloud. Would the Cornish have  the last laugh? Things looked pretty grim - but an hour before totality  the sky cleared. We got out the viewers and watched the sun slowly slide  from view from the very first little Pacman nibble to... oh no! Five  minutes before totality, a monster cloud (clearly marked A Present From  Newquay) headed for the sun.

	Rupert, Edna,  Bill, Chris and Winniebego . Note  dazzling blue sky. Note its position behind Winnebago, not in front where  the sun is. Notehopeful stance of  observers.

< Just in  case you doubted Adrian otherwise behind the camera, was  there.

	What was an empty  road soon filled up with parties of French and Germans. A quiet country  road (near Bordeaux Saint Marie, pop pickers) became an impromptu  Eurovision spectacular.

These pictures  were taken with a Kodak DC200 digital camera with a mylar eclipse  viewer stuck over the lens.

As the sun  became a crescent the pinhole effect of tree folliage projects  dozens of small crescents onto the grass.

	The darkness was  strange, low light but because the sun was high in the sky it cast sharp  short shadows quite different from dawn and dusk.

As totality arrived  and we practiced our German and French swearwords, a hole in the cloud  appeared! Hurrah! We missed the diamond ring effect but the two minutes of  totality were visible. It felt more like 10 seconds, of course, but  Bailey's Beads and the corona all appeared as advertised. We whooped and  cheered with excitement, to the mild bemusement of the other Europeans.  Score one against the English sang-froid, eh? A fabulous spectacle.  Figuring there would be far better gear than ours pointing at it we didn't  spend the precious two minute photographing it but a splendid set of of  images can be found at the UK Eclipse Group's Web  Site and even  better ones at Comet Track. After a simple but tasty lunch kindly supplied by Bill, Doreen and Edna we drove off to be  dropped took us off to Fecamp before Bill and Crew headed for planned  meeting with friends. Alas Fecamp was full, we were turned back a by a  roadblock we turned round and he dropped off at some unmarked SNCF buses -  Fecamp we enquired? Oui, said the driver. And it's free. Once again, our  total lack of planning merely proves to be a conduit into which Lady Luck  liberally poured her bathwater of blessing. We walked to the campsite, figuring post-eclipse it would be emptying.  It wasn't. Those crafty Fecampoise were having a three-day festival. "Full  - nothing I can do" said the woman in charge, very firmly. We prepared for  a taxi ride to the next town - but after lurking in friendly way she  suddenly relented as a "special exception". It was lovely council run  campsite overlooking the sea had with free showers for a mere £5 for three  tents per night.

Chris and Rupert's tents.

And looking the  other way; Fecamp's  cliffs.

That evening we  feasted on the finest Fruits de Mer that Fecamp had to offer. Essentially  it gives the the impression of being whatever is left in a trawlers nets  being chucked in the pan, cooked and dumped on a huge platter complete  with seaweed. Tasty even if you do have to work rather hard to extract  flesh from shells. As is traditional, the wine was splendid and the  waiters rude and inefficient in a truly world-class fashion. Vive la  France! After a night of wibble fuelled by Calvados and Normandy cider we woke  and after a fine breakfast (admittedly eaten at lunchtime) we headed back  to Britain. Lady Luck still had a few drops left in her faceflannel, and  we successfully negotiated bus, ferry, train and Underground with  frightening efficiency.

< Our route  as plotted by GPS is shown in red.... ...and below it  a more  detailed  view.

	Our  profuse thanks to Bill, Doreen and Edna for  their  hospitality, transport and jolliness. Adrian Mars's: home page

	(c) 1999. All pictures were  taken on a  Kodak DC200  Digital Camera