I was lucky enough to visit America in April. It had been a long planned trip - since 2017, the previous complete solar eclipse.

Our friend identified several possible locations depending on the precise weather conditions of the day. On the morning of the eclipse the clouds had all gone on holiday so we chose our site in a large country park with a huge lake and a spit of land almost bisecting it. A perfect position. The park had limited the number of visitors to its parking capacity. Most parking spots were at ‘The Beach’, leaving fewer people to park elsewhere and walk along our path. We shared a wonderful spot beside the lake with a couple of dozen equally keen people and spent a wonderful day there.

As the eclipse approached it gets chilly. The birds call to each other to group safely on the ground or water during this weird phenomenon. We donned our special glasses till it was safe to remove them and gaze at the covered sun in all its glory. My eyes are wet with the glory of the universe. It truly is awe inspiring. Everyone is quiet, revelling in the moment. When the four minutes of totality elapse we put the glasses back on to watch the sun reveal itself once more, feel the warmth on our arms again. We gradually return to normality, pack up our picnic and stroll back to the car.

A few days later a friend and I drive to Grand Canyon. I have wanted to visit this site since I was eighteen, so just a forty four year wait. We arrive just in time to get to the rim to view the sunset. Tears in my eyes again at another awesome sight. No photo can capture the vastness of this place, it has beauty and magnificence. The next day we hike part way down the valley, each turn reveals more astounding rock formations that take my breath away. 

The following morning, my body clock still messed up with jet lag, I awake unreasonably early and go towards the trail head - but I have to stop as four baby elk cross my path. I whisper “It’s OK Elkie, take your time”. After a couple of minutes I am quite sure the lead elk says “I’m off now, see you soon, Susannah” and they trot along on their way. I start down the trail and am convinced I have found the perfect dawn spot. The time passes and I see the valley get lighter but no real dawn. I carry on down the path till the fencing prevents further access (closed for maintenance). With three other strangers I quietly observe the scene of the gradually revealed formations. Then, twenty minutes after the official dawn, the sun comes over the ridge and we have our own private dawn as we close our eyes and hold our bodies out to the sun. It was perfect.

In one week I experienced two instances of awesomeness. How fortunate.

What has taken your breath away?

Susannah

A Moodscope member