Yes, that's right. With my very own camera I took these photos during the eclipse (you probably heard about it), capturing ... something. Something Big Government doesn't want you to know about. Or maybe Big Pharma. Or Big NASA, I don't know--someone.

 

 But they couldn't hide it during the eclipse, which, as you know, is when elephants riding the giant turtle that holds up the Earth come out to change the light bulb. Too many cameras these days, thanks to Big Kodak. In the end the conspirators shot themselves in the Big Foot.

 

 

The hidden planet Nemesis is revealed! Those blue dots are probably its moons, Neme and Sis.  

 

 

Or maybe not: The Earth has more than one Moon! And more than one sun, judging by the direction of their shadowed areas. This is one crowded solar system.

 

 

An out of control UFO! Probably piloted by Elon Musk, from his home planet, Nemesis. Or maybe it's bringing Elvis back, that would explain why its hips are gyrating.  

 

 

The Eye of Sauron! Tolkein was right! Or maybe it's Cthuklhu emerging. But I pick Sauron, which is easier to spell. 

So there you have it. We weren't just taking in a temporary totality too long: We were exposing the secrets Big Big didn't want you to know. And that's big.

 


 

Remember: Whether you're watching the sky or reading, pull the car over first.

 I didn't intend to take a lot of quality photos during the 2024 solar eclipse, for one simple reason: Lots of people would get much better pictures, so why worry?

At the entrance to Summit Lake State Park, which is--I don't know--in Central Indiana somewhere, we saw a car that advertised an owner who was really serious about the Search for ExtraTerrestrial Intelligence. I'll bet that entire luggage rack held camera equipment.

 

We parked right beside a guy who told us he drove here from Colorado, after first planning to see the eclipse in Texas. His instincts were right on: He barely missed hurricane force winds in his home state, and avoided driving into rainstorms down south. Above is his telescope/camera, which took a time lapse of the eclipse and set him back about five thousand bucks.

The cost of my camera? Well, take off a zero, for starters.

Then there was the family that set up on the other side of us:

I don't know where they were from, but they were also very nice folk who, despite having kids, clearly didn't lack spending money.

I experimented, and managed to get this photo pre-totality, by putting eclipse glasses over the lens. This worked only when I forgot to turn off the flash, for which I have no explanation.

I told you all that to explain why I'm very proud of this last photo. No, it's nowhere good as the more experienced photographers with more expensive setups, but honestly, I didn't expect to get this at all:


It wasn't about getting photos, not for us. It was about experiencing it. After seeing the one in 2017, we knew that if we got lucky and the weather broke out way, we were in for an unforgettable experience. We were right. Totality worth it.





 

Remember: The sky above is full of all sorts of amazing things, and only a few of them can hurt you.



 I'm a huge astronomy geek. The only way I could get more excited about the upcoming solar eclipse would be if it caused chocolate to fall from the sky.

Just the same, the fuss going on ahead of the April 8th event has passed the hubbub stage, and gone straight into a hullabaloo. I feel compelled to throw some water on the excitement ... and that may be close to literal, in this case.

In 2017 Emily and I drove from her father's house to a state park in Missouri to be in the path of the total eclipse. Even though it was in the middle of nowhere, a good crowd showed up on a very hot August day.

 

 

 

There's your first sign of trouble: August weather is different from April weather. In fact, the odds are it'll be cloudy on the 8th, and it's a short jump from there to rain. In one of my novels a character does a rain dance, but I'm not sure an anti-rain dance even exists.

In the path of totality it'll still be interesting even if it's cloudy. Well, probably: I've only been to one total eclipse, and up until the moment it disappeared the Sun was ripping off our skin.

 

https://cms.accuweather.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/2024-eclipse-cloud-climatology.jpg
 
Now, I've witnessed several partial eclipses, and they're pretty cool even if you have to look at them through dark glasses. It turns twilight, and sometimes you can see the shape of the eclipse on the ground, focused through tree branches.

 

But they're nothing like a total eclipse. Nothing. A total eclipse is literally breathtaking. Nature seems to stand still, the wind dies, stars and planets come out. For an brief, incredible moment as the Moon completely covers the Sun, you can look directly at it.

The problem is, the area of the total eclipse is just a hundred miles or so wide.

 

I haven't heard that talked about a lot, and I'm afraid people not directly in the path are going to be disappointed. Where I live and in the closest city, Fort Wayne, the Sun will be over 90% covered, but not totally. It will NOT be safe at any time to look at the Sun without special protection. It'll still be cool if you're into that kind of thing, as I am.

But we're driving south, to be in the path of totality. It's a long wait for a short event, but it's worth the wait. Besides, it's just as likely to be cloudy here as there. That's the reason why officials are so worried about traffic on eclipse day, especially right after totality: People crowding into that 100 mile long strip, then heading for home.

In 2017 that wasn't a problem for Emily and me: We got there early, and afterward we hit the park trails for a few hours, until the traffic had cleared some. That's our plan this time, too. We'll have a full tank of gas, snacks, fluids, cell phones and their chargers, a few issues of "Writer's Digest", and some print books, too. Hopefully we'll find a place near a bathroom.

 

So there are your dual problems: Anyone from around here and in many other places will have to travel to see the full eclipse, and even those who don't are likely to find their view spoiled by typical Midwest spring weather. Add the expected traffic jam for an event that will climax over a period of about four minutes, and you could be forgiven for staying where you are and watching most of the sun disappear through eclipse glasses.

But us? We can't wait.

 

 

 



Remember, reading books is way safer than staring into the sun ... depending on which book.
It was one of my earliest memories.

Six days earlier, I turned seven. It was one heck of a birthday present.

Human beings landing on the surface of another heavenly body. It's hard to remember, fifty years after, just how remarkable that was. In 1969 it had been only twelve years since anything made by humans was launched into orbit, let alone 300,000 miles further on to the Moon.Only eight years before (fourteen months before my birth), the first American was shot into space.

It was all new.

I remember it being taller.

Cars were being designed with rocketship-like fins on them. Star Trek and Lost in Space were on TV. (My very earliest memory is hiding behind my mother while she ironed clothes and watched a particularly scary scene from Star Trek.) My Christmas gifts? Action figures from the Matt Mason astronaut collection, and a complete Apollo rocket that, with a click, shot the Apollo capsule into the air.

We were space nuts because space was, perhaps literally, the future.

Or so we thought.

"I'm Matt Mason, and I"m bendy!"
 I remember one aunt claiming that the Moon landings never really happened. Yes, that was a thing even back then. The rest of us sat transfixed in front of our television sets, which themselves were the size of an Apollo capsule, and similarly colorless. We watched the launches, the landings, the splashdowns, even the retrieval as helicopters set the capsules down on the deck of a handy aircraft carrier.

One day our teacher brought a portable TV into the classroom--by portable, I mean it could be picked up by one person, assuming that one person had been working out. She adjusted the rabbit ears until a kinda-sorta picture came on, and we sat silently, watching one of the Apollo capsules splash down in the Pacific.

Thanks to Dee Williams, who gave me these as a reminder of the kitchen's piece of Apollo.


It was an early experiment in bringing technology into the classroom, and it sure worked for us ... although I wouldn't see a TV in class again until high school.

Oddly enough, I have no memory of the Apollo 13 crisis, and I wonder now if my parents didn't keep the news from me. Maybe they figured, correctly, that I had anxieties of my own without learning that my real life heroes were only human, after all. But otherwise, I was all about space.

Just to be clear, this is the real thing.
Can it really have been fifty years?

What the hell happened? We were supposed to be on Mars by now. Where's the Moonbase? Why isn't Southwest Airlines booking cheap flights to a space station? Where the heck are the ray guns, and the communicators?

Well, okay, never mind the communicator.

I was supposed to be up there, dammit. During winter I'd tie the hood of my coat tight around my face, and pretend I was in a spacesuit. Granted that space is warmer than Indiana winters of my youth, but still.

I'm what people call a fiscal conservative. I don't think any government should spend beyond their means, and I'm very much against throwing money around just because you can print more. Heaven knows manned space exploration is almost as expensive as a presidential election campaign.

But this is one area in which we should be spending more.

"That's one small step for half a billion ..."
The advantages of space exploration are enormous. Big enough to justify the expense, with all the other problems in the world? I would argue yes, but not just the missions themselves. It requires an investment in science, and that requires an investment in people: education, interest, employment. Discoveries that will lead to another wave of innovation and invention. Imagine the materials, knowledge, and technology that came out of the Apollo era, and imagine that continuing on, with a new generation.

A new generation. I think one of the problems with the world today is that we've lost our love of discovery just for the sake of discovery. Yes, exploration can bring us that new technology, those new jobs, maybe solutions to today's problems. But more important than that, it's time to make kids wonder again.

We need to be able to sit our kids in front of the TV again, and let them see real wonders, going on right before their eyes. Well, maybe not TV; maybe online, or on their phones, or visors, or their cyber-optic implants. Mankind has always thrilled in that exploration, that discovery. Reestablishing manned space exploration--preferably as a species, rather than as a country--might be just what it takes to get us moving forward as a people again.

Okay, so maybe it's too late for me to go up there. But I have grandchildren, now. And maybe, fifty years from now, people will be telling the story of when they landed ... somewhere.
 

I took a few photos when we were in Missouri to see the total eclipse, and I thought I'd pass some on. Not of the eclipse itself--the video I posted a few days ago is about the best I could do with that.

 

We were at the Meramec State Park near Sullivan, Missouri. You can learn more about it here:

http://www.meramecpark.com/

 

I've been describing it as central Missouri, but it's only about 60 miles from St. Louis, so it's really more east central Missouri. It has rugged hiking trails, caves, zero cell phone reception (which is both a good and bad thing), and it edges the Meramec River, so there's the swimming and boating thing. A really nice place that we're hoping to visit again something, a couple of hours from Emily's parents' house.

 

More about the park later--I have lots of pictures. But I didn't have the best camera there:

 

 

There was a good crowd, and we were thankful to have headed there in the wee hours of the morning, even though the roads there and the park itself were both pretty out of the way.

 

The park had a big awning up with activities and information, and even a board where visitors could show they were there:

 

As cool as the partial eclipse was, the wait for totality seemed to take forever, especially with the temperature hovering at around a million degrees while we stood in the sun and stared upward. Did I complain? I did not, having been convinced for weeks that it would be cloudy that day, wherever we were. The good thing about being a pessimist is that you're never disappointed.

 

 

Some of us were more relaxed than others:

Considering how much my neck hurt the next day, he has a point. But considering how little he moved throughout the lead-up to totality, I wonder how sunburned he got--we kept ducking back under the trees--and whether his eyes were sore later. At least he brought enough cigarettes.

 

As the eclipse advanced, we began to see a curious effect that's common with partial eclipses. The vanishing sun continued to shine through the trees, which produced a pinhole effect that allowed us to see the eclipse on the ground below:

 

As it grew darker, a dog that belonged to people nearby dragged his blanket out, pulled it into a circle, and got ready for bed. He was very confused when nap time ended so quickly.

 

And then: totality.

Yeah, that's totality. It's just that my camera couldn't handle it. Here's Venus coming out, beside a jet contrail:

Seeing some of the other cameras set up there, I'll bet there are a whole bunch of much better pictures. I took a few and then put the camera down. Emily and I just stood there with our arms around each other, taking it in. I've said it before: Even the best photographs, with the best cameras, don't begin to do a total eclipse justice. There's nothing like seeing it with your own eyes. And, although we certainly had ups and downs on that trip--it was totality worth it.

 

A lousy video, but what I thought you'd be interested in is the reaction of the crowd:

http://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2017/08/a-video-of-eclipse-no-really-video-of.html

I'll have more about the eclipse and the trip, which got complicated and was very much good news/bad news, later. There was often little or no internet where we were, so I'm playing catch up, but I can tell you this: That 1,400 mile drive was totally worth it.
By now most people have probably figured out that an eclipse is coming this Monday, as it tends to do here in America every so often. Still, I'm not sure everyone's completely clear on all the details, so I thought I'd answer some common questions:

Q: Why does everybody have to scream at everyone about everything these days?

No, I mean about the eclipse. 

Q: What the heck is this thing? Is this some holdover from the 2012 Apocalypse?

This is a reasonable question, since we're still waiting for the 2012 Apocalypse. An eclipse simply happens when the shadow from one body passes over another body. For instance, one day I was lying on a beach when movie maker Michael Moore moved by. Moore blocked out the sun and ruined my tan, thus saving me from skin disease. (He refused to give me an autograph, just because I asked him when his totality would be over.)

That's Michael, in the middle. Not so very big after all.

Q: Huh?

Moore is rather portly, although I've been gaining on him. If you're a liberal, feel free to insert Trump's name. Oh, you mean "huh" about totality? That's the area of the Earth's surface that's completely covered by the Moon's shadow, usually only for a minute or so. During totality is the only time--and I mean ONLY time--when you can safely look directly at an eclipse without eye protection. Unfortunately, the area of totality is only about 70 miles wide. For example, in northeast Indiana the eclipse will cover about 86% of the sun, so go buy those glasses.

Q: What will happen if I look at it without protection?

Have you ever watched that episode of the TV show Supernatural, when the psychic gets to look at the true face of an angel? It's like that. Nothing left but smoking eye sockets. And yeah, that looks cool for a second, but only to everyone else.

It's perfectly safe to look at the eclipse during totality. But if even a sliver of sun is showing before or after, POOF! Seeing eye dog time. (Or, you could maintain some vision but have "just" permanent damage.)


Q: What's so important about this eclipse?

Well, it's cool, even more cool than smoking eye sockets. Also, it's rare in that, for the first time in almost a century, it will traverse the entire U.S. from coast to coast, over fourteen states. That's happened only 15 times in the last 150 years.

I can block my house from here!

There are between two and five eclipses every year, but a total solar eclipse only happens every 18 months or so. Not only that, but when they do happen it's often in a place where most people don't see it, like over an ocean, or the Pacific northwest. According to this mathematical guy from Belgian, any certain spot on Earth will see a total eclipse once every 375 years. That's an average, and it's math, so I'm just taking his word for it.

This is the first time in 38 years that a total eclipse was visible anywhere in the continuous U.S. For perspective, at the time Jimmy Carter was President, and gas was 86 cents a gallon. St. Louis, which is in the path this time, last saw totality in 1442, when gasoline was even cheaper. Chicago, which saw one in 1806 but will miss this one, will next see totality in 2205, when fueling your flying car might be very expensive.

Scientists have determined there are two small areas of the country--one in northeast Colorado, and one near Lewellen, Nebraska--that haven't seen a total eclipse in over a thousand years. Talk about bad luck.

Q: So I'm guaranteed to get a good show?

Oh, heck no. See above joke about the Pacific northwest; the 1979 total eclipse over that area was largely unseen due to clouds and rain.

This isn't a Hollywood movie: Any number of things could spoil it, from bad weather to having Michael Moore stand in front of you. But I wouldn't sweat Michael (can I call him Michael?) who I've heard is looking after his health much better these days. No, the big question will be whether weather cooperates. My wife and I are heading into the path of totality, and I can pretty much guarantee a day-long driving rain, or possibly a hurricane, will hit central Missouri at about that time.

What I probably won't see

 Q: What effects can we expect?
  
Fire and brimstone, dogs and cats sleeping together, total chaos, new super powers, pretty much the worst parts of the Bible. Wait, that was in the movies. Well, it'll get dark, 'cause--no sun. In the path of totality you'll see stars (or clouds), and you'll also be in for a rare treat of seeing the sun's atmosphere with the naked eye. One cool thing I noticed during a partial eclipse was that sunlight passing through the trees cast thousands of little crescent shaped shadows.

Some animals might be fooled into thinking it's twilight. In fact, eclipses have been known to thin out the local vampire population.

Geeks like me will geek out. People who don't understand, or don't care about, the difference between reality and Hollywood special effects might be disappointed.

Q: What are the greatest dangers?

As with many things in our modern society, the greatest danger might be driving. Officials expect major traffic jams as millions of people try to get into the path of totality. For those who don't make it on time or aren't expecting it, the danger is that they'll be driving down the road, trying to stare at the eclipse, only to ram someone who pulled over along the side of the road to watch the eclipse. Don't do either of those.

Otherwise, there's that smoking eye socket thing. Interestingly, during partial eclipses when the brightness doesn't seem too bad, infrared waves from the sun can still cause damage by overheating the eye, in a boiling egg kind of a way. Disturbed yet? Me, too.

Enjoy these eclipses while you can: The Moon's orbit is slowly getting larger, so the time will come when it will be too far away to completely cover the sun, meaning the end of total eclipses. Scientists predict this will happen in less than 600 million years, so go look while you still can.
The headline stopped me cold: "Seven Objects Found Circling Dwarf".

My first thought, as you might imagine, was: "Wait--I thought 'dwarf' was now an insulting, politically incorrect term, like 'midget', or 'calm political discussion'. Sure, you have dwarfs in online gaming, but that's a whole other thing. Have you ever tried to get an Orc to clean up his language?

"Excuse me, Mr. Orc, but the proper term is 'little people'. Wait--what are you doing with that double bladed ax? Help!"

Anyway, my second thought was, "Someone needs to help protect that poor dwarf from those seven--seven? I mean, not me--I have an appointment. My sciatica is acting up. Danger makes my ears bleed."

Turns out it was a red dwarf, which seemed even more insulting until I discovered that's a type of sun. This particular sun should be very familiar to Han Solo, who could reach it in twelve parsecs (that's how far away it is), but for the rest of us a parsec is a unit of distance: It would take several million years, even if we took an empty jug along instead of stopping for bathroom breaks. At 39 light years it's close, but that's in astronomical terms: It's like saying a government project is "only" a few million dollars.

For those of you who are Star Wars fans, I should add that this is a red sun we're talking about, named by the movie series' Admiral Ackbar: "It's a Trappist-1!" It's only a little star, slightly bigger than Jupiter and twelve times smaller than our own Sun. The truth is, red dwarfs are the most common types of stars in the galaxy, so in all ways it's unremarkable except one: We've discovered planets circling it.

Lots of planets.

Not only that, but most of the planets are around the size of our Earth. Not only that, but three of those planets are in the star's Goldilocks zone. And so, in the most stunning astronomical discovery ever, we can definitively announce that we've discovered planets inhabited by bears and little blonde girls. The worlds are thriving, and covered by porridge, making them just right.

Or maybe that's just a term astronomers use for a planet that's the perfect distance from its sun for life to exist: Not too hot, not too cold. Liquid water could exist there, which means you could, indeed, make porridge, although I prefer oatmeal. It's sweeter. At least, it is when I'm done with it.

Since Trappist-1 is so small it's very dim, like a 15 watt bulb, or a politician. (I never get tired of that ... even when everyone else does.) So to be in the Goldilocks zone, three of the planets whirl around very close to the sun, and to each other. The years are very short, the sun dim and red, and you could stand on one planet and see the others as plainly as we see our Moon. As a result there are probably a lot of tidal forces there, so you'd have no problem keeping your clothes clean. Really, it's like a paradise, except for the violent earthquakes and volcanoes that would come from the tidal forces, and I just realized they aren't talking about laundry detergent.

We don't know a lot about these planets, yet. What kind of atmosphere do they have? Is it like Montana, or Beijing? Is there water there? Considering how much water we've discovered across our own solar system, it's likely. And the best part is there are no gas giants, leading us to believe the entire system is devoid of both lawyers and Congressmen. (What? It's still funny.)

But regardless of that, this is still the largest number of planets we've yet seen around an exoplanet, which is to say a planet not circling our own Sun. It's like they're an outtie and we're an innie. And all of them close enough to Earth-size to make us sit up and consider the possibilities.

So, is there life? Bacteria? An ape civilization? Starbucks? Most important of all, do they have chocolate?

Or ... dare I say it ... something better than chocolate? Granted, seems unlikely.

Maybe we could send Han Solo to check.

ozma914: (Dorothy and the Wizard)
( Aug. 7th, 2015 03:57 pm)

An awe-inspiring look at the far side of the Moon:

 

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2015/08/150806-DSCOVR-EPIC-NOAA-NASA-GIF/

 

A spacecraft catches the Moon as it passes Earth, giving us a view of the mysterious far side.

ozma914: mustache Firefly (mustache)
( Jul. 31st, 2015 02:09 pm)

I’ve been away from the computer lately, for vacationy stuff. It was refreshing and usually fun, and we even managed to get out of the area for a week—not exactly a relaxing kind of a trip, as I’ll detail later.

 

Sometimes fun is sitting on a beach with a good book; sometimes fun is clamboring into caves and hiking to waterfalls while researching a good book. Don’t worry, there’ll be photos.

 

I’ve been neglecting my blog terribly, which isn’t a good thing for a working writer. Recently I read writers should put a “selling” post on their blog and social media only once every six posts or so. That makes sense: Why read someone when all they ever talk about is how often you should read them? By the way, you should read me often.

 

Sometimes it’s hard to control that: Such as earlier this month, when I had a book signing, and later next month, when I have a new book release as well as some appearances. But ordinarily I think it’s a good idea, if you want people to think your writing is entertaining, to write entertaining stuff.

 

I’d look just like Captain Obvious if I was just a bit slimmer.

 

Some blogging experts (can you get a degree in that?) believe your blog should be narrowly focused. If you’re a tree frog expert and keep your posts all about tree frogs, you’ll soon be followed by hundreds, if not thousands, of tree-frog entheusiasts, right? And whether you submit your book about tree frogs to a publisher or go independent, having a following of tree-frog lovers ready to buy your book is a huge advantage.

 

Makes sense.

 

But I’m a person of eclectic, if low-brow, tastes. I don’t have one obsession alone unless it’s writing, and if I write only about writing doesn’t that bring me back to the original problem? The only thing my interests really have in common is humor, and sometimes not that.

 

So here’s an idea: rotating through various subjects, in addition to talking about the writer’s life. Not necessarily on a specific day, but mixing it up so there’s something for everyone, and when appropriate loading some humor into it. Some possible topics include entertainment (Hey, I still watch some TV) and the possibly related book/movie reviews; emergency services (‘cause I’ve got that firefighter/911 dispatcher thing going on); photography (pictures make everything better); history (we’re releasing a humorous history book next year, which will make my third history related project); local/Indiana stuff; politics (if I can stomach it); and … I don’t know. What else?

 

So what do you think? As always I have to think about what will sell the most books, but above all I have to be funny, or entertaining … or maybe the word is interesting. It turns out a proper blog is a lot of work.

I’m not all that into birthdays anymore, except for the cake and ice cream part. The truth is, I wish people would celebrate my birthday by buying one (or more) of my books, giving them the gift and me the sales.

 

But this year, NASA is giving me the biggest birthday present ever: New Horizons is going to be the first (human) probe ever to reach Pluto, and its closest approach to the planet (yeah, I said it) will be on my birthday … although we won’t see the pictures until hours later.

 

http://www.space.com/topics/new-horizons/

 

As a guy whose earliest memory is watching the Apollo Moon landings, this does my space-loving heart good.

.

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