T: After hours of driving, with a couple of hitches along the way, we had made it to the Hampton Inn Norfolk (Neb.), and checked in. There wasn’t anything telling about us or where we were headed the next day. But the woman at the front desk already knew.
The usual small talk — here’s the breakfast, check-out time is 11:00 a.m., the elevators are this way — ended with her giving us a special one-page map and asked simple question:
“Where are you headed for the eclipse?”
Days of planning, staring at Google Maps, reading National Weather Service Forecast Discussions to break down the exact layout of forecasted high clouds and researching town after town along the path led us to answer, “…we’re thinking Ravenna.”
Truthfully, until that point we hadn’t really decided. But telling the front desk made it official.
. . .
E: We were just past Mankato, Minn., only about an hour and a half into our journey, when our Eclipse Trip hit a pothole. Well, technically, it was my car that hit the pothole.
We were less than 100 miles from home, and more than 270 miles from our hotel we had booked for that Sunday night in Norfolk, Neb., and a flat tire was the last thing we needed. Obviously we couldn’t drive all the way to Nebraska and back on a spare tire. From previous flat tire experiences (and difficulties getting the tire off the car with the impossible Pontiac G6 bolts) we opted to slowly drive the few miles or so back into Mankato and find the closest tire shop. The problem was, it was Sunday. Not many places are open on Sunday. And if they are, they aren’t open that late.
Thankfully, we found a Tires Plus shop open. By this point, it was probably about 1:30 p.m. or so, and the place closed at 4 p.m. The friendly person who greeted us mentioned it would be a few hours or so until they could look at the car.
No problem. We patiently waited in the lobby, catching up on House Hunters and Beachfront Bargain Hunt on the big TV. Eventually we got up to go for a walk over to the mall. We were wandering around Barnes and Noble when we received the dreaded phone call.
The tire wasn’t flat, but the front right rim was completely bent. They could get a new rim by Monday, but unfortunately we’d miss the total solar eclipse altogether if we waited that long. At that point, it was 4 p.m. We decided we would put the spare tire on my car, drive an hour and a half back to St. Paul, get Tim’s car, and then start the journey to Nebraska all over again. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only sure way we’d get to see the eclipse.
But when we walked back into the tire shop, they said we were all set and ready to go.
“Oh, you must have the wrong car,” we said. “Ours is the one with the bent rim, and we’d just like to put the spare tire on the car.”
“I was able to bend the rim back into place, and it seems to be working!” someone shouted from the back of the shop.
Good enough for us.
We rented a car in Sioux Falls as a last resort backup if the tire or rim didn’t actually hold up, and we were finally on our way again.
We took turns driving. As I drove through much of South Dakota, I think my eyes were more glued to the tire pressure gauge than they were to the road.
34, 33, 32, 33.
Small fluctuations, but it seemed to be doing just fine.
But when I did look up, I was pleasantly surprised at the beautiful surroundings. The sun was setting over miles and miles of rolling hills and farmland. The views were very similar to a beautiful North Dakota summer sunset — but with hills.
We arrived in Norfolk with four still-inflated tires around 10:30 p.m. or so — a little later than we had planned — but that was just fine. Norfolk was in a location where we could have driven to a number of different places to view the eclipse, depending on the weather. And also it had a Hampton. Gotta collect those Hilton points.
We woke up at the crack of dawn on Monday morning and drove about two and a half hours to Ravenna, Nebraska. A small, charming town in the middle of nowhere, directly in the path of totality — it was exactly as I had pictured it.
. . .
T: Chasing down the right place to see the total solar eclipse summoned my storm chasing skills from my mental attic.
Finding the intersection of convenience, the correct weather and the timing: all crucial for finding the tornado that could be out there. Today, we needed to find a place with the best chance of sunshine with a easy getaway route that required the least amount of total driving. That added an extra layer of excitement to this once-in-a-lifetime adventure.
The National Weather Service in Hastings, Neb., had been all over this total solar eclipse for weeks. In the aforementioned Forecast Discussions and weather graphics, the meteorologists were obsessed with providing eclipse watchers an exact idea of where the clouds were supposed to be, having long known that all of Nebraska would otherwise be free of precipitation.
Western Nebraska was going to be completely clear. Iowa was going to have a high thin blanket of clouds. Finding the spot in the middle where the clouds faded away was the key. Not wanting to drive all over the state of Nebraska — but still wanting a cloud-free view of the eclipse — was the objective, and thus we found ourselves in Ravenna.
Ravenna sits along Highway 2 in the central part of the state, less than an hour from Grand Island. Like other towns right in the path of totality, Ravenna was as ready as it could be for the masses of total solar eclipse chasers.
For decades, Ravenna was a layover point for crewmembers of BNSF and its predecessors. Conductors and engineers spent time and money in Ravenna year-round, keeping the economy there strong. But in the past six years or so the railroad tweaked its schedules and crews laid over elsewhere. That has put Ravenna in a tough spot — until Ravenna found itself in a great spot on August 21, 2017.
I’ve always been a sucker for small towns. The baseball field was the main grounds for viewing the eclipse that would be directly overhead. We parked our blanket and lawn chairs just outside the outfield fence and just hung out for a while, since we arrived a couple hours before the main event.
. . .
E: The town of Ravenna’s theme song is still playing in my head.
I’m not sure if they made it up just for the total solar eclipse, or if it’s been around for years. It’s sure catchy, though, and they played it over and over again for hours. I wish I would have recorded it.
Our 9:30 a.m. arrival was plenty early for a 1 p.m. eclipse, but we definitely were not the only ones already in place to catch the event.
We laid out a blanket, sat up our chairs and waited. The Eclipse Trip was a prime peoplewatching opportunity, and we also overheard some pretty interesting stories from those around us.
A group of people next to us had initially met each other at the total solar eclipse in 1970, and had met up again in Ravenna all these years later to watch another.
T: The total eclipse was one of the craziest, most surreal two minutes and thirty-five seconds of my life. I hate saying this to people, but you just have to experience one to get it.
At the beginning of the partial eclipse, we didn’t really notice much. We had our eclipse glasses and could begin to see a chunk of the sun disappearing from view, but for over an hour we didn’t notice much.
Then gradually it got darker. And darker. Shadows got dimmer and dimmer. The entire horizon started darkening, like a 360-degree sunset. An awed hush washed over the adults, children and dogs in the crowd as the last glimmer of sunlight disappeared from view. A gentle cool evening breeze washed over. And then…
. . .
E: I think it hit me when I heard the rooster crow.
Just like that, the earth became dark. The town fell completely silent. We looked up at the sky and witnessed the sun’s bright white corona shining around the moon. We took off our eclipse glasses and gazed up at the strange sight in the sky.
You can look at all the pictures you want, but nothing compares to experiencing a total solar eclipse in person — especially in the path of totality.
Suddenly, my skin was covered in goosebumps.
When everyone experienced that same moment of complete awe, the crowd erupted in cheers. For those two minutes and 35 seconds, we all stared up at the sky and etched what we saw into memory forever.
I’m always up for an adventure. But when we first started planning this trip, there were a few times when I wondered why we’d drive 1,000 miles round trip for a few moments of darkness.
Now I know why.
Oh, and immediately following the eclipse we took part in the world record number of people simultaneously going the moonwalk. No big deal.
. . .
T: In a word, those 155 seconds were life-changing.
There was a smattering of people in crowd who knew this experience, but in an instant, thousands and thousands of us encountered a momentous, surreal, cosmic event that we had never seen or fathomed before. There were elated cheers, gasps, hugs and tears — but mostly awestruck silence.
We took plenty of pictures and some video, but I knew I wanted to put down the phone and absorb everything. I kept looking at the horizons in every direction, the few stars and planets that appeared, and the sun itself. I wanted a mental image of everything. I didn’t want to miss a second of it.
. . .
E: Just as suddenly as it had begun, the total solar eclipse ended. The sun shone high in the sky, the rooster stopped crowing, and in an instant, hundreds of people packed up their blankets and chairs and walked back to their cars. Life was completely normal again, but just a few minutes earlier, it was bizarre and unfamiliar.
The drive back home was relatively uneventful. We got caught in a few huge thunderstorms (which was fun), stopped for supper in Sioux City and made it back home by midnight.
. . .
T: True to us, we already started planning for the 2024 eclipse on the drive home. It’s a little further away. But that will just make the hiccups along the way that much more interesting.
When we went: August 20-21, 2017
Where we stayed: Hampton Inn Norfolk
How long we stayed: One night.
What we wish we knew before we went: The experience in Ravenna was awesome, but unobstructed views of the horizon in all directions would have added another level of beauty.
