I saw the total eclipse of the sun from John Day, Oregon.
Two months earlier, I decided to go to Oregon for the eclipse, but wanting to avoid crowds, I ruled out Interstate 5, as it was close to heavy population areas. I considered Madras, near the center of the path of totality, only to find many people had already made their travel plans. Checking travel websites on July 11, I found the nearest available hotel rooms for August 20 were in Bend, 43 miles south of Madras and outside the path of totality - one room went for $487, the other for $1500. That took Madras off my list. I zeroed in on the small town of John Day in eastern Oregon.
News reports in the days leading up to the eclipse warned of heavy traffic and gas shortages. My research showed the nearest gas station from John Day on my route was in Burns, some 70 miles away. Before Burns, gas was available in Lakeview, 145 miles away. I would be traveling through remote and desolate country. Burns out of gas meant John Day out of gas, and I could not drive to John Day and expect to reach Lakeview before running out of gas. Also, I had no idea where I would be staying once I reached John Day. I had never been to this part of Oregon. I envisioned pulling off the side of the road and sleeping in the bed of my truck.
In the darkness of the morning of August 20 I commenced my journey, ascending the Sierra Nevada to Donner Summit, elevation 7227 feet, and thence down into Truckee, and onward to Reno, where I took Highway 395 north. Other than in Reno, I saw little traffic. I entered California at 4:56 AM. Fifteen minutes later there was just enough light to the east for me to make out the hills. I got gas in Susanville. From here the towns would be small and few and far between. Litchfield, population 26 - next services 70 miles. Termo, population 66. Sometimes an oncoming vehicle passed me, but mostly I had the road to myself. I crested a ridge at 5000 feet and looked out on the magnificent expanse of a valley. Entering Modoc County. Entering Likely, population 99. A remote area. The US Army fought the Modocs near here in the early 1870s, in the only campaign of the Indian wars where an Army general, Edward Canby, was killed. Gas in Alturas. Eighteen miles south of Lakeview, some eight northbound vehicles were in a line perhaps a half-mile long, a number that seemed large for these parts. The World War I Veterans Highway commenced at the Oregon border. Gas in Lakeview. Oregon law prohibits vehicle operators from pumping their own gas. I asked the attendant about the availability of gas to John Day. She said not to worry, there was plenty of gas. The road wound along the base of Abert Rim, one of the highest fault scarps in the United States, 2490 feet from rim to valley floor. Then came a stretch of some 60 miles through lava flows, fault escarpments, and sagebrush. A right turn at Riley, one last fill up in Hines (next to Burns), and then it was on to John Day. Still, little traffic. The town of Seneca was on the edge of the path of totality. Wherever I would spend the night, from this point on I would see the total eclipse.
Arriving at John Day, I saw several tents pitched in the athletic field of Grant Union Junior/Senior High School. The school was selling campsites chalked out on a grid on the grass for $100 cash. Those choosing to sleep in their vehicles in the school parking lot were charged $75 cash. Showers and bathrooms were included in the price. This was where I would spend the night, and I gladly paid the $100, knowing it was going to the high school, a good cause. It would be a long time before John Day had another total eclipse, so the school should of course take advantage of this opportunity.
I walked one-half mile to downtown John Day. Incoming traffic was far lighter than what I had expected. A few vendors were selling eclipse-themed items. I ate dinner at the Grubsteak Mining Company restaurant. Returning to the high school, I listened to Dr. James Pesavento's talk on the eclipse. I missed the first thirty minutes, where he covered the scientific aspects, but I heard his discussion of safety. Then came, for me at least, the most important take-away: if this is your first total eclipse, when it arrives, put your camera down and enjoy the experience, for no photograph can capture what is seen with the naked eye.
I awoke at 5:45 AM from a good sleep. The field had filled with tents during the night. Vehicles were still coming to town. Most campers were up and about by seven. I struck my tent and loaded my truck. By 8:30 people were starting to assemble. Some seven telescopes were set up. I talked with various people, most of them Californians.
The eclipse started at 9:08. People occasionally glanced at the sun through their safety glasses. Conversations continued and people walked about. The light still appeared normal so there was not much change in the crowd's behavior.
Minutes before the 10:22 start of the total eclipse, the light began to change, and people began paying attention.
When the total eclipse arrived, we could view the sun and moon without eye protection.
For a little over two minutes, I saw a black ball enveloped by a ring of light, with rays shooting into a dark blue sky. I saw one star - or was it a planet? The temperature dropped. Street lights came on. The crowd gasped, clapped, cheered, and laughed.
And then a bead of light showed itself, signaling the viewers to put on protective glasses. The crowd cheered as the shadows reappeared.
And that was it, the Great Total Eclipse of 2017. People said their goodbyes and prepared to leave. I was on the road within fifteen minutes. Many of us had a long drive ahead of us.
I let my GPS select the route home, and from Burns it took me to Winnemucca. There was a line of traffic to Interstate 80, particularly after we met up with the Idaho and other eastern Oregon traffic coming down Highway 95, but things proceeded smoothly. I passed through Reno, climbed the Sierra, and came down into the Sacramento Valley, arriving home around 8:30 PM, just as the last of rays of sunlight shone to the west.
