Solar Eclipse Report - Denial Bay (South Aust) - LONG
Bevan Harris
As garbled incoherently in my post "Solar Eclipse at Ceduna / Denial Bay
WOW!!" at 0059 (WAST) Friday morning, I'm back from my wildly successful
expedition to view my first total solar eclipse. It wasn't my first solar
eclipse however - that honour goes to the annular eclipse that swept across
Western Australia's Batavia Coast and Murchison regions back in February
1999 and is chronicled in "Ring of Fire" in the April / May 1999 issue of
Sky & Space. I doubt that I'll wax so eloquent in this account.
This post is in the form of a travelogue. If all you want to read is the
really good bit you can skip straight to THE GOOD BIT, but I suggest that
you read the post in its entirety. For reference, Western Australia is UT +
8 hours, South Australia (summer time) is UT + 10 1/2 hours. The entire
account will soon be posted on my (still) nascent website at
<http://users.bigpond.com/bmh> with whatever photos I have available (though
there will be none of the eclipse until I can beg them from more proficient
photographers than me.
I had hoped after my trip to Greenough for the annular eclipse back in '99
that my first total eclipse would be Africa in 2001. I knew that the
European eclipse in August of '99 was out of the question due to fiscal
reasons, but I had real hopes a winter solstice eclipse safari would be a
viable proposition. Alas, it was not to be - damned fiscal issues again!
The sunny side of these woes was that my first total solar eclipse was to be
in my home country - somewhat more poignant and an eminently more achievable
objective.
Once again my adventure was to be hosted by Perth Observatory
<http://www.wa.gov.au/perthobs>, but this time it was a gruelling 2000km
coach trip across Australia's inhospitable southern coastline to reach the
path of totality. The plan was simple - dash across the country to arrive a
few hours in advance of the eclipse, set up and watch the action, then
depart almost immediately on the return trip.
Workmates and friends thought I was nuts (to which I must conceded there is
a certain element of truth), but my resolve was simple - if there was an
eclipse in my country, I was behoven to attend. It would be bad luck if I
missed the eclipse because of clouds, but I couldn't complain if I missed
the eclipse through not being there.
Prior to departure, early weather reports were forecasting scattered cloud
along the entire Bight on the day - a nuisance, but apparently typical for
the time of year. Still, scattered cloud is better than broken or overcast,
so I felt positive about the prospects.
Tuesday Dec 3 - 0200UT
Having packed my kit, I left home for the 27km drive to Perth Observatory
where I was to join the coach prior to its official departure from the city.
About 10 staff and volunteers were boarding at the Observatory, ensuring
that all the equipment we needed was packed prior to taking on our
passengers. The coach arrived a little late, so we hastily stowed all the
gear and departed down the hill for the main rail terminal in East Perth
where were to meet a second coach and another 36 eclipse chasers.
Tuesday Dec 3 - 0500UT
We're finally on our way! Departure was scheduled for local noon (0400UT),
so we're already down by an hour in a timetable that leaves little room for
error. Although our party numbers only 46 in total, we're using two coaches
so that each person has two seats to themselves (or nearly so) to enable
them to stretch out a little on the arduous journey ahead. We climb up the
Darling Scarp as we head eastward along the Great Eastern Highway towards
our goal. Along the way we pass through the small hamlet of Bakers Hill
(75km from Perth), home of the famous Bakers Hill Pie Shop and location of
the inaugural Swan Star Party
<http://www.stargazers.iinet.net.au/stargaze.html> that is to be held next
May.
Tuesday Dec 3 - 0700UT
Our first "comfort stop" is the small wheatbelt town of Meckering, made
famous in WA when it put us on the earthquake map in October '68.
Meckering was mostly destroyed from the 6.9 magnitude quake, but fortunately
there were no injuries or loss of life. Still visible on the approach to
the town are the remains of the faultline that cut both the main rail line
and the highway heading east. We continue along the Great Eastern Highway
through wheatbelt country familiar to me from numerous commutes to and from
the gold region of Kalgoorlie-Boulder where I resided for a period of
several years in the late '80s. The parched landscape bears the scars from
the severe drought and encroaching salt that are currently plaguing many
farmers. Even the indigenous trees and vegetation are showing the stress
from lack of rain and grazing sheep raise plumes of dust as they trail
across the dry paddocks.
Tuesday Dec 3 - 1000UT
We pass through the town of Southern Cross shortly before a brief stop at
Yellowdine so that the lead coach can refuel. Southern Cross marks the
eastern limit of the agricultural area and from here on we will be
travelling through the arid semi-desert of the Goldfields. It was from
Southern Cross that prospectors headed further east in the 1890s to discover
the rich goldfields at Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie. On an astronomical note,
the town of Southern Cross was named after the constellation that guided
prospectors who first found gold in the region. The town's streets are
named after stars and constellations such as Antares Street, Polaris Street,
Altair Street and Orion Street to name but a few. Yellowdine consists
merely of just a small truck stop and a couple of ruins. We will shortly
pass through the "rabbit-proof" fence - the world's longest fence. The
rabbit-proof fence stretches for 2400 kilometres along the eastern boundary
of WA's agricultural area and is also the title of a recent movie (based on
a true story) <http://www.rabbitprooffence.com.au> about the injustices
faced by three young Aboriginal girls taken from their families in the early
'30s.
Tuesday Dec 3 - 1030UT
After leaving Yellowdine we continued eastwards towards the Eastern
Goldfields town of Coolgardie some 150km distant. Dusk is now gathering,
hiding from view the mostly featureless, semi-arid landscape that stretches
through much of the Goldfields region. A video (The HitchHikers Guide to
the Galaxy Vol I) is shown to while away the time. There are no towns to
pass through save Bullabulling, which consists of a single tavern, and we
pass through Coolgardie without stopping, but turn south instead of
travelling on to the rich goldmining centre of Kalgoorlie-Boulder lying just
over the horizon to the north-east. We pass the quaintly named Widgiemooltha
almost an hour after leaving the main highway. At last count I think
"Widgie" comprised of a tavern and three houses.
A feature of Coolgardie's main streets (as with those of many other
Goldfields towns, including Kalgoorlie and Boulder) is that they are very
broad - the reason for this is that an early form of transport during the
Goldrush days was bullock trains, which need the immensely wide streets so
they could turn around. Kalgoorlie is home to the world's richest square
mile of dirt - the aptly named "Golden Mile" - which has now become probably
the world's largest open-cut goldmine, a yawning chasm probably 5km long,
1.5km wide and 1000 feet deep.
Tuesday Dec 3 - 1345UT
We arrive in Norseman, the western end of the Eyre Highway, for decent meal
stop and to refuel the coaches. I use the opportunity to call my wife to
say "Goodnight". Ahead of us lies the arid underbelly of Australia, the
Nullarbor Plain, which for me is uncharted territory. We leave Norseman
probably a little more than two hours behind our original schedule and amid
concern that we are running short on time to reach Ceduna before the
eclipse. Consequently a planned one-hour stop by the side of the highway to
view the stars is cancelled, though we do pause for five minutes.to drink
the spectacularly vaulted, inky-black desert skies studded furiously with
glowing stars.
Norseman was named after a prospector's horse, which turned up a gold nugget
while pawing the ground. Not surprisingly, a statue of the horse pawing
furiously at the ground is in the main street.
Tuesday Dec 3 1845UT
The journey proceeds under the stunning canopy above, but coach is darkened
and most of my travelling companions are at least attempting to sleep. I'm
a poor sleeper while travelling, so I spend most of my time gazing at the
landscape slipping past like a spectre in the dark. I also see ominous dark
patches obscuring the sky to the south. Clouds! Dirty, filthy, coast
hugging clouds! I tense up a little, but it's still many hours and a more
than a thousand kilometres before Ceduna. It's a tense time for the drivers
also, as they must constantly be on the lookout for the kangaroos that live
in plague proportions along the plain, swerving or slowing for numerous and
through their skill only managing to hit two. At some time when peering down
the aisle and through the windscreen, I see the sign "Ninety Mile Straight -
Australia's Longest Section of Straight Road" - and so begins an hour and a
half of dead straight driving. I'm glad it's them. Eventually I can see a
bend in the glow from the headlamps, but we slow down and turn off - it's
Caiguna. We rouse from our seats and stumble into the roadhouse while the
coaches drink their fill. In the east we can see Venus climbing high in the
sky, indicating that the Sun is not far off, almost an hour earlier than in
Perth.
Tuesday Dec 3 2245UT
Eucla looms on the horizon. Since just after leaving Caiguna we could see
the south east horizon gradually lightening and revealing a bleak landscape
around us. There is momentary surprise when we crest Madura Pass and are
greeted with a panoramic view over the escarpment onto the coastal plain.
We descend onto the plain and now have on our left side the ancient sea
cliffs of the escarpment. Mile after mile (kilometre after kilometre) rolls
by until eventually the engine note changes and we climb back over the scarp
at Eucla Pass and into the small township of Eucla. With an entire third of
the continent behind us we've finally reached Western Australia's gateway on
the Nullarbor - and breakfast. Just twelve kilometres further on, at 129
degrees East Longitude lies the WA/SA border. Shortly after we arrived at
Eucla, I spy a white 4WD in the carpark. I'm attracted by the colourful
signage on the side "Astro Tours of the Kimberley"
<http://www.astrotours.net/> . It's Greg Quicke from Broome - I've not met
him before, but I'm well aware of his astronomical tourism business
operating in WA's far north and he is well known to Perth Observatory staff.
He must have already travelled 4000km since leaving home on his little road
trip! Sheeeshhh!
In its heydey Eucla was a crucial link in the Trans-Australia Telegraph
Line - the information superhighway of a century ago. Now the abandoned
station is almost swallowed in the rolling coastal dunes. The town is home
to fifty humans and forty three dogs.
Wednesday Dec 4 0200UT
We rolled the twelve remaining kilometres to the state border and into South
Australia. Just 500km to go!! The clocks wound forward 2 1/2 hours to
South Australian Pretend Time, more commonly referred to as Australian
Central Daylight Time. WA has consistently refused to adopt the practice of
so-called daylight saving or summer time (a decision I applaud), while the
southern states of New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia and Tasmania
have observed the practice for many years. Due to its more southerly
location, Tasmania actually begins summer time earlier and ends it later
than its mainland neighbours. Little realized however, is the fact that
areas neighbouring the state border of WA and SA observe their own personal
time zone (Border Bizarre Time or something) that simply splits the
difference between the two official time zones. Hence there is a part of
Western Australia that does observe the ritual of summer time, but only half
an hour. This local observance is therefore UT + 9 1/4 during the warmer
months and UT + 8 3/4 for the remainder of the year.
Shortly after crossing the border, we turned off the highway onto an off
road parking area to stand bravely on the doorstep of Australia, the
precipitous cliffs that line much of the Great Australian Bight. During the
months of May through October, these cliffs (and others along the coast)
offer the perfect vantage point to observe the breeding rituals of the
Southern Right Whale in the crystal clear waters below. We soon resumed our
journey along the Eyre Highway towards the eastern end of the Nullarbor
Plain, eventually stopping at the tiny settlement of Nullarbor. Here the
roadhouse proprietor keeps a light aircraft parked in the forecourt so that
passersby might be able to have an aerial view of the stunning coast line
and frolicking whales (in season).
Wednesday Dec 4 0430UT
The bleak inhospitality of the passing landscape was becoming even more
sapping as we rolled on for kilometre after kilometre. In stark contrast,
however, to the modern, sealed highway that enables airconditioned,
cushion-sprung coaches to cruise non-stop for hundreds of kilometres, the
original unsealed track that crossed the continent paralleled our path as we
fled eastwards. Gradually the scenery changed, giving way to scattered
trees, then a gentle, undulating landscape filled with dry woodland. We
passed Yalata at the head of the Bight and eventually began to see the first
of the outflung farms as we approached South Australia's arable regions.
Nundroo slipped past our windows and eventually we pulled into Penong for a
late lunch. We were now just 75km short of our target. Just to the south of
Penong on the coast lies Cactus Beach, one of Australia's best quality
surfing beaches.
The Eyre Highway as we know it today was only sealed in its entirety in
1970. Prior to this travellers had to endure a dusty gravelled road that
required constant grading to keep it in passable condition for all vehicles.
Occasionally the rusted wreck of a vehicle could be seen in its final
resting place, casualties of the hostile conditions that the unwary
traveller faced. In those days, for those who were sufficiently foolhardy or
adventurous in spirit to tackle a cross country journey, it was customary to
stock the family vehicle with beer to pay as a "toll" to the grader crews
whose job it was to work the road. Valuable information about road
conditions could be gained by stopping to yarn with the grader drivers over
a cold one and bring cheer to an otherwise lonesome, uncomfortable and
thankless task.
THE GOOD BIT
Wednesday Dec 4 0630UT
Finally we approach Ceduna. The clouds which we had been monitoring all day
were thickening in the sky and with it our spirits began to sink. Reports
obtained earlier indicated that the sky had been cloudy in Ceduna all day,
but that the persistent wind was expected to disperse them by days' end -
this seems not to be the case now. Perhaps a little despondently, we turned
off the highway and navigated to the small settlement of Denial Bay, located
across the water from the Ceduna townsite. Denial Bay - even the name
seemed appropriate somehow. We continued onto our prearranged destination
at an oyster farm near Matt's Landing and disembarked from our coaches. A
radio bulletin informed us that many people in Ceduna were packing their kit
and frantically heading north in a bid to outrun the cloud.
Wednesday Dec 4 0700UT
Our gear was half unpacked when a decision was made that we should move our
operation a little further across the headland towards Rocky Point as it was
felt that an intervening low hillock would interfere with any potential view
of the eclipse. The coaches were repacked and we headed gingerly along a
track and up the side of a freshly harvested barley field. The first,
slightly smaller coach was able to negotiate the treacherous ground, but the
second one that I was on became stuck fast halfway up the slope.
Exasperated, we dragged our kit out of the coach and were preparing to set
up where we were, but were persuaded to schlep that gear the last few
hundred metres to the crest where the rest of the party was ensconced.
Wednesday Dec 4 0730UT
The view was glorious!! We could see straight across Tourville Bay to Point
Peter and straight down the path of totality. Looking back down the slope
we could see the Ceduna townsite and the silos at Thevenard. We were barely
500 or perhaps 750 metres from the centerline. Our position was exposed and
somewhat breezy, but it must have been the best site in all of the Ceduna
region. With the appraisal out of the way, we hurriedly position ourselves
along the fenceline and busied ourselves with cameras, telescopes, filters
(only banned ones, of course) and the like.
Wednesday Dec 4 0800UT
We wait and watch the sky. The threatening clouds had, in the last
thirty minutes or so, begun breaking up and scattering and large clear
patches were becoming evident. I check my video camera, switch it on
and zoom in on the Sun. Okay - the focus is a little touchy, but it
settles in and I begin my commentary, stating the date of the eclipse and
describing my location. At 0810 the cry "First contact" is raised.
"Gentlemen and ladies, we have an eclipse" I say for the camera.
Periodically a cloud drifta over the Sun and cleara it again, which I
duly note in my commentary. I notice the focus is acting strangely,
confused by the filter perhaps, and twiddle, trying to fix it. Steadily
the Moon's silhouette encroaches further and further on the Sun's disk.
I leave the camera temporarily, pour myself a glass of Brown Brothers
Reserve Port and wander down to the Observatory's new toy - a Coronado
H-alpha refractor mounted on their custom projectorscope (this is a surplus
60mm refractor mounted on a pair of old Meade SCT forks and piggybacking a
largish finder equipped with a video camera). Glinting in the eerie half
light, the Coronado looks purposeful and very, very geeky. I love it! I
wait patiently in line, peer into the eyepiece at the sullen red image
and then quickly move away to give place for the next person. I didn't see
much
detail, but that can wait for another time as I would have plenty of
opportunity. There is an eclipse happening that isn't waiting, so I
hurry back to my camera.
Wednesday Dec 4 0800UT
The Sun is now just a glowing fingernail. I check the camera and resume
my commentary. The fingernail becomes the tiniest of slivers and begins to
disappear.
"Cloud" is the cry, but no, it is going to slip by beneath the Sun. The
sliver disappears. Quickly whipping the filter off the camera, I stare in
stunned amazement at where the Sun had been. All I can see is a black
hole in the sky surrounded by an unearthly glow. "God!" I yell,
struggling to find my voice "It's incredible.... It's incredible...." I
pause, drinking in the awesome vista, the Moon seemingly on fire. I wonder
how the ancients, the Incas, all those civilizations gone could have seen
this sight without losing their minds. Time stands still, then suddenly
"Diamond ring!!!!" I scream to the camera as I hastily slam on the
filter. The Sun bursts out from behind the Moon and I scrabble for my
(still banned) shades. The Moon gradually recedes and I turned to watch my
fellow observers break from their reverie.
We cheer, we shout, we hug for joy. I look down the slope towards the
fleeing shadow and can see a myriad of pin pricks of silver scattered across
the landscape on the other side of the bay as the emerging Sun glints off
thousands of solar filters. It seems they have almost the same line of
sight, so they should also have witnessed the full spectacle we had just
seen. Looking back to the sky I can now see the clouds racing in. As I
watch a curtain is drawn over the Sun and only crepuscular rays show where
the Sun had been scant moments before. The departing eclipse is snatched
from our eyes and we realise that today we have been blessed.
A fine '94 Cabernet Sauvignon materializes and we toast the incredible
success of our journey. Two thousand tortuous kilometres across some of the
world's most bleak and inhospitable landscapes have been melted into
insignificance by thirty two seconds of what is arguably nature's finest
spectacle.
Wednesday Dec 4 0930UT
While packing my gear I notice that the camera is no longer running. It
seems that the tape had run out just before totality and I remember my
wife's words before leaving home. "There's not much time left on that tape,
but there's a blank one in the bag." In my haste to set up I had forgotten
to load the fresh tape, but even this failure is unable to suppress my
euphoria. Long before, I had resolved that with only 32 seconds of totality
available I would not allow the complications introduced by any recording
equipment to dissuade me from enjoying the eclipse for myself. I chalk my
failed video attempt up to experience for the next eclipse.
We and our equipment are ferried back to the oyster farm in 4WDs where we
pack our equipment on the coaches, then adjourn to the main building. Tea,
coffee, wine and freshly shucked oysters help us to unwind before we embark
on our return journey.
Wednesday Dec 4 1030UT
The coaches roll through the now darkened settlement of Denial Bay and we
turn westwards onto the Eyre Highway for the long trip home. A hubbub of
excited conversation fills the coach and the 45 minute drive to Penong, meal
and showers quickly passes. The Penong pub resounds to the convivial
atmosphere as we reminisce our experiences of the day. Upon resuming our
journey the coach falls silent as two dozen exhausted eclipse chasers
slumber deeply and it seems barely minutes later that the coach captain
awakens us to announce that we have reached the WA/SA Border Village. In
fact more than four hours have passed. Here the coaches must refuel and we
must go through the formalities at the quarantine station (I call it
"Checkpoint Charlie") before re-entering WA. Australia and its various
states jealously guard their borders against agricultural and other pests,
so the coaches must be inspected for fruit, seeds, honey, soils and other
items that might spread disease and pests between agricultural areas. Even
though any fruit, etc. we have may have been purchased in WA, it must be
consumed or is confiscated. The rules are strict as the loss of billions of
dollars in produce are potentially at stake.
Wednesday Dec 4 1700UT
We cross back over the border into our home state - a scant 1500 kilometres
lie between us and Perth. Between the border and breakfast at Caiguna I
alternately watch the landscape slip by or try to sleep a little. We pass
Mundabilla, Madura and Cocklebiddy in the dark before finally easing to a
halt in the gathering light of dawn. During the night we only hit one roo,
but it was a big one. A big thump, followed by a big bump as the coaches
wheels climb over it. It jolts awake those who were sleeping. If at all
possible drivers avoid hitting kangaroos. Not only is it generally terminal
for the roo, but the coach risks serious damage to panels, lights and
mechanical components. At various times I had also seen the majestic
wedge-tailed eagle either roosting in a dead tree or gliding silently
overhead as it hunted early morning prey.
Mundrabilla is the centre of possibly the world's richest meteorite field
and the subject of attention by leading meteorite experts. The landscape is
so flat and uniform, that the dark colour of the extra terrestrial rock is a
dead giveaway against the indigenous sandstone that is like taking candy
from a child. Regular visitors to the area are Tom Smith, an astronomer at
Perth Observatory, and Alex Bevan from the Museum of Western Australia.
Both these institutions maintain holdings of material from the "Mundrabilla
Mass", with the collection at the Museum being one of the most extensive in
the world. Visitors to Perth Observatory are able to handle a 120kg piece
that rests on open display.
Cocklebiddy is renowned for its famous caves, a vast labyrinth hundreds of
metres underground that stretch for kilometres through limestone rock. The
enormous flooded underground caverns are a mecca for cave divers the world
over.
Wednesday Dec 4 2200UT
We depart Caiguna on the final section of our Nullarbor trek. Immediately
we are on the Ninety Mile Straight, but this time it is daylight. There is
one only word for this section of the trip - BORING. The boredom is
alleviated momentarily when we see two cyclists (one at Caiguna, the other a
few kilometres down the road) pedalling their laden bicycles steadily
eastwards. To think people have the hide to call us eclipse chasers crazy!
Perhaps serendipitously, our return journey is such that we see in daylight
what we travelled by night time on the way over - and vice versa for the
forward trip. Nonetheless there is only so much inspiration one can draw
from kilometre after kilometre (after kilometre (after kilometre (get the
gist...??))) of superb desolation and I try to sleep a little more.
Presently, one of our fellow travellers and Perth Observatory Volunteer,
Mike Freeman (who is a geologist by profession), begins a series of short
lectures on the geology of the terrain we are travelling over. He begins
explaining the concept of the geological year and then talks about the
morphology of areas we have already travelled, the Eucla Plain, Mundrabilla
and Cocklebiddy. Subsequent talks cover the Frazer Range and the greenstone
belt that stretches from south of Norseman through Kalgoorlie and to the
Northern Goldfields of Leonora and Laverton - the source of the region's
immense mineral wealth. The terrain changes slowly into saltpans and a
gently rolling, dry woodland and we finally arrive back in Norseman for
lunch and to refuel the coaches. We have crossed the Nullarbor twice in the
space of two days.
Thursday Dec 5 0300UT
Norseman is now behind us as we drive northward up the Coolgardie-Esperance
Highway. The road follows a causeway across Lake Cowan as Mike begins
another installment of his series of geology talks - this time about the
many salt lakes in the area and the causes of the salinity problems faced by
farmers nearer to the coast. In those areas, with the land denuded of
natural vegetation to enable cereal cropping, the fine balance between water
usage and replenishment has been destroyed, causing the water table to rise
to the surface and bringing the salts with it.
"HitchHikers Guide Vol II" is played on the video to help pass the time. We
pass through the former ghost town of Coolgardie, the streets lined with
signs about the buildings which once stood there, and embark once more on
the long, lonely stretch to Southern Cross. The surrounding countryside
changes periodically, sometimes dry the familiar dry woodland, but there are
also large patches of ugly, scrappy bushes that form a blot on the
landscape. The clouds, which had ebbed and flowed thoughout the day now
became ominous and threatening. Thirty eight kilometres short of Southern
Cross we stop again at Yellowdine for fuel and to take photos of the tour
group.
Thursday Dec 5 0700UT
Once more we enter Western Australia's parched wheatbelt region and the
experience the sweeping vistas across dry farmland. The sky glares at us
sullenly and a roiling dust storm can be seen approaching from the west.
"The Dish", a charming Australian movie about the role of the Parkes Radio
Telescope in the successful Apollo 11 mission to the Moon is put on the
video to watch, competing for our attention with unfolding drama outside.
Near the tiny hamlet of Bodallin (cheapest petrol between Perth and
Kalgoorlie) we see lightning crackle into the the dry fields alongside the
road, then suddenly the dust storm is upon us. The world turns an eerie,
angry yellow and visibility is snatched away. Steady rain starts to fall -
is this a mud storm??? We press on through through the storm, dividing our
time between "The Dish" and the rain and lightning outside. The movie is at
that section when they're trying to reacquire the Apollo 11 command module -
the Moon's phase is completely wrong. I know from memory and have confirmed
with Sky Map Pro and Virtual Moon Atlas that the Moon was only five days
old, but in the movie it is closer to thirteen. Still - it's a damn fine
movie.
The rain has mostly abated and there are low, breaking clouds in the sky.
With the lowering Sun the conditions are perfect for some spectacular
crepuscular rays, which soon break through the clouds in a stunning display.
Various folk, including the off-duty driver, take turns at the front of the
coach snapping photographs of the glorious spectacle. Gradually the display
fades, but the lightning intensifies in a new treat for our eyes. We watch
enthralled, counting the cadence of the storm as jagged lightning leapt
between earth and sky on either side of the coach, the display continuing
as we paused for our final stop at Meckering. In the roadhouse forecourt we
gathered for a few announcements and expressions of thanks to the
Observatory staff, Mike Freeman, the coach drivers and various others who
contributed to make the journey so memorable.
Thursday Dec 5 1100UT
We're rolling again - Mike Freeman gives a final talk about the Meckering
earthquake and the escarpment we call the Darling Range that overlooks our
home of Perth, the world's most isolated capital city. As we coast past
Northam, the starting point of American adventurer Steve Fossett's recent
record breaking around-the-world balloon flight, and descend through the
hills our thoughts turn to home and loved ones. Phones begin to ring as we
are gradually drawn back into our less extraordinary daily lives. The road
ahead turns to dual carriageway as the highway enters the hills suburbs
outside Perth, then we breast the edge of the escarpment at Greenmount. The
lights of Perth lay spread twinkling before us as we descend onto the
coastal plain.
Thursday Dec 5 1400UT
Finally we arrive back at the interstate rail terminal at East Perth.
Business cards, e-mail addresses and promises to share photos are swapped,
farewells are made, and our extraordinarily privileged group disbands into
taxis or with waiting family. For a few of us however, there is an extra
final leg to our adventure. We must return to the Observatory to deliver
some equipment and collect our cars. The atmosphere is jovial but weary as
we wend our way through the city and suburbs for the 40km trip, climbing the
escarpment once more, then winding down in the darkness through the
enchanting Bickley Valley to where the Observatory is located at the
valley's head. We arrive to hastily unpack the coach, say our farewells and
disperse to our cars for the drive home.
Thursday Dec 5 1545UT
What more can I say. In a little more than sixty hours I have travelled two
thousand kilometres across spectacular and mind numbing desolation, across
my wide brown land, I have stood on the edge of the Great Australian Bight
peering hundreds of feet down into the raging Southern Ocean, I have
witnessed - against all odds - the absolutely incredible beauty, awe and
splendour of a total solar eclipse, felt humbled by an event that would have
struck abject terror into the hearts and minds of my ancestors. Then I have
repeated one of the world's great road journeys to get home and witnessed
the savage beauty of a dust storm and thunderstorm rolled into one. I have
returned home safely.
But am I satisfied? No - I WANT MORE! Who is for Antarctica next year,
the Sahara or Turkey in 2006, India or China in 2009, Easter Island in 2010,
the Great Barrier Reef in 2012?????
May you see a hole in your sky soon.
--
Clear skies
Bevan Harris
116°02'27.5" E
31°52'18.5" S
SPAMBLOCK: Replace spam with bmh & blackhole with bigpond