Thomas Edison is known as an early American prolific inventor. He ventured west in 1878 to test an invention which was supposed to be a very sensitive heat detector. While his experiments were largely inconsequential and his "tasimeter" a footnote at best, the theory behind its use was sound and perhaps ahead of its time as it may have been one of the first instances of searching the cosmos using radiation outside of the narrow visible spectrum of light.
James Craig Watson viewed the eclipse hoping to find the existence of a planet inside the orbit of Mercury. He found an unknown object that he determined to be the planet "Vulcan" which he was looking for. Dying a few years later, before his planet discovery was debunked, his legacy remains one of setting up an astronomy award which bears his name today.
Maria Mitchell went to research the eclipse with a female contingent. Plagued by the misogyny of the era, her eclipse viewing didn't result in any immediate consequence, but her legacy lives on as an early female pioneer during America's ascendancy in science.
I read the book as I am preparing to head out to see the 2017 eclipse in a few weeks. My upcoming eclipse viewing is strictly experiential, not scientific. I've done as much preparing as I can at this point, which means I am now free to worry as the date approaches.
Like most people, my chosen location is based on a mix of where I live, where it is likely to have minimal clouds and where the amount of people will be tolerable.
In February of 1998, I went down to camp on St. Johns in the US Virgin Islands. An eclipse was passing through that area but the eclipse was more of an excuse to go on a rather exotic vacation for a couple weeks. Camping on the beach near a bizarre cast of characters and wild donkeys was quite an experience. St. Johns was in the 80%+ band of the eclipse, and it was interesting, but anticlimactic. If anything, the crescent shadows cast by the sun obscured by the moon were probably the most interesting feature.
I want to see totality this time. And I'm a chronic worrier, so I have several weeks to fret.
I worry about the weather. As much as I plan on going to an area that is likely to have minimal clouds, even the driest areas in Eastern Oregon have some probability of all-day cloudiness or torrential rain during the actual event. I am aware that I can do nothing about this, and while minor adjustments can be made, major changes will be difficult within the time frame of accurate weather forecasts. My preparation has essentially locked me into the general area I've chosen. More out of curiosity, I looked at major destinations on the path of totality to see what, if any, hotel rooms were still available. Few are, and they are all really expensive; in the most egregious example, a 1-star hotel with bad reviews in Casper, Wyoming is still available ... at a cost of nearly $1200.
I worry about people. I plan on going to a less-populated area of the country, but will thousands and thousands of other people have the same idea. Intuitively I think not; a small subset of the population will be going to great length to see the eclipse and a larger subset will make an effort near where they live, but I don't believe the entire path of totality will be crawling with people to view an event which is to last only a few minutes. Still, I'd rather not view the eclipse while stuck in some traffic jam which is historic for the area I'll be in.
While I enjoyed reading American Eclipse, I'm not sure it was wise to do so. David Baron writes of the inability of people to find boarding rooms in 1878. There are a lot more people around with a lot more ability for information 139 years later. In some sense, being in the right kind of crowd may be fun for an event like this - I just hope to have a few square feet for me and my tripod.
He also writes about terrible weather leading up to the eclipse. But in the end, the eclipse day was clear and weather forecasts have come a long way in 139 years.
I guess as with any kind of travel, the anticipation is part of the experience. Forty-nine days and counting...
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