We had planned on staying put in Thermopolis for the eclipse, where we'd get 57 seconds of totality, rather than risk the expected crowds further South where it'd last longer. Our plans changed when the Bodeswells contacted us. They were in the company of the Mali Mish and Wandrly families outside of Shoshoni at a Game & Fish campground not 60 miles away, just off totality's center line, there was plenty of space, a kid-swimmable lake, it was free, and did we want to join them?
Yes, thank you. Ludwig nestled right in.
The next day eclipse preparations began in earnest.
The Bodeswell's eclipse-viewing apparatus.
Paddling in celebration of the eclipse (that's Stinkerton being towed).
Glasses, check.
The ambient light changed and we headed up a nearby hillock as the Sun was reduced to a thin crescent.
The camera started having trouble focusing as totality was an instant away.
And just like that, *blink*, the Sun disappeared. We didn't try to mess with the camera settings to get the perfect shot; all this light is from the corona. To us standing there, the Sun itself was completely covered, just like in this picture. That's Venus at upper right. There were a few stars visible too.
Right-click, 'Open link in new tab' to see 360° of dusk.
Two minutes, nineteen-point-nine seconds later (according to NASA), the Sun blinked back on, just like that. I had to work the next morning, so as early afternoon re-brightened we said goodbye to our eclipse crew.
The hour drive to Thermopolis, where our portion of the jam mostly broke up, took over two and-a-half. Traffic didn't clear out altogether until Cody. WYDoT said later that this many people had likely never been in Wyoming before at the same time.
Back in to smoky Montana.
