Total Solar Eclipse, March 29 2006, Al Saloom Egypt

by Richard Ozer

Observing Report - Total Solar Eclipse, March 29th 2006, Saloom Plateau, Egypt

Traveling to Egypt to observe the solar eclipse started as a whim. One day, while perusing my email, I came across a note from Ken Frank of the AANC. In that email was a message from Kris Koenig, of the Chico Observatory, announcing an excursion to the border of Egypt and Libya. I had never been on an eclipse trip; my only experiences being vicarious at best. I once saw a partial eclipse projected on the ground by some tree leaves, and I remember my brother nearly blinding himself on an eclipse when I was still a brat. But to actually travel to one had not been on my radar. Figuring that I owed myself a 45th birthday present, I was able to rationalize the whole thing in a record ten minutes. Before I knew it, I had sent in my confirmation and began googling information about eclipse watching, solar photography, and travel in Egypt.

This trip was a departure for me in other ways as well. I've traveled to many different countries, but I've never traveled on a tour. I had to swallow the fact that my time in Egypt would be programmed to the minute; but after looking at exactly where the eclipse site was located, I quickly concluded that the only way I'd make it to a prime location was with the assistance of some well connected tour operators.

Another advantage of this particular trip was that it was organized by the travelers themselves rather than a foreign travel company trying to sell eclipse tours in the United States. Some years back, Kris Koenig had co-founded "Expeditions," a small travel outfit in Chico, geared toward astronomy travel. Expeditions linked up with Ya'ala Tours in Egypt, who expertly handled all of the booking, logistics, tours of the antiquities sites, and five star accommodations. The other organizer of the trip was Claude Plymate, of the National Solar Observatory at Kitt Peak, and having an actual solar astronomer with us was a real benefit. Many of our discussions were about the likely shape of the corona during a solar minimum, the effects of sunspot activity on the corona, and the composition and various boundaries of the solar atmosphere; research that Claude has pursued since his graduate work in Astronomy years ago.

The eclipse itself spanned a huge swath of the globe. Starting in eastern Brazil, it crossed the Atlantic, made landfall in Ghana, traveled north through the African continent through Niger and Libya, and ultimately crossed into Egypt in that nation's far northwestern corner before heading across the Mediterranean into Turkey, western China and Mongolia.

Eclipse chasing is a risky business. As I've heard it said, "What you know is the climate. What you want to know is the weather." The climate looked promising. Without even researching, you have to naturally assume that the Sahara Desert is a good place for clear skies. The only exceptions could be thunder storms coming in over the Mediterranean or a "Khamsun" condition, where high-speed hot desert winds pour out of the Sahara and exfoliate anyone (and anything) in their path. When we arrived in Cairo, the weather was hazy and fairly overcast. These conditions remained with us through Alexandria and along the coast up until the day before the eclipse.

On the afternoon of the 28th, we packed up all our gear and began the three hundred mile or so drive to Al Saloom. Our plan was to out-race most of the other groups, whose busses would likely clog the highway as the time of the eclipse approached. We briefly stopped along the way at Marsa Matruh, a small town along the highway where we were able to freely wander about, peek into some shops and interact with the locals. One thing that struck me about Egypt is that the country never seems to sleep. Although Matruh was a tiny "ten block" town, it was still hopping at 11:00 at night. People were crowded into cafes, shops were open, and characteristically everyone was outgoing, smiling and incredibly friendly. After drinking some Turkish coffees and engaging in some gentle ribbing and cell-phone photography with the local teenagers, we got back on the bus for the final leg to Al-Saloom.

Above the actual town of Al-Saloom is the thousand foot high Saloom plateau. It was on this plateau that our guides had managed to acquire permission for us to observe. Our particular site was reserved for VIPs and Scientists only. With our help, Claude managed to come up with various hypotheses that we were to test during our observations and by midnight, we were deputized as bona-fide researchers.

As we approached Saloom, many of us had our faces pressed against the bus windows looking for stars. We figured that as long as we were seeing stars, then our prospects were good. But, as we climbed the plateau the stars disappeared, and we found ourselves in a fogbank. We were a little surprised to see fog, but nothing could have prepared us for the surreal scene that awaited us at the top of the plateau.

When we got to the top of the plateau, our bus driver turned onto a dirt path and slowly navigated his leviathan of a tour-bus onto a bumpy dirt road. We couldn't see much in the dark, but we soon could see the outline of tents silhouetted against yellowish flood lights and swirling fog. As row after row of these white tents made their appearance, I imagined I was in some sort of bizarre refugee camp for astronomers; all of us kicked out of our home countries and forced to drag our equipment across the Sahara to the Saloom plateau.

We got off the bus to find ourselves engulfed in the Egyptian equivalent of a Central Valley "Tule-Fog." Everything was dripping wet, we were all chilled to the bone, and we reluctantly began to accept that it was only 3:30 in the morning, and we had three or four numbing hours to go before we could even think of setting up equipment or getting up to the actual observing site. Thinking of everything, our hosts had set up a Bedouin style tent for us with hot tea, breakfast and freshly baked cookies. We spent the time with our guides, joking around, talking about Egypt, astronomy, and politics, all the while huddling under blankets, crawling into sleeping bags or doing whatever we could to stay warm and dry.

Dawn broke and conditions had not yet improved, and in the fog we made our way to the military base and press area where we planned to set up and observe the eclipse. The press area was decorated to the hilt. There were huge banners proclaiming the event, and a huge hospitality tent, complete with giant floor rugs, tables, chairs and an internet connection. Next to the hospitality tent were two sets of bleachers for VIPs, who we soon realized would include Hosni Mubarak, the President of Egypt. This was truly the most significant and well attended event on the Saloom Plateau since Montgomery chased Rommel into Libya.

Of course, with all the fanfare came a price. As military vehicles criss-crossed the area, tow-trucks, with sirens blaring, removed all unauthorized vehicles. As first contact drew closer, our unobstructed long-distance view of the desert to the south was replaced with a very close-up view of Egyptian bodyguards, each the size of Mohammed Ali (the Boxer, not the King).

As VIPs filtered in and the President's helicopter was seen landing in the distance, the press core jammed into our observing area with a vengeance. They wanted photos of the Egyptian ministers and the President and were interested in the international contingent of Astronomers and researchers only as an afterthought. We did, however, give some good interviews. I had the opportunity to speak with a Spanish reporter about the effect of Solar Maxima on space weather and communications; and, because of the Spanish origins of our name, she was very excited that I was affiliated with the Mt. Diablo Astronomical Society.

First contact was at 11:20 AM local time, and for the next hour, we watched the moon's crescent slowly glide across the sun. A few minutes before totality, the quality of light began to change. Everything on the ground grew dimmer, yet the sky remained bright. It seemed like the entire world had grown in contrast, yet all the shadows had diminished into blurs.

At 2nd contact, the moment of totality, a perfectly formed diamond ring was visible on the sun's limb, and those of us with telescopes could make out an adjacent prominence. That prominence, not surprisingly, was alongside a group of three sunspots located just alongside the diamond ring. As we all anticipated, particularly after our previous discussions with Claude, the corona took on an east west asymmetry typical of a solar minimum, with some additional elongated streamers off to one side; likely a result of the sunspot group and nearby prominence. Four minutes later, at 3rd contact, the eclipse delivered a brilliant chromo-sphere, momentarily seen as a bright red ring of fire at the trailing edge of the eclipse. I had the pleasure of observing the chromo-sphere naked eye, with my glasses on, no less. For me it was the most surprising and memorable part of the eclipse.

Since this was my first eclipse, I did not have any reference to compare it to other experiences. At the time, it struck me that the sky remained quite bright; much brighter than I had expected. Perhaps this was due to the lingering moisture in the atmosphere. The steadiness of the seeing was also noticeable. Many speculated that the absence of shadow bands (the odd phenomenon of rippling shadows that often appears right before totality) was due to the unusually steady conditions. Mike Reynolds, former director of the Chabot Space and Science Center and veteran eclipse watcher, nicknamed it "the monochrome eclipse" because of the overall lack of color and the absolute jet black appearance of the moon against the somewhat brightened sky.

I wish I could share more in the way of photos; but my best images are unfortunately in my head. I broke my golden rule of making software modifications in a "production environment" by altering the firmware on my camera just prior to the eclipse. Things were going along wonderfully up until two seconds before totality; at which point my camera informed me that its memory card was unreadable. So, I have one decent diamond ring and prominence shot, and an as of yet unknown collection of images from my backup film camera. Fortunately, I was not particularly invested in the photography side of this eclipse, as I was accompanied by a group of very experienced photographers whose images will certainly exceed anything I could have produced myself. The upside of my camera giving up the ghost was that I could actually watch the event without distraction.

Before I left on this trip, many people questioned the wisdom of my traveling to Egypt. With all of the negative media about the middle-east, North Africa, and the Muslim world, both family and friends were concerned that I might not be welcome as an American. The reality could not have been more different. I found Egyptians to be profoundly welcoming. People on the street, particularly young people, were excited to see us and would take the opportunity to practice their English and even smile and wave for our cameras. Even on the street, nearly everyone we encountered had a great sense of humor and wanted to share stories. Ironically, on this Passover week, my family will be celebrating our ancestors' exodus from Egypt (as is Jewish tradition at this time of year). I, however, will be lamenting the fact that I'm not still there, struggling to count to five in Arabic, overpaying for everything due to my woefully inadequate bargaining skills, absorbing the untold contradictions and social juxtapositions of Cairo, smelling the spices, breathing desert air, and standing in the shadows of some of our greatest wonders.

Posted on sf-bay-tac Apr 09, 2006 13:48:58 PT
Converted by report.pm 1.4 Apr 09, 2006 16:35:30 PT