Follow the crowds, avoid the clouds: I chase eclipses to witness nature's awesome glory

This First Person column is written by Bob McDonald, host of CBC Radio's Quirks & Quarks. On April 8, he will be in Kingston, Ont., to experience his seventh total eclipse. 

My first eclipse was in 1977 on a ship in the Pacific Ocean, 1,200 nautical miles off the coast of Mexico. 

It was a special eclipse cruise involving two ships — one departing from Los Angeles, which I was on, the other departing from Florida and passing through the Panama Canal. The cruise included astronomy presentations from scientists until, on the third day out, the captain announced, "We're here." 

The two ships met far out at sea in the path of totality. Everyone gathered on deck, as the ship slowly rolled on deep ocean swells. We waved to people on our sister ship not far away.

The tropical sun was hot. But as the moon began to pass in front of it, the temperature dropped to a comfortable level and the sky darkened to a deep cobalt blue. Totality arrived, transforming the sun into a silvery ring. Photographs just can't capture the beauty of the sun's corona, a wispy silvery glow with no definable edge, like the finest cat's fur.

Then to our surprise, the planets Mercury and Venus appeared as brilliant diamonds on either side, giving the appearance of a cosmic necklace in the sky with the sun as a pendant in the middle. 

I was hooked. 

There is a saying among eclipse chasers, that "Until you have seen a total eclipse, you haven't seen an eclipse." Having seen six in different locations around the world, I can verify that statement. It is a humbling experience, where the cosmos puts on a spectacular show — and we humans have nothing to do with it. 

Earth is the only planet in the solar system that has total eclipses, where the sun is covered exactly by the moon. Our moon is 400 times smaller than the sun, while the sun is 400 times farther away, so they appear exactly the same size from the ground. 

The path of totality — the only place to experience the whole effect of an eclipse — is very narrow. With each eclipse, it moves to a different part of the planet, making every one unique. 

In 1979, people in Winnipeg and Brandon, Man., were treated to the full spectacle, but I was in Red Lake, Ont., visiting schools as an instructor from the Ontario Science Centre. We were clouded out but even with the clouds, it was a unique experience as the day suddenly went dark for a few minutes, as though some kind of giant alien mother ship had passed overhead.

Clouds are a major headache for eclipse chasers, who try to pick a spot along the path of totality that has the best chance of clear skies. You might think that, on the day of the eclipse, you'll be able to move to a clear area, but roads are usually so congested that you can't go anywhere. 

Eclipses are a great excuse to travel and I have chased the moon's shadow all over the planet. 

In 1980 I joined another group of eclipse chasers on a trip to Africa, an adventure that included a safari across the Serengeti plains of Tanzania, where we drove among thundering herds of wildebeest and zebra with lions laying in wait.