High Sierra Topix

We had prime viewing here in Idaho Falls and seeing
Totality was worth all the effort to get here from SoCal. Nice people and gracious hosts. We will see some local sites but probably avoid Yellowstone and Jackson Hole this trip.


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Was on top of castle peak in idaho with my boyfriend and a random group of 5, it was spectacular we were above any smoke with 360 degree views! As for traffic it was not bad at all we got to the 4th of july trailhead late fri/early sat morning and started hiking, went over what some call spaltski? Pass to upper chamberlain lake (on the way did a quick hike up mt Peterson (or something with a similar name). Sunday we traversed around castle peak to castle lake and merriam peak as a day hike. Monday started at 7:15 and were on top of castle at 9 (not in anyway as loose as some reports say) amyway spectacular! Went back grabbed our packs back over pass back to the truck by 4 really no bad traffic through Ketchum south tjen back to tahoe at 1:30am trip report coming later i hope i got some good pictures
Kristine

Thanks for the report David. That is an awesome photo of the eclipse !

Thanks partly to the inspiring comments in this thread, I experienced the eclipse on the top of Strawberry Mountain in Oregon’s Malheur National Forest.

I left San Jose at 4 a.m. Saturday morning and by 6 p.m. was camping among the dwarf whitebarks on a saddle 300 feet below the peak. With moderate temperatures, clear skies, no bugs or smoke, and a wonderful view of Prairie City and the valley below.

All the fear and anxiety about crowds, traffic, smoke, and weather were resolved. Everything just seemed to fall into place. I had all Sunday to relax, free of plans and deadlines. I was in a wilderness, but had no expectations of solitude, and really enjoyed every social encounter. We were all there for the same reason, and the positive energy and anticipation were palpable. Even the wildlife felt it - I witnessed two ravens dancing and free falling in air, and about 15 mountain goats playing on a snow bank.

A few visitors camped on top of the peak, and the rest us, about 200 or so, started heading up at 5 a.m. on Monday. I'd been mostly awake since 2 a.m., waiting for the day to begin like a kid on Christmas morning.

Many of us positioned ourselves on the edge of the peak's ridge, looking west, anticipating the arrival of the moon's shadow. I promised myself I wouldn’t sacrifice any totality messing with a camera, but in the moment I couldn’t resist. I captured (as best as I with an iPhone could) the approaching darkness, the vocal excitement, and some of the initial moments of totality in this video:

[youtube_vid]<iframe width="854" height="480" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/c7n60NmVCN8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>[/youtube_vid]

After totality was over, I felt some sharp regret for shooting this video. Totality was over too soon and I wanted more. Others were talking about plans for 2024, while others talked about Argentina 2019.

Within the next hour most of the visitors were gone from the peak. Many of us stayed and watched every last second of the remaining partial eclipse. I stared for what seemed like forever, straining my neck, until I could no longer see any speck of black on the sun’s edge.

An hour later, I was back in my camp, with just two quiet campers nearby, feeling moved, emotional, different. When I finally watched the video my regret melted away. I cried, feeling more emotional than I had felt during the event.

Seeing everyone leave so soon was told me to stay there another night. I drove home to San Jose the next morning, taking a beautiful scenic detour through Lassen Volcanic NP.

Geoff

My friend and I watched the eclipse while thru-hiking the North Cascades National Park in Washington.

We had come in with no expectations. This is the kind of place where rain can descend for weeks at a time.

Our first four days were mostly cloudy. Day 5, Aug 21, dawned with bluebird skies.

We woke in heavy forest cover. These are some of the deepest, darkest, most magnificent old-growth forests in the Pacific Northwest. Giant Western Red Cedars nearly as fat as Sequoia trees. Toads the size of two of your fists put together. Bright green ferns, iridescent yellow caterpillars, glacial aqua rivers, blood-red thimbleberries, and the blackest, glossiest black bear we'd ever seen. But we wanted some sunlight, so we scrambled down the trail for an hour till we found a spot that trended southeast and had sufficient canopy opening to witness the full, late-morning movement of the sun.

Over the past 2 days we had met backpackers who offered up their spare eclipse glasses, but we had our own.

We watched the eclipse for two hours, starting at 9:10 a.m. We spent a minute or three trying to decipher which side of the sun would be occluded first. The first hint of occlusion happened at the 2 o'clock side of the sun.

Although the moon's movement across the sun was so slow as to be indecipherable, we were mesmerized, and couldn't take our eyes off it.

At maximum occlusion - 91% in our location - it was noticeably chillier, but nearly as light as before. The birds did not stop singing.

I guess we were backpacker-hungry, because the shapes of the occluded sun reminded us only of food. Hey - it looks like those sweet dried tangerines from Trader Joe's! What I wouldn't give for one of those right now! Oh, wait...Now it looks like a banana!

No people, none at all. Only the toads and the grouse were around to share the view.

Unforgettable day.