Shortly after lunch though, we caught up with Meli's car, and
Dave and Noel decided to rejoin the main party. The countryside
east of Ankara is mainly farmland, but poplar trees are everywhere.
It is traditional in Turkey for families to plant trees each time
a child is born, partly as a symbol, and partly to ensure the child
will have something to call their own when both have matured.
Finally, after almost 5 hours on the road, we started passing signs
like this one, indicating we had reached "the shadow zone". We all
heaved a sigh of relief - it didn't matter now if the bus broke
down, all we needed now was clear skies, and we were definitely
going to see an eclipse. The only matter now was how long would
it last. Every mile closer to the centerline would bring us an
extra 2 seconds or so of totality, and when the maximum we could
expect was only 2 1/4 minutes, every mile was precious. Dave
and Noel appear pretty chuffed to be here, but most of the locals
seemed to be wondering what all the fuss was about.
Just before arriving in Tokat that evening, we were guests of honour
at a dinner put on by some of the local government and tourism
officials and their families. For many of us, this was a good chance
to experience "First Contact", and really have a go at the language,
with help from our "Lonely Planet" phrasebooks. Here, Robin Gledhill
and Nelson Copp attempt to explain to Gamze Ayca the kind of spectacle
we were all hoping to see the next day. Even when the phrasebook
wasn't much help, it's amazing what a bit of body language can
accomplish. In fact, the children all knew quite a few English
phrases, which they had been taught at school and encouraged to ask,
such as "Hello, what is your name?", and "Where do you come
from?". The food was superb, and the local wine was particularly well
received. There was in fact a special "eclipse wine" on offer, and
later we were able to purchase more bottles (perhaps to be drunk when
the next solar eclipse passes over Tokat on March 29, 2006). After
dinner, we were taken to the town square of Tokat, where we were again
honoured guests at a special folklore performance. Towards the end of
the concert, a loud explosion off to one side had us a little bit
concerned that maybe the rumours of possible terrorist action were
true, but it turned out to be just fireworks going off. Feeling rather
exhausted after a long day's travel, and with the logistics of
distributing our group amongst 5 different homes that night still to
deal with, we regrettably had to leave the concert early. The bus
dropped us off in groups of 6, and we were escorted with our luggage
down some dark alleys and past modest looking apartment blocks. Inside
though, they proved to be spacious, comfortable, and quite ornately
decorated homes.
Wednesday 11 August - E Day!
The day started with the customary Turkish breakfast (most of it grown
by our hosts in their own garden), accompanied by extensive TV
coverage of the preparations for the big day. Although we couldn't
tell for certain, the weather forecast for Turkey looked pretty
good. At sunrise, we could see extensive cloud on the eastern horizon,
but it was clear to the west where the shadow would come from.
While Dave and Noel went out to scout for the best viewing location,
for the rest of us, it was a chance to rest up, prepare our equipment, and
explore the town of Tokat. Here, Lorna Adkins shows the lovely room she and
Larry had, which opens onto a courtyard where the residents have their
gardens.
By the time we got to the main square, the festivities were in full
swing. The dancers we had only dimly seen the night before were busy
again today.
The local schoolkids were brought in a parade to the square, and were
obviously excited by what was about to happen. I lent one of them my "eclipse
shades" (filtered glasses) to see what the Sun looked like, and I tried
to explain what a "tutulmasi" would feel like. Naturally, they all wanted
to have a look, but unlike most kids I know, who would fight over who got
to look next, the Turkish children were extremely polite, and waited their
turn. By 11am, Noel and
Dave had returned, claiming to have found an "OK" spot, but one that would
necessitate going up in minibuses. We grabbed our gear, squeezed in, and
set off up the back roads of Tokat.
Despite almost not being able to get one of the buses up the steep goat
track, we eventually reached the top of a hill overlooking the town, which
normally had nothing on it but cell-phone towers. We all agreed this was an
excellent spot from which to view an eclipse - the clear views in all
directions meant we should get an excellent impression of the Moon's shadow
racing across the mountain ranges to the east and west, and the whole of Tokat
was spread out beneath us (so we wouldn't be affected when the streetlights
came on during totality). Here I'm modeling the latest fashions in eclipse
wear - a special group T-shirt, an Akubra hat to keep the Sun off (even when
the Sun was 95% covered by the Moon, the temperature was still in the high
20s), and a tripod for the camera which I swore I wouldn't waste my time
with this year...
Clouds still lingered on the northern horizon near the Black Sea coast,
but everywhere else was reassuringly clear. Meli laid on a great picnic
lunch for us, and many of us were still eating as the Moon took its first bite
out of the Sun. As usual, there were no other obvious changes in the next hour
or so, but by about 20 minutes before the start of totality, it was distinctly
rather cooler up on the hill for such a bright, clear day. Once again, the
final 60 seconds before second contact passed extremely quickly, and to the
northwest, the sky was getting markedly bluer, while the light began to
fade in the valleys below us. This was my clue to glance up, and for the
first time, I was able to witness a diamond ring on ingress without getting
totally dazzled. I immediately noticed about a half-dozen crimson prominences,
3 on each side, and in fact they were visible throughout the whole event
(unlike in Baja and Chile, where the Moon progressively revealed and then
hid them as it crossed the face of the Sun). The next thing that struck me
was just how "spiky" and contrasty the coronal streamers were, lending the
eclipsed Sun almost a hedgehog (or porcupine) appearance. One streamer in
particular (at about the 11 o'clock position) had an extremely bright base,
which I initially thought to be almost a second diamond ring, but which stayed
bright throughout the event. The increasingly strong crimson chromosphere
on the Sun's western edge signalled to me that our 2 minutes of totality
were almost up, and sure enough, just after I brought my binoculars down,
I was able to witness the Diamond Ring once more. Looking across to the
east, I could see the valleys and mountains sequentially brighten,
as the Moon's shadow headed towards Iran. I do remember being able to see
Venus easily, but no other planets or stars. During totality, the locals
actually were letting off fireworks as well, as if the spectacle in the
sky was not impressive enough. Mindful of my tendency to
underexpose the wide-angle photos of totality the previous year, this time
I erred on the side of caution, and racked off 4 shots of (what I thought
was) 15-30 seconds duration. But of course one's perception of time during
totality is screwed up, so all I succeeded in capturing was 4 very over-exposed
shots which made totality look like a snowstorm. Sigh.
At least what I can show are these 3 superb views of the eclipse,
taken by John Greaves from
elsewhere in Turkey.
Note in particular the "detached" prominence visible at the 5 o'clock
position, and the bright piece of the corona near 11 o'clock.
As usual, no-one stuck around to watch until the Moon finally left the
Sun, and in fact we bugged out fairly promptly, as we still had a lot
of traveling to do that day. At first, everyone was excitedly sharing
stories of what they had experienced. It wasn't until we had been on the
road for a couple of hours, and the relief of actually seeing the event
in perfect conditions from such a wonderful spot had passed, that the
"Post-Eclipse Depression" set in. By then, we were all too tired, and
much of the country rolled by unnoticed. We were headed for Bogazkale,
near the ancient Hittite city of Hattusas. Before we arrived at our hotel,
we were treated to views of a superb sunset (the Sun made all the more
red by the smoke from burning hay stubble) and of storks sitting atop
telephone poles.
As if the eclipse itself was not spectacular enough, August 11 was also
expected to be near the peak of the Perseid meteor shower which (not
surprisingly)
would be unaffected by moonlight this year. Although it had been a long
and tiring day, most of us expressed an interest in going out to look for
meteors. So after dinner we loaded ourselves, some eclipse wine, and some
kilims (woven rugs) back on to the bus, and drove a wee way out of town to
the site of an ancient Hittite open air temple/sanctuary. At first, the
4000 year-old carvings of figures marching in a procession seemed rather
unimpressive, but as soon as our guide illuminated them from the side with
his torch, the figures jumped out at us in stark relief, and we were all
awestruck. Afterwards we lay on the kilims, sipping wine, listening to
Beethoven, and let out shouts of delight when the occasional meteor (Perseid
or otherwise) streaked its way across the sky (none of my long-exposure
photographs captured any, but this one shows the Big Dipper circling Polaris).
It had been one fabulous day, and there was still a lot of Turkey to see
yet.
This morning, I awoke at dawn, and watched the sun rise over the rolling
countryside (as seen in the picture on the main title
page). After an early breakfast on board the train, we rolled into
Ankara at 7:35am, and with the help of some local porters, loaded our
gear onto the Meli Tur coach (a locally-assembled Mercedes) which would
be our main form of transportation for the next 9 days, expertly driven
by our driver Metin. Our stay in Ankara would be only a brief one, since we had
many more miles to cover today in order to reach the centerline. We
were taken first to the Museum of Anatolian Civilisations, but since
it didn't open for another half-hour, there was time to enjoy the
pleasant surrounding gardens. The museum contains relics of the
various peoples that have lived in this region over the centuries,
including entire cave paintings from the Neolithic and the Hittite
(2700 - 800 BC) eras. It seems the Hittites had quite a bit of contact
with the Egyptians, as many of the motifs in their stone carvings
are similar to those seen in the pyramids of Egypt. In Ankara,
Meli and her son joined our group, and they headed off by car
with Noel and Dave in order to scout ahead for suitable locations
for eclipse viewing tomorrow.
