At the same time, one of my best friends—Ted Bordwell—wanted to drive to Texas on his own, and invited me along. He had envisioned staying at City of Rocks State Park in NM and making as brief as possible an incursion into Texas, sleeping in the car at rest areas. As I studied the routes and locations, however, I came to the conclusion that Texas was out of the question.
I proposed traveling to the Ouachita National Forest in Arkansas, suggesting that Forest Road 17 seemed to be the most realistic place to camp close to the centerline of totality. I planned out the itinerary as is my wont, and made reservations at the KOA in Amarillo, TX, as the rest stop. I planned on staying three full days in the woods to allow plenty of rest and avoidance of crazy traffic, plus one last stop in Gallup, NM. There I booked a night at the Best Western using reward points.
But then, as the day of departure approached, I grew positively nauseous with nervousness that this was a bad idea, that we were on a crash course with disaster, and that even in the woods of Arkansas this whole trip would be a madhouse and a failure. It occurred to me that this is what people mean by the term "butterflies in the stomach." Nonetheless, I went through it anyway, and I am happy to say that it was the best camping trip I ever went on.
Driving up FR17 we are a bit worried, because of the extensive underbrush and deep gutters dug on either side of the road. After a while, however, we spot a site and say "YES!" It is at the confluence of Pilot Creek and West Fiddler Creek, and is well-established. It is less than 5 miles from the centerline of totality.
That night, as we relax and play music, fireflies emerge. I haven't seen fireflies for years and years, and here they are, adding much a faërie quality to our setting.
Today we go wandering along FR 17. Early in the morning we hear shots from the turkey hunters in the distance. But there's nobody camping anywhere near us. As we go walking a couple of miles up FR 17 and back, we only see one other vehicle.
Later that day, as I sit reading a book, a tick comes crawling over it. Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Needless to say, I take extra caution with bug repellant.
That night, the temperature dips considerably, and coyotes howl nearly all night.
And up Pilot Creek:
For the eclipse, I bring along my Olympus digital SLR camera along with my Dad's old telephoto lens and my own home-brew solar filter. This combination served me well for the annular eclipse in May 2012, but this time I just cannot get the settings right.
My phone also fails to take a decent picture at totality:
Finally, I slap on the telephoto lens that came with the Olympus, and all is good:
If you look closely, you can see three stars in the close-up.
That night, lightning appears in the distance, and we get dumped on for hours.
And that's it. This trip, in terms of total miles and days, is quite similar to other trips I have taken to music camps in Mendocino. However, I don't believe that I shall ever take such an ambitious camping trip ever again, but then again who knows?