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Totally
Eclipsed in Lyndhurst, S.A.
I heard it on the grapevine, as Marvyn Gaye sang in ’68. There
was to be a New Age festival in the Outback settlement of Lyndhurst,
timed to coincide with a total eclipse of the sun. Trance music would
accompany the astronomical happening. I had been just old enough to
catch the tail-end of the hippy era. I reckoned I was still young and
cool enough to check out the New Age.
“Will you go with me?” I asked Steve. Knowing his contempt
for aromatherapy, I expected him to say “no”.
“Let’s do it,” he said. And with no more ado, we threw the
swags and eskies into the back of the land cruiser……
In Lyndhurst, chartered planes were landing, bringing
professional astronomers to witness the eclipse that was fast
approaching. Astronomers and ordinary spectators alike were starting to
line up in the best spot, along the road running through the Farina
cattle station. A high wind was whipping up the dust and the revellers
coming from the party camp were wrapped in headscarves that made them
look more like figures from the Palestinian intifada than witnesses to a
celestial event. Some were eclipse junkies, like Trevor, an English-born
nurse from Adelaide, who said this was his third such experience.
“For me, an eclipse is always powerful. I saw one in Africa,
among the wild animals. Even the one in Cornwall, when it poured with
rain, was very moving.”
Steve and I took our
places in the viewing line. Our neighbour had a huge telescope. He gave
me a safe look through the filtered lens.
The time was 6.43 pm. The moon was just beginning to pass between
the earth and the sun, making it appear that a small bite had been taken
out of the world’s source of heat, light and life. It would be nearly
an hour before the sun was completely covered and became a black disc
with just a “corona” of light spilling out around the edges.
Like a child, I was fascinated by my own shadow against the
desert landscape. As more of the moon’s shadow was cast upon the
earth, my own black outline became tinged around the edges with silvery
light. It was as if I had a double shadow. I sat on the sand.
It was growing darker and chillier. Little birds were flying low
to the ground. I could well understand how ancient people had been
terrified by eclipses. I myself felt the need to huddle, to prostrate
myself even. “I am dust, I am dust in the wind, I am the wind,” said
an inner voice. The cheers of the crowd seemed to come from far away.
The moment of totality was very short. Then the sun began to
reappear. What stronger symbol of resurrection? A New Moon was also
due. It would be a double resurrection. But before that, there was
the rarest of sunsets, a still-partially eclipsed sun slipping beneath
the horizon. The photographers and astronomers were in heaven.
Photos
by Steve Strike
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