Clouds.
And not just nice puffy cumulus ones. We’re talking about overcast stratus clouds holding down haze so thick that the entire sky was a complete featureless gray. Here we were, having flown to Hangzhou, China to see the longest total solar eclipse for a century and the entire continent was blanketed. NASA was kind enough to create a map showing the path of the eclipse and, I kid you not, there was not a clear patch of sky along the entire range.
It was midnight, just nine hours away from the event, and after just arriving at our hotel we were gathered around laptops scouring maps and weather reports. By 1:00 am we had decided to reserve a taxi for the morning to take us west towards the mountains just in case. Dawn brought no better hopes for seeing the eclipse, so we had our befuddled driver head west towards Tianmu Mountain, the tallest peak we could reasonably reach. We had no idea what we would find there.
Heaven Eye Mountain
Turns out there’s a park at East Tianmu Mountain which required us to leave our taxi at the gate. Though by this point, we were starting to feel lucky. After an hour ride, we had grabbed an oily Chinese breakfast in the village at the base of the mountain. While we were scarfing down dumplings and drinking up soy milk, the sky cleared. A few park tickets later we were traveling up a cable car towards the summit. From there a stone path led through the mountain forest to a Zen Buddhist monastery, complete with chanting monks and curious children. Having had no idea where we would end up, I now found myself setting up my tripod in the square before a golden buddha statue surrounded by pagodas, temples and towering Japanese cedars under an increasingly clear sky.
Then the clouds came back.
But even though we didn’t get a clear shot of most of the totality, we still ended up with quite a view and perhaps the most surreal experience of my life. There’s just no better place to see an eclipse than in a zen monastery on a forested mountaintop. The children made sure that plenty of my shots ended up blurry and they huddled around the camera, trying to get a glimpse. At each peek of the sun and moon the monks chanted “Amituofo” which might best be described as the equivalent of a Southern Baptist shouting “Hallelujah!” And when the moon and sun joined, the human chatter was replaced with night insects humming as the daylight turned to darkness. Indeed, the scene on the ground was as exotic and enchanting as that in the sky.
How to actually see a solar eclipse
Aside from viewing it from an ancient temple, I can give other, more practical eclipse viewing advice. First off, always use a filter when viewing the sun. Under the heavy cloud cover, you can make out the eclipse without visual aids, but it’s still not a good idea to risk your eyesight like that. Until the actual moment of the totality, the sky will remain quite bright. In fact, you may not realize that half the sun is blocked by the moon until you use a filter. The filters are often given out by museums or schools or can be easily ordered online.
If you’re taking photos, then you need a special solar filter. Thousand Oaks Optical makes some particularly good ones. What I found in Hong Kong was a sheet of Baader solar film which I then cut and mounted on an empty threaded ring for my camera. I used a Canon 70mm-300mm lens to zoom in enough to get a decent shot.
The good news for taking photos of an eclipse is that you can set up everything beforehand, including camera settings and then just take shots during event. The sun is still bright enough that you won’t need to fiddle with your aperture or shutter speed much. Just take some practice shots beforehand and once you have a balance you like, you can leave it alone.
Thoughts on Hangzhou
I ended up staying in Hangzhou for three days during which I saw not only the eclipse, but the Qiantang river tidal bore, the tea villages, and the West Lake. Hangzhou is truly an exceptionally beautiful Chinese city. True, the main city streets are full of towering concrete and the ubiquitous signs of a modern emerging China. But walking around West Lake or taking a trip to the tea villages puts one in another time and place altogether.
The tidal bore wasn’t nearly as impressive as we had been led to believe. From August to October, the ocean wave riding up the river can reach several meters in height. In our case, we could clearly see the river rising, and rising fast, but there was no real wave to speak of. On my bus ride back to the airport, I did catch the tidal bore once again and this time I noticed a visible wave breaking.
The tea villages are beautiful. It reminds me of wine vineyards, though I honestly haven’t spent much time in any. Manjuelong Village was under construction, though we did find the Stone House Cave. The Longjing Village nearer to the tea museum was much more scenic.
As for West Lake, I was enchanted. It’s larger than I expected. And I was surprised at how preserved the space is. There are no gaudy stands or buildings jutting out and destroying the view. Instead, it’s all willows and walkways and small boats. I particularly enjoyed walking into Zhongshan Park and Solitary Hill (Gu Shan). Wish I had had more time.
Now I’m back in Guangzhou from where I’ll be working for the next three months or so. It’s not going to be easy being away from Jenny and Maeli and working long hours to restart my startup. But I have say, at least my return to China has had a pretty decent start.
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