when the sun never sets, would be extraordinary). The 

 total solar eclipse of November 23, 2003, for example, 

 was the very first in history to have been observed from 

 the Antarctic. 



So it was that on August 1 , at 3:30 a.m. local time, I found 

 myself at Diisseldorf International Airport, preparing to 

 board an Airbus A330-200 long-range jet for a 2,189-mile 

 airlift to a grandstand seat.The flight was arranged with LTU 

 International Airlines by Deutsche Polarflug. There were 

 146 other participants, about half of them "umbraphiles" 

 or "eclipsomaniacs"; the others were on board to take in 

 the sights of the Arctic (of necessity, as only half the plane 

 windows would be facing the solar spectacle). Most of us 



- ♦ . 



-7*;/ — ' — . ■ >tS^ 



With temperatures hovering around freezing, gaps appear in the sea ice at the 

 North Pole during the Arctic summer. The North Pole is significantly warmer 

 than the South Pole because it lies at sea level in the middle of an ocean, which 

 acts as a reservoir of heat; the South Pole falls within a continental land mass at 

 an elevation of 9,300 feet. 



came already prepared, but special dark glasses were handed 

 out, along with a warning against looking directly at the 

 Sun during the partial stages of the eclipse. 



We flew over the German North Sea coast and Denmark 

 toward Norway. From there, we flew across the Barents Sea 

 heading to Spitsbergen, the largest island of the Svalbard 

 archipelago in the Arctic Ocean. The name Spitsbergen 



means "jagged peaks," and we found the name most 

 fitting, for when we dropped from our cruising altitude 

 of 36,000 feet down to 7,000 feet to have a closer look, 

 we saw mountain formations, majestic fjords, and calving 

 glaciers. Ascending again to 36,000 feet, we prepared for 

 our special "totality run," just 500 miles from the North 

 Pole. Astronomer Glenn Schneider, from the University of 

 Arizona's Steward Observatory, had worked out the flight 

 plan for Captain Wilhelm Heinz and his flight crew. This 

 was to be Schneider's twenty-seventh total eclipse, and he 

 hoped to collect new corona data. 



Flying nearly seven miles above the Earth's surface, 

 our jet provided an unobstructed view above more 

 ■ than three-fourths of the 

 atmosphere's mass and almost 

 all its water vapor. Several 

 minutes before totality, the 

 light inside the cabin gradually 

 faded, signaling the start of a 

 show much as the lights dim 

 in a theater. Over the drone 

 of the jet engines, passengers 

 spoke excitedly in German and 

 English as the Sun narrowed 

 to a curved filament of light. 

 As the last of its rays squeezed 

 past the jagged lunar edge, 

 they produced a beautiful and 

 long-lasting "diamond ring" 

 effect. The lunar shadow then 

 swept in from the west and 

 enveloped our plane in the 

 eerie darkness of totality. 



In the cobalt-blue sky the 

 Sun's corona now shone like 

 a brilliant platinum ring on a 

 dark velvet cushion. Several 

 long streamers spilled out from 

 the corona, a typical feature 

 when the Sun is at sunspot 

 minimum, as it is has been for 

 the past couple of years. On 

 the edge of the Moon's jet- 

 black disk, a small prominence 

 could also be glimpsed. Adding 

 to the scene, to the left of the 

 darkened star of the show, four 

 planets seized their chance 

 to shine: Mercury, Venus, Saturn, and Mars. Although 

 no match for the Moon's shadow, which was moving 

 at 2,740 miles per hour, our aircraft, with its 555-mile- 

 per-hour speed, provided us with 175 seconds of total 

 eclipse in which to take pictures and record other data. 

 An observer on a stationary ship on the Arctic Ocean 

 below us would have had 132 seconds. 



4 0 



natural history October 2008 



