Watching the Total Solar Eclipse from Hunky Dory

An Early and Exciting Start

I woke up early that morning excited about the day ahead. A total solar eclipse would pass directly across our part of western Kentucky, and we had an opportunity to experience it from the water aboard Hunky Dory.

Debbie and I had discussed several coves located along the path of totality. We wanted a place that provided a good view of the sky, enough room to anchor safely, and some separation from the activity around the marina. We identified a couple of possible locations but planned to make the final choice after getting underway.

Our friend Chris was staying aboard with us and would be joining Debbie and me for the trip. The boat had been fueled the previous day, and most of our preparations were complete. We planned to leave Green Turtle Bay early enough to reach a cove and have the anchor set well before the eclipse began.

It promised to be a memorable day—but Hunky Dory first presented me with a problem that needed immediate attention.

An Electrical Problem Before Departure

While enjoying my first cup of coffee early that morning in the pilot house, I noticed that part of the pilothouse counter felt unusually warm. Under the counter, I found a heavy black wire that was getting extremely hot while three of the CruiseAir systems were operating, so I shut them down along with the electrical power and continued investigating.

I found that the hot wire was leading into a spade connector that was loose, and both the wire and connector showed signs of having become overheated. The connection had begun to deteriorate and needed to be repaired before we left the marina—especially on a day when temperatures were expected to reach the 90s with high humidity and we would need the air conditioning.

I removed the damaged connector and installed a new terminal. I then operated the air conditioners at several different loads while repeatedly checking the wires. Everything remained cool.

The repair delayed some of my preparations, but it was reassuring to have the problem identified and corrected before getting underway. It also served as another reminder that boat problems do not care whether something special is scheduled for that day.

With the electrical system working properly, we were ready to leave.

Heading for Demumbers Bay

We pulled away from Green Turtle Bay at 8:40 am that morning with Debbie, Chris, and me (and our cats Lizzie and Lulu) aboard. Even at that hour, the day was already warm and humid.

As we left the marina, there was a sense that nearly everyone in the area was preparing for the same event. Boats were heading toward coves and open areas with unobstructed views of the sky. The eclipse had attracted visitors throughout the region, and western Kentucky was directly in the path of totality.

After considering our possible anchorages, we chose Demumbers Bay. We had anchored there before and knew it provided good protection and plenty of room. It was also well situated for viewing the eclipse.

When we arrived, we anchored Hunky Dory in approximately 13 feet of water. We had gotten there early enough to select a suitable position and make sure the anchor was holding before the cove became crowded.

As the morning continued, more boats arrived. By the time the eclipse approached, I estimated that roughly 50 boats were anchored around the cove. There were cruisers, houseboats, runabouts, and smaller boats scattered across the water, all waiting for the same few remarkable minutes.

Waiting for the Moon

The atmosphere in the cove felt a little like an outdoor festival. People moved around their boats, talked across the water, and periodically looked toward the sun through protective eclipse glasses.

A boat anchored near us played popular songs with references to the sun, moon, darkness, or an eclipse in the lyrics. The music drifting across the water added to the feeling that everyone in the cove was participating in one large shared event.

Through our protective glasses, we watched the moon slowly move across the face of the sun. At first, the change was almost imperceptible. A small dark curve appeared along one edge and gradually covered more of the sun.

Even when the sun was mostly obscured, however, the cove remained surprisingly bright. At approximately 90 percent coverage, I remember wondering whether it was really going to become dark. The light looked different, but it still seemed much more like daytime than I had expected.

The temperature remained hot, and the humidity made the afternoon feel even warmer. The boats, music, and conversations continued as the visible portion of the sun became progressively smaller.

Then everything began to change very quickly.

When Day Became Night

As the eclipse approached totality, the remaining daylight faded much faster than it had during the earlier phases. One moment it still seemed like an unusually dim afternoon. Then, almost all at once, the cove became dark.

It was one of the strangest transitions I have ever experienced. The sun had been gradually disappearing for a long time, but the final change from daylight to darkness happened within moments.

Around that time, we began hearing fish jumping in the water. It seemed as though they had been fooled by the sudden darkness and thought evening had arrived. The boats became silhouettes, lights became more noticeable, and the familiar summer cove briefly looked like it did after sunset. I even flipped on the anchor light.

The temperature dropped enough that we could clearly feel the difference. After spending the day in temperatures in the 90s with heavy humidity, the sudden coolness was almost as striking as the darkness.

For those few minutes, nearly everyone became quiet and focused on the sky. Then we could hear cheers and reactions coming from boats throughout the cove. Although everyone had come in separate boats, the darkness created a shared moment among all of us.

Totality lasted only a few minutes. A thin edge of sunlight reappeared, and daylight returned almost as suddenly as it had disappeared. Within a short time, the cove was bright again, the temperature began rising, and the fish apparently realized that evening had been postponed.

Letting the Crowd Leave

Soon after the eclipse ended, boats began pulling up their anchors and heading back toward the marinas. Before long, most of the roughly 50 boats in Demumbers Bay were underway at nearly the same time.

We had no reason to join them. Instead, we stayed anchored for the rest of the afternoon and watched the cove gradually empty. Avoiding the rush was part of our plan. Hundreds of boats around the area would be returning to their slips, fuel docks, launch ramps, and marina entrances at approximately the same time. Remaining in the cove allowed us to enjoy the afternoon without becoming part of that chaos.

The sudden quiet after the other boats departed was a nice contrast to the excitement earlier in the day. Demumbers Bay returned to being a peaceful anchorage rather than a gathering place for an astronomical event.

Steaks and a Night at Anchor

Rather than return to Green Turtle Bay that evening, we decided later in the afternoon to make the eclipse trip an overnight outing.

We grilled steaks aboard Hunky Dory and spent the evening in the cove. After the heat, crowds, music, darkness, cheers, and departing boats, sitting quietly at anchor was a perfect ending to the day.

We left the port generator running throughout the night to support the boat’s electrical needs and most importantly, air conditioning.

Lessons from the Day

The most useful lesson from the trip was to get into position early when planning an outing for a major event. Arriving well before the eclipse gave us time to select an anchoring location, set the anchor properly, and settle in before the cove filled with boats.

It was equally helpful to plan on staying after the event. Remaining in the cove—and ultimately spending the night—allowed nearly all the other boats to return to their marinas before we moved. We avoided the congestion and turned a brief eclipse-viewing trip into a relaxing overnight stay.

The morning electrical problem reinforced another familiar boating lesson: build extra time into the schedule. Even when the boat seems ready, something unexpected may need attention before departure.