The day had finally arrived, the event for which the whole trip to the Elqui Valley was an excuse. Colin and I had come to Pisco to see a total eclipse of the sun, which neither of us had seen before. There was a lot of excitement about the eclipse, even in Concepción where it would only be partly visible. I was nervous about obtaining eclipse glasses, which are really the only equipment an eclipse viewing requires. Luckily, I received a hot tip that the Astronomy department at the Universidad de Concepción was distributing a limited number of eclipse glasses and I managed to snag two pairs. I needn’t have worried. By the time eclipse day had arrived, we had two more pairs foisted upon us by our hostel host. He had handed two to us upon walking in and then slipped another two under the door to our room, just in case.
The eclipse was going to be visible in a narrow band in the Coquimbo region, and we would be almost at the center of totality. It would start at 15:22 and totally would happen for a 2 minutes and 36 seconds starting at 16:39. Our plan was to climb out of the valley to get high to see the eclipse, as well as have a beautiful backdrop for the spectacle.
Unlike the trail from the previous day, this trail started was accessible by walking out of the village. The street Baquedano leaves the village and then makes three hairpin turns, the last of which we were instructed to leave for a dirt trail. Seemed simple enough. The day was hot and the hairpin turns were very steep. As we stopped at one of the switchbacks for water, a dog paused with us. There had been several street dogs that had accompanied us on the way out of the village. When we turned off the road onto the trail, the dog stayed with us. She decided to adopt us and would trot in from of us and turn back to make sure we were following. It was nice to have a dog guide as the trail splintered off like a river with many tributaries. Luckily, we our goal to get up to the ridge was quite straightforward, and once we got to the ridge, the only way was up.
We had gotten a late start and I was concerned about finding a good spot to watch the eclipse that wasn’t more than an hour and a half from the bottom of the ridge. I did want to get stuck in the dark. I of course brought my headlamp, but still, the sun sets swiftly in the valley. Colin really wanted to make it to the top of the mountain. Though I was reticent because I wanted to be in a good spot to watch the eclipse, we hurried to the summit. By the time we left the summit it was almost 1:30. In the end we stopped at a spot that was almost an hour further away from the bottom than I would have wanted. But, it was also a lot higher up, which turned out to be crucial.
I thought we could watch the eclipse from here.
I’m glad we didn’t.
Our destination! 
Admiring the view with the poocherino
Totality was scheduled to happen at 16:39. I remember looking at the sun’s position at 15:20 and noting that the sun would be setting behind the mountains. It looked close to them, but not nearly close enough so we set our things down on an excellent spot where the ridge formed a shelf. We sifted through the many pairs of eclipse glasses that we had accumulated and selected a pair. The dog did not care for them. Colin and I lay down to watch the show.
The show was very slow. The eclipsed glasses obscured everything except for the sun, which looked like a tiny yellow disk. The moon ate through the yellow disk very slowly, so slowly that it was difficult to notice any effect of the sun’s disappearance until finally, totality was almost upon us. We couldn’t sense a difference in the air. Perhaps it felt a bit like twilight, but perhaps we were imagining it. Only a tiny sliver of the sun was left in the glasses until suddenly, the glasses went dark. I took my glasses off. The mountains were shadowy. Then I looked up. Colin said, “The sun set!”
It was a clumsy struggle to stand up after sitting still for so long, but we looked back up the ridge and indeed the shadow of the mountain was visible a few meters ahead of us. So we sprinted up the ridge to beat the sunset. When totality did happen a few minutes later, it was not the calm and mystical experience we had planned for. Instead we were panting on a mountain side, walking backwards every few steps to make sure we could still see the sun. Luckily, there was divot in one of the mountain tops, probably a volcanic crater, that the sun perfectly fit into. It looked like it was sitting in a bowl. So, because of this crater and because we had sat much further up than we had initially planned, we did not miss the solar eclipse. It was not exactly a calm experience, I was too sweaty and out of breath from the uphill sprint to notice the change of temperature that supposedly accompanies a total eclipse, but I was struck by how crisp and black the sun disk was, and how far the white flame of the corona shot out into the sky. Then before I was able to catch my breath, it was over.
We hurried down, not bothering to watch the second half of the eclipse. The sun was setting fast. We met the first people we had seen all day at a spot about an hour and a half down where I had thought we could watch the eclipse. Definitely nowhere near high enough. By the time we reached the turning off point of the ridge, I took out my headlamp. Our intrepid canine guide was still with us. She was a lot more helpful than my headlamp for navigating in the dark.
The eclipse was an amazing experience. Especially after talking to the other people at the hostel who had gone to official viewing points with hundreds of people with very badly organized infrastructure, I was very happy about our decision to hike up the valley and sit all alone with a dog for company. Even though we almost missed it. Especially since we almost missed it.
Lauren is most purposefully taking a detour* 