As the sun winked out over Boiler Bay on the Oregon coast, right in the center of the path of totality and ground zero for the eclipse's path across the country, Josh Adams sat cross-legged on a picnic table meditating.
Moments earlier, a false dusk descended on the coast, the light fading from gray to mauve to an almost purple before a temporary night fell for just under two minutes.
As the last light faded away, a cheer rose from the dozens of people gathered on the lawn. The fog blocked any view of the corona, but that didn't damper the spirits of those who came from near and far to see totality. The faint odor of weed wafted and a champagne cork popped in the distance.
As the light slowly returned, Adams, 26 of Dallas, Texas, sat in a blissful state.
"It was a mystical experience," he said. "It makes you feel small, but at the same time part of something larger. It was celestial magic."
The parking lot at Boiler Bay was at capacity around 7 a.m., but with heavy clouds still lurking, many eclipse chasers packed up and sought clear skies elsewhere. Among them were Seward and Christy Whitfield, from Tillamook, and their daughter Carrie, who flew down from Alaska for the eclipse.
The trio headed north to Lincoln City where, just 10 miles up the coast, they climbed a small hill across the highway from the beach and were treated to wide open blue skies.
"It was a real crapshoot," Seward Whitfield said. But where they ended up, "it was perfect."
Seward Whitfield had seen the 1979 eclipse from Goldendale, Washington, and knew he couldn't pass up an opportunity to not only see another with his own eyes, but also share it with his daughter. She said she's never seen anything like it.
"It was like light shining off a crystal," Carrie Whitfield said.
In Depoe Bay itself, the weather played a game of chicken with eclipse chasers up until the very last minute. Barbara Robinson, who came down from Spokane, Washington, ventured out onto the bluff just off the small town's main walk.
The clouds swirled for much of the morning, including the moments leading up to totality. Just as the Whitfield's had done, she considered seeking out a cloudless vantage point, but she felt like something was telling her to stay put.
"We're just going to have to go with fate," she told herself.
It paid off.
As the celestial bodies aligned, fortune shined down on Robinson and the clouds parted as totality set in. She heard a roar from the crowd lining the sea wall in the town just across the bay. The birds ceased their songs and two dogs, in a house nearby, barked and howled.
"I'm still at a loss for words," she said as she recounted the experience hours later while holding her small and very good dog, Lily. "It was overwhelming. Just to be part of something like that. What a privilege."
But even those who stayed at Boiler Bay, where blue skies had still yet to break through the clouds by early afternoon, said they were profoundly moved by the experience.
"That was absolutely awesome," he said. "I was expecting a lot and it was way more than I expected.
"It makes you feel the power of the world. The power of the universe. It reinforces that none of this is an accident, that there's a hand guiding everything in the universe," he said.
Adams said he was reminded of some ancient traditions, which regarded fog as a bridge between the worlds of water and air. To view the eclipse through the fog took on a greater importance for him, as he saw it as a bridge between our world and the greater cosmos.
"It was a spiritual event for me.
Those sentiments were echoed by many who took in the eclipse on the coast, regardless of the cloud cover. Over and over, people described it as "amazing" and "awe-inspiring" and "moving."
Put perhaps Seward Whitfield put it most succinctly.
"If you need more than that to stir your soul, you're toast."
-- Kale Williams
kwilliams@oregonian.com
503-294-4048