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COOK ISLANDS 2010

We decide to watch the 2010 eclipse from Mangaia in the Cook Islands, on a tour organised
by TravelQuest International.

The other Pacific eclipse we have seen was thirty seconds long (on a cruise also organised by
TravelQuest, in 2005).  This time, totality will be more than three minutes.

Again, the Pacific isles beckoned.
Once more chase the shadow, we reckoned.
The eclipse near Rarotonga
Is three minutes longer.
That’s much less expensive per second.

Yoko and I arrive in Rarotonga a day before most of the group, and we take some time learning
how to get around on the island.  This is not too challenging.  There are two bus routes, and you
can see what the other one is.

Our first night in Rarotonga is clear and dark.  In a new time zone I wake up at three in the
morning, and despite hotel lights around, I can see the sky far better than at home in Melbourne .

I went out before sunup today.
The stars were blazing away.
As an umbraphile might,
I said “cloudy tonight”.
And then “No, that’s the old Milky Way”.
 

By the end of our second day, we have sampled the island food and music extensively.  We also
sampled some noni juice, a local speciality, which is supposed to be very good for you but tastes
foul.  The pictures show a noni tree with fruit, and the bottled end product.

  

I could live my retirement like this—
Living on papaya and fish.
I’ll swim the lagoons,
Play slide guitar tunes,
And give the juice of the noni a miss.

 By the end of another relaxing day we have slowed down to island time.  

You might watch the grass grow in the park.
You might watch paint dry in the dark.
Last night on the balcony
With a bottle of Chardonnay,
I watched Venus move ten minutes of arc.

Venus was so close to Regulus (less than a degree away) that two hours was enough to see a
clear change in relative position.

We fly to the island of Mangaia the day before the eclipse.  Mangaia is very remote and quiet,
with a population measured in hundreds, and hardly any tourist infrastructure.  As we approach

the landing strip, we can see the whole island, but (see picture) we can’t see any buildings.  We
are driven to the island school in the village of Oneroa , where several classrooms have been
converted to dormitories for a couple of days.

A year of anticipation is through.
Tomorrow morning our dreams would come true.
With excitement so deep,
It wasn’t easy to sleep.
The roosters were a factor here too.  

Roosters abound in the school’s vicinity, and they begin their chorus early.  This is no problem
for those catching the 4 am shuttle to the viewing area, and wanting plenty of time to set up their
equipment, but others are less impressed.

We plan to watch the eclipse at the airstrip, on the north coast of the island.  When we leave the
school at 6 am the sky is clear, but ten minutes later, when we arrive, the sky to the east is cloudy.
The sun rises behind cloud.  At our position, it remains covered until third contact, behind two or
three layers of cloud, and we do not see totality at all.  I believe that totality causes a funnel of cool
air, which can condense some water vapour and open a hole in the cloud.  I have seen this happen
(in Turkey in 1999) and many eclipse freaks tell stories about gaps in cloud appearing just in time
to see totality.  This time, the hole in the cloud appears just seconds after totality and we see a tiny
arc of sun.  At the other end of the airstrip, some saw the diamond ring at third contact, and at
other places on the island some people saw enough totality to take photos showing the corona.

After the eclipse, our group splits up to attend church services in various parts of the island.  We
go to the church in Oneroa, close to the school.

We mitigate our hopes being burst
By always expecting the worst.
If ahead we could see,
We’d have a plan B.
Next time we’ll go to church first.

The singing in the church could just about make you a believer.  So could the lunch supplied by
the church after the service—dozens of samples of local home cooking.

In the afternoon we do some more touring around the island, including a look at part of its
amazing system of caves.  At dusk, from the school we watch the sun set over the ocean, and
we see the elusive green flash.  After dinner, eight of us hire a local driver to look for some dark
sky.  Our first stop is a deserted back road where the sky is darker and clearer than any of us
have ever seen.  We spend half an hour gaping and taking photos, but because the road is lined
with trees we decide to go back to the airstrip for a wider view.  As we arrive, clouds appear and
gradually cover most of the sky.  On the way back to the village, the sky clears again.  Perhaps
the airstrip is cursed.

 
A main road on Mangaia, between the villages of Oneroa and Tamarua; and green flash
territory--the yard of the school.  Somewhat prettier than the schools most of us attended

The day after the eclipse, Air Rarotonga shuttles the group back to the main island, 16 at a time.
We leave on an early flight, with happy memories, and strong appreciation of the efforts of the 650
or so people of Mangaia in billeting, feeding and transporting 400 tourists—particularly the school
staff and students.  We hope and trust the eclipse was a successful fund-raiser for the school, for
the churches, and for all island enterprises.

The eclipse was a bit short of a flyer,
But we had a great time on Mangaia.
The folks are a gas,
We saw the green flash,
And we heard that Oneroa church choir.

A final few days relaxing on Rarotonga , swimming, snorkelling, and walking in the interior jungle—where we see a bug with back markings like an eclipse.  This looks
like a beetle, but it is the juvenile form of the Vivid Green Stink-bug, Catacanthus viridicatus, a sap-sucker recently introduced to the Cook Islands.

Despite our disappointment, we shadow chasers are already checking the weather prospects for
north Queensland in November 2012.

We can pack up our paraphernalia,
The eclipse, alas, was a failure.
But hope springs eternal
Despite weather infernal.
We’ll try again in Australia .

Our Mangaia hard luck story

 
Just after first contact.  Some patches
of clearish sky, we have some hope

 

   Nineteen minutes to second contact, still bits of  blue, still we hope

 

Seven minutes to second contact and there's sunlight on the ocean, heading this way Four minutes to second contact and the light is not going to reach us in time


Totality!  But all we see is darkening of the cloud, and a reflection of the corona on the
ocean (photo by Hiroaki Kuwahara) 

   
Just seconds after third contact, we see this
small arc (photo Hiroaki Kuwahara)
The tunnel of light has finally reached us
 but moments too late
    

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