We started for Hopkinsville, KY, (billed as Eclipse City) before sunrise on August 21. As we got off the interstate, there were two signs. One said “Hopkinsville,” and the arrow pointed right. The other said “Lake Barkley,” arrow pointing left. “I’ve always wanted to see Lake Barkley,” my sister Karen said; and since she was driving, we turned left. She didn’t know how far it was; she didn’t know how crowded it would be. She wanted to try it, and we did.
We arrived in good time. We set up our canopy by the beach and marveled at our good fortune. The park was uncrowded; the children, well behaved. Friendly passersby would chat briefly. Amateur astronomers compared notes on their setups. One announced “First contact!” and everyone scrambled for their eclipse glasses.
There was a collective “Awwwww!” when totality ended. While I recognize that watching the eclipse on TV was safer, I have to say that seeing one in person is best. The day was as close to perfect as a day can be.
Until we started home.
Police directed traffic away from Hopkinsville, nixing our plans for a post-eclipse sandwich. Everyone went north until traffic came to a standstill, and then we started looking for secondary roads. Eventually we found our way to the Western Kentucky Parkway. Traffic was stop and go until Elizabethtown, where the highway narrowed from 2 lanes to 1 due to road construction. (WHAT was the Kentucky highway department thinking?!) It took us 1 1/2 hours to go 4 miles.
Karen was still driving. She looked at the app on her phone that had some roads in red and some roads in green. She started flipping through the onboard navigation. “Look,” she said, “we can take this street and go here, go here, go here, and get back on the interstate where it’s green.”
“Yeah, uh-huh …” I said uncertainly. It was 1:30 in the morning, and my confidence was ebbing.
“Let’s do this,” she said. She eased the car onto the shoulder, and we got to the exit. We saw a few blocks of scenic Elizabethtown, stopped for gas and snacks at an all-night BP, and found the interstate, post-construction. We got home just before sunrise.
She didn’t know how far it would be. She didn’t know if the streets were safe. She wanted something better, and she made it happen.
I would have stayed on the interstate, trusting in what I knew. I wouldn’t have driven out onto the shoulder without being able to see the exit ramp ahead. I probably would have pulled into a Walmart parking lot to sleep for a while around 3 a.m. – probably still stuck in Elizabethtown traffic. I would definitely have sent a scathing letter to the head of the Kentucky Highway Department.
But my sister said, “Let’s try it,” and she made it happen.
The best part of an eclipse is when you can see something you can’t usually see. In this case, I saw my sister.