The Great Solar Eclipse of 2017 crossed the continent, from Oregon to South Carolina, and gave millions of people the chance to witness one of the most awe-inspiring events in the natural world.

But you had to be within the "path of totality", a narrow band across the earth's surface several thousand miles long but only about 70 miles wide. Outside that band you would only see a partial eclipse, not a total eclipse.

And there is no such thing as a "partial total eclipse", despite the impression blogs and the news media might give. I honestly think that's why so many people misunderstand the utter beauty of the spectacle; they may have seen a partial eclipse in the past that was total somewhere else, and even though they weren't in the path the news kept gushing about it being a total eclipse, so they assume they must have seen a total eclipse and just didn't find it all that impressive.


Posted by Dan 08/29/2017, revised 09/06/2017

The White Lake Half Pro-Am was my first race of the 2022 season. It's a long-running local race in North Carolina, which featured a pro prize purse this year, thanks to the tireless work of Aaron Kolk, a fellow pro triathlete who had secured sponsor deals and the support of the PTO (Professional Triathletes Organisation).

This race had a long, long shallow water run into (and out of) the lake, and with the "Aussie exit," (run up on the beach, make a U-turn, then run back into the water for the second lap) that meant four installments of a high-stepping 50 yard dash through shin-deep water. I had played around with this the day before, practicing my entries and exits, and quickly discovered that despite the greater supply of sea level oxygen, my general lack of anaerobic training was a limiter when it came to maximizing my vertical leap.

Still, the long-leg swimmers and natural hurdlers have a clear advantage, and there was a brief moment early on in the race where I couldn't see anyone around me and had the sensation of leading the swim. That's not really my thing, so lucky for me, Ali Brauer handled it by churning her way into a four minute lead on the rest of us. I eventually tucked in nicely behind Summer Deal, and even stuck with her when the wind sent a giant triangle turn buoy swinging right towards my face. Instinctively, I dove underneath it and porpoised my way back up the surface on the other side, which worked like a dream. Swimming like a mermaid just makes everything better.



I exited the water in fourth place, but my quick transition got me out on the bike in third. I chased down Ginger Howell and moved into second, aggressively pursuing some wattage goals that turned out to be just too ambitious for me. Or too ambitious for me that day. Or maybe too ambitious to maintain while tucked in aero position for 56 miles of the flattest course I've ever seen.


Posted by Kimberly 05/12/2022

Chiang Mai:
Chiang Mai was fun. We stayed for four days. It is much better than Bangkok.

Pai:
We travelled to Pai on the recommendation of fellow travellers, hearing only good things from people who we had reason to trust. We were not disappointed. Pai is a small town nestled in the northern hills of Thailand, very close to the borders of Burma and Laos.

The hills around Pai

Posted by nik 10/31/2008, revised 11/05/2008

21 de junio, Estacion de Biodiversidad, Tiputini

Today, I experienced the arrival of a storm in a freight train of senses.

I sat in a wooden canoe in the middle of a lake in the Amazon rain forest. In the distance, thunder mumbled and tumbled across the dense land. The sky got darker, the air got thicker. The storm made no attempts to sneak up on me, but rather used a range of pathways to indicate its arrival, in a persistent and relentless manner. It urged me to pay attention to it all, to each aspect of its existence.

In a calm, quiet lake I sat. An unmistakable hush started from far off, moving decisively closer, growing and building quickly into a clamor, a rushing train headed straight for me, through the trees and washing over the green land. I knew it was arriving. I heard it arriving. Then I saw it arriving, sliding across the water from the bank, prickling the surface of the lake as it pressed towards me.

Then I felt it. It hit my skin, it pattered off my arms, it moved in lapping waves around me, gentle yet, but sure. Then the wind. It galloped over the treetops, stirring up excited energy, and swept me up in it. It swiped across the thick drops splattered on my skin, sunk into my clothes, soaked into my hair. It blew my energy around, lashing at my previous sense of calm. The tumbling thunder moved closer, grew stronger, and urged my little boat of surrendered appreciation decisively from the center of the lake to the embrace of the bank.

This was not a dramatic flash of monsoonal expression of Power. This was Power built thick and heavy. Arrival was not simply the first step of Departure. Arrival was the arrival of a guest that stayed and settled into the corner of the couch with its feet kicked up. There wasn't a Departure, the storm simply slowly and imperceptibly faded away after time - a heavy mist snaking away to the heavens and leaving a weighty blanket sitting over everything.

It was a magical experience that colored my day... and it was, I believe, the thickest rainstorm I have ever been in.

Amazon photo album: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.864167170098.2372447.19700757&l=fbd26288a4

Posted by Whitney 06/26/2011, revised 06/26/2011