The day Wyoming went dark

The sticks

Crystal R. Albers
Posted 8/23/17

I first heard about Monday’s total solar eclipse a couple years ago.

This item is available in full to subscribers.

Please log in to continue

Log in

The day Wyoming went dark

The sticks

Posted

I first heard about Monday’s total solar eclipse a couple years ago. I had a coworker who was particularly excited about the event. At that time it seemed so far away, I pushed it to the back of my mind.
Before I knew it, it was 2017 and the whole county was talking about the impending eclipse. Meetings, from town council to those dedicated solely to the event, buzzed about the number of people who were likely to descend upon our state and the issues we might have in dealing with a population explosion.
I wasn’t sure whether to expect thousands of people, or if it was all worst-case scenario talk. Rumors tend to take on a life of their own in small communities, so I approach most hard-to-believe facts skeptically. Overblown unless proven otherwise.
For the most part, however, we did see a huge population influx – although perhaps not to the crazy extent some feared, or hoped, based on the amount of signs and social media posts advertising camping and, conversely, the vehicles and fencing blocking off driveways and parking lots.
Throughout the weekend, I think a lot of people were beginning to doubt the estimated number of visitors. Special eclipse events ahead of Monday were well attended, but not chockfull of out-of-towners. The roads were slightly busier, but not gridlocked, and grocery store shelves and gas pumps remained stocked.
Late Sunday into Monday, however, everything changed.

An early morning social media check confirmed the experts’ predictions that the majority of the visitors would be day trippers. Out-of-state vehicles were pouring into the state, and public parks, rest areas and temporary viewing sites were filling up fast.
Tourists strolled the streets of Goshen County’s municipalities, taking in the local scenery before the eclipse began. U.S. 85 into Torrington was busy, and we sat through two red lights before we were able to make it through the intersection near Garcia’s.
The old rest area between Lingle and Torrington was packed with more visitors than I suspect it had even seen in its glory days, and Whipple Park in Lingle overflowed with individuals looking for a grassy, clear area to stretch their legs and witness Mother Nature’s wonders.
These were just my experiences – I heard Jay Em, Prairie Center and various areas in Fort Laramie were well-populated, to say the least, as totality approached.
I was able to visit with a very friendly couple from Denmark (see that story elsewhere in this issue) and witness my hometown welcome people from all different backgrounds and varying beliefs with open arms – a stark contrast from what we see on the news lately.
Oh, and then there was the eclipse.
As the sky grew darker, there was a noticeable chill and quietness in the air – it was a bit eerie. The crickets began chirping and crescent shadows fell on the ground. I experienced totality with my husband, Adam, my mother, Cindy, and my daughter, Autumn – although she was sleeping at the time. People around us cheered, clapped and even howled in the darkness.
The 360-degree sunset and incredible spectacle of the glowing ring in the sky were unforgettable. And then just like that, it was over. Everything became bright and warm once again.
It felt like Christmas, to be honest. In that, all the hype leads up to a few magical moments, and then it’s gone, and you feel a bit empty.
As near-gridlocked traffic inched by outside, we ate a chicken dinner and discussed the wonders of eclipse 2017. Back to business as usual.