To the Editor:
The State Police warned against heading north. Road congestion, food scarcity, and limited restroom accommodations would be the order of the day.

Eye doctors were on standby for injury. I decided to head up the Adirondack Northway from Albany to Westport, a little village 126 miles away on the west coast of Lake Champlain for the payoff of totality.

New Jersey plates abounded as I jockeyed the middle lane between 20 and 60 miles per hour with occasional halts. Motorcyclists flew by in between vehicles and along the shoulders, clocking 80-plus with no fear of destination failure.

Nearing the High Peaks Visitor Center at mile 100, I was ready for relief but hope was short-lived. A line equivalent in number to the mile marker lingered far out the front door, carrying Olympic bladders.

No longer a member of this club, I continued on to an empty facility-free rest stop hosted by a woodsy surround. A weaker club dispersed there, traipsing hurriedly into the snowy tree cover and watching their step to avoid previous deposits. Emptied and satisfied, I was now able to focus on the last lap to the lakeshore village.

Arriving just in time for small-town hospitality, free solar peepers, and the last perfect parking spot, I was exhilarated. High on a hill, wide paths meandered to the gentle waves lapping below. I studied for a proper vista of the eclipse that was beginning. A tiny cookie bite was visible in the warm 60-degree air.

The shoreline facing the eastern sky looked like the best bet to view the paradox of a 360-degree sunset with its red shift at 3:25 p.m., just 45 minutes out. At least a thousand friendly gatherers dotted the terrain, hailing from points south on their blankets and chairs.

Herbal whiffs perfumed the air. I scoped the trees for potential shadow effects and even brought my spaghetti colander to play games with the light.

Soon the air began to cool and I was wishing for my winter jacket and gloves left in the car. I had forgotten about the sudden predicted thermal loss. Twilight began to beckon with 95 percent of the cookie eaten.

The chill rose and all became black through my solar glasses, followed by the roar and exclamation of the crowd’s oohs and aahs. Pulling off my glasses, I beheld the crowning glory of the gaseous corona’s saw-toothed halo around the moon’s black disc in a night sky.

Stars began to twinkle and a rosy hue was painted over the lake. Then the gods Jupiter and Venus appeared for posterity. Three minutes seemed like only 10 seconds as the sun’s rays began to slip forth the daylight once again.

It signified a resurrection from a glowing crown of thorns and marked the Eastertide of this April 8th. I wanted to put more quarters in the slot to keep it going but would have to wait for my next reincarnation.

John Hargraves

Guilderland