The vanished solar eclipse

So, I am back in Portugal. To really get a good look at this rare celestial wonder, I’m traveling to the west coast of the Algarve, where I have an unobstructed view all the way to the horizon—towards a sun that is about to be eclipsed.

The last solar eclipse in Portugal was in 1912. So it’s more than understandable that this time, after 106 years, everyone wants to be there. I didn’t find out about it until I arrived here in the Algarve a week ago. And it wasn’t until today—the day of the event—that it suddenly dawned on me that I actually need protective glasses to be able to watch the spectacle properly. So—like many others I run into during my search—I scour every pharmacy and optician’s shop I can find for protective glasses—only to come up empty-handed time and time again. Disappointment sets in. A missed opportunity! I berate myself. Then I give up: so no glasses. But I still want to experience the spectacle. An unobstructed view to the west is important, because that’s where the sun will set. Best from a cliff, I think, and I drive ten minutes north to Azenha do Mar. A small town, perched high on the coast, that boasts a café-restaurant from which you can see the Atlantic Ocean stretching out below and in front of you.

The parking lot is already pretty full, so instead of going into the café, I walk down to the small fishing harbor. The road is short and steep. A family has taken a bench on the observation deck. I walk past them, continuing downhill to the fishing boats. A young couple is sitting on the quay, presumably also to watch the solar eclipse. The fishermen are going about their daily work; now, in the early evening, they’re packing up their nets and tarps. I watch as one of them steers his boat from the open sea into the bay, and another fisherman helps him moor it. On a rock offshore, I see anglers standing and casting their lines. Aside from the young couple and me, no one else here seems interested in the solar eclipse.

As the fishermen drove off in their little white vans to enjoy their well-deserved evening off, I sat down on the wooden pier between the boats and gazed out over the sea—at the sun. The solar eclipse is supposed to take place between 6:30 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. So, right now. I set my smartphone down beside me. Then my wait for Godot begins..

Azenha do Mar is located in southwestern Portugal, outside the narrow strip in the far northeast where a total eclipse has been forecast. Here in the Algarve, at least a deep partial solar eclipse is expected to be visible. It’s just after 6:30 p.m. when I record my first video.

I keep waiting for Godot. And I shoot two more short videos until the sun disappears behind the sea on the horizon.

One glance tells me: It’s just before 8 p.m. Slightly irritated, I climb back up the steep street to the café on the cliff. The chairs outside, as well as the parking lot, are now completely occupied. Even from up here, all I can see is the sea with a faint, pale streak on the horizon. Unremarkable.

The next day, I read:

“In the Algarve and Alentejo regions, which include Azenha do Mar, a deep partial solar eclipse covered about 92–93% of the sun.”

Start: Around 6:42 p.m., maximum around 7:38 p.m., end: around 8:31 p.m. I was there the entire time.

This solar eclipse will remain a mystery to me forever

Story and photos were first published on my German website; I translated the text.