The 2017 Solar Eclipse Over Grand Teton National Park

For a while, I treated the 2017 solar eclipse like any eclipse I've experienced before. The moon blocks part of the sun and you use a pinhole in thick paper to project the event onto a surface. But, as I dove deeper into the information and read stories from experienced watchers, I became hooked. 

There was something new and different to be experienced in a solar eclipse totality. At 100% coverage (totality), the world gets weird and I wanted to see what everybody was talking about. Instead of any location in the path, I was determined to combine the solar eclipse with an interesting landscape as part of my new broader venture to sell large-format wall art.

Google Earth - Table Mountain is on the left and is fairly close to the range.

Photopills App for iOS - Table Mountain is the Orange Pin. The tallest peak, Grand Teton, is the Black pin. The thin yellow line is the sun and moon during eclipse to the Southwest.

Further research was troubling, though. The hike up Table Mountain was steep to the tune of 7 miles and 4400 feet of gain with no water above 9500 feet as you ascend towards the peak at 11,106'. That kind of elevation would be difficult for me without much gear on my back, but I learned that I'd need sufficient food and water, a sleeping bag, tent, filter for more water, warm- and cold-weather clothing, a heavy bear canister to store food, bear spray and finally a robotic camera shooting device that I thought would make for a unique photo at the expense of 10 more pounds (gigapan rented at LensRentals). Total pack weight clocked in at somewhere around 50-60 pounds.

I tried to prepare my heart, lungs and legs in Seattle over the next week or so by loading my pack and hiking the steepest thing I could find in the nearby Discovery Park. At the same time, my friend Chris from LA area became interested in joining me through our many text chats. We spent many hours thereafter chatting about what-ifs and how to best execute this hike and even wondering if we could even make it. We are not experienced hikers so this was a great deal of unknowns. Luckily we both found people that had recently hiked this mountain and they were willing to answer many of our questions such as permits, water supplies and how long it took them to do the hike.

I left Seattle at 1am Saturday morning and, due to several nap breaks at rest stops, arrived 23 hours later in the pitch dark of night to find a weird parking space on a dirt road. There were so many people here with the same idea and the parking lots were overflowing! I just slipped into a spot, climbed into the back and fell asleep. 

Not too far away, but still a long day's drive. I think I stopped at every rest stop to sleep...

Sunrise in Eastern Washington on I-90 heading towards Idaho and Montana

That Saturday morning, I did a trial hike to see how I handled the elevation (7500 feet) with about a 1/2 loaded backpack. I struggled through about 2 miles and 1000 feet up. I stopped, did the math and realized that I might not make it if I waited for Chris' 9pm (estimated) arrival. There were too many unknowns so I made the call to head back down to the car, fully load my pack and immediately start my hike to attempt to get as far as I could get that day. Chris was coming in late due to a shoot he was committed to near LA and I also was confident that he'd push his way up and meet me somewhere near the top. He's a pretty strong dude.

Heading up the Huckleberry Trail. Table Mountain is up in the distance to the right of the rocky peak and obscured by the hill on the right. There's a creek running along most of this trail down on the right side. Once you hit the switchbacks there's no more water.

I recharged my water and food, put the pack back on and headed up the valley trail. What amazing views! I plowed upwards to about 9500 feet and totally ran out of gas that first day. That pack was so heavy. As the sun was setting behind the mountain, I set up camp just short of the switchbacks up to the ridge. In this part of the trip, I could clearly see the destination WAY up on the hill above. 

I woke up at sunrise, collected my stuff and continued on the trail. It was fun meeting up with other climbers here for the same goal. Many of them cheered me on as I was clearly laboring my heavy pack. 

Seriously, this place is amazing. Here's the little trail just before the switchbacks. The next photo is up on the ridge at middle of this shot.

I made it through the switchback and arrived at the ridge. I was still a few miles and hundreds (thousand) of feet below my destination, but it now looked attainable. 

That nub at center is Table Mountain. You can see Mt. Owen and Grand Teton in the faded distance behind. The sun is coming up! Time to get to the top before the eclipse!

I continued up the path and to the point where the Valley and Face trails combine. There, it got much busier and I was starting to feel the time crunch as it was about 8:00 am... 3.5 hours until the eclipse. I was getting close and the trail was getting steeper. After a large rock field, I decided to ditch my heavy tent, sleeping bag and bear bin. I then rejoined the trail and heard someone behind me say, "Sean??". I turn around to see my buddy, Chris. We were close but both confessing to be at the end of our physical wits. But, we pressed on and made it to the top. 

There's Table Mountain up there ahead.

There's Chris. Not only did he make it up, but he did it in the dark and at a much faster pace than I did.

Atop Table Mountain, a probably 30x200' plateau of rock, I was initially greeted to 200 people who had made it up and claimed their viewing spots. Not everybody was a photographer so I was able to negotiate with a nice couple for a prime position close to the south edge. As I was setting up the Gigapan and talking to excited people around me, a veteran nearby was shouting out the timing and amping people up. Many people had solar glasses and were watching the moon to begin transiting the sun.

The Gigapan is all set up.

As the time neared, someone shouted to look to the west for the shadow as I put on my coat to combat the dramatic drop in temperature. Everyone on the hill sorta quieted down and peered over as it began to approach. It was amazing to see the shadow move towards us across the vast Idaho landscape which was viewable from our elevation. As the shadow approached, stars and planets became visible above and a sunset band materialized on the horizon in all directions. Then, the large bright disk of a sun QUICKLY shrunk into a small ring. Everybody lost their minds. Cheering, yelling and cameras clicking.

The eclipse is kinda hard to describe. It's kinda like watching a crazy firework explode for 2 straight minutes. It's exciting because you get to break a rule you've learned your whole life not to break: look at the sun. For the same reason, I found it hard to look at it, initially. I made a few quick glances then I set my gaze. I promised myself I would spend some time looking at this before starting any photography and I think I also nudged Chris next to me to look at it instead of adjusting dials on his telephoto camera.

I also remember that the transformation between day and eclipse seemed to have a perceived muffled sound. It is sorta a similar feeling you get when you drop something and time slows. But, as I write this I remember the 2 minutes passing in 2 seconds. So, it's both. Insane.

I spent a few more moments looking then started my robot shooting and took a few photos with my 2nd camera and wide-angle lens. I read many articles online from experienced people advising others to not photograph this event in order to fully experience it, but I made a deal with myself that I'd shoot this one because it was a one-time merging of such amazing natural landscape and a rare event, truly a product not a sum. For 2024, I'll put the camera down and really take a long, hard look. -Sean