Twinn
03/05 Eclipsed by the Mist
Eclipsed by the Mist – Halfway to the Arctic Circle
The annular eclipse of 31st May 2003
It is 04:15. A damp-edged wind is whipping off the Orcadian sea – not that the sea can be seen, as it is completely obscured by low cloud. It is the day of the much-awaited Annular Eclipse. The eye-protecting eclipse-viewers (circa 1999) are still in their packets.
A cosmopolitan mixture of people are assembled in a field, which by UK standards, ranks as close as it comes to the middle of nowhere. No hedges, no trees, no sunrise - just tired, gloomy people in vehicles, and a chilly mist all the way to infinity.
While the French and the Scandinavians are huddled in their hire cars, a bearded Englishman is pacing up and down in an animated way, holding copper rods. At least this is a bit of amusement for the Continentals; you wouldn’t see this sort of thing in Bordeaux. Eclipse-chasers may be a bit off-centre, but this guy is clearly barking.
It was no trouble to find an earth energy line on which to carry out my eclipse-dowsing experiments - I had most of an empty field to choose from.
I found a male (positive) line this time, just five paces wide. Perfect. Now for the sunrise.
The allocated time arrived, and in a brave attempt to mark the occasion in the traditionally local way, a piper had been hired to welcome the event. The piper played and the sky darkened - a bit.
Just as in Devon in 1999 and Australia in 2002, the line I was measuring widened with the oncoming darkness. The five paces became six, then eight, then ten – and with the sky in full gloom the line switched polarity from positive to negative.
Perhaps this really is the time that the ancient people found so unnerving, when all things invert. When male becomes female, black becomes white, reality changes place with illusion. Perhaps in this world Southampton win the FA cup final – the usually impeccable Pires puts an easy chance wide just before half time, then Beattie squeezes a late winner in off the post. But before Gary Lineker can ask his guests how the world of football could be turned on its head in this unexpected manner, normality is restored.
The line flips back to male and starts to shrink again. Now nine paces, now seven, now six and five. Now just another positive earth energy line in a field of long wet grass, overlooking the Pentland Firth.
The long-suffering wife of the bearded Englishman has taken refuge in the beer-tent. Except that here on Orkney it is a whisky-tent serving full Orkney breakfast and hosting a very good live ceilidh band. No place for beer-drinking vegetarians, but a little less windy – and unforgettably surreal at half past four in the morning.
The Norwegians start to make their way back in their MPVs and the French return to their hired Renaults. The English start to trudge back disconsolately through the wet field and onto the ‘main’ road. The traffic has all gone and there are a good ten miles of cold, windswept nothing separating us from our breakfast. The wife of the bearded Englishman realises there is no Plan B. The holiday has not started well.
After a couple of miles, a car arrives out of nowhere and a lady with a gentle local accent asks us with hallmark Orkney hospitality if we want a lift. The car is already full of children and luggage, but these are brushed aside to make a space for the unknown dishevelled travellers with the plummy accents. We are back at the hotel in no time and a contribution to the cost of the journey is politely declined.
‘We’ may have massacred their ancestors, used their beloved Scapa Flow as a dumping ground for our armaments and possess more Weapons of Mass Destruction than all of the world’s tin-pot dictators put together - but this morning we were still two wet human beings in the middle of nowhere-in-particular, in need of a break. Such acts of random kindness can make a profound change to the course of events.
After a hearty breakfast, the weather brightens up. We may not have seen the eclipse, but at least we were there. Arsenal’s name may be back on the FA Cup, but at least the dowsing gave clear results. The polarity did switch, the line did expand and contract. An eclipse is a time when physics and metaphysics merge magically.
So much achieved – and it’s only 08:00, day one!
Nigel Twinn
Tamar Dowsers
June 2003