Watching The Eclipse From A Plane: Everything You Want To Know

Watching The Eclipse From A Plane: Everything You Want To Know
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Watching the eclipse from 40,000 feet.

Watching the eclipse from 40,000 feet.

Joshua MacLeod

There’s six of us waiting comfortably in leather seats with total-eclipse-safe glasses in hand chatting about the impending main event. “Which way should we be looking,” asked one woman. “I think to the right,” responded a gentleman. Our chit chat was then interrupted: “Ladies and gentleman, please buckle your seat belts as we prepare for take-off.” Yup, I was on a private jet in Nashville getting ready to follow the path of totality from up in the sky.

Victor Private Jets, the Uber of private aviation, had the brilliant idea to wrangle a nine-seater Hawker 1000 to fly from Teterboro, New Jersey to Nashville, Tennessee (have breakfast) and then follow the eclipse heading east, before returning back to the Garden State. While those on the ground along the cross-country path would get a few minutes of totality, being on the jet would allow us extra viewing time, being free from any cloud coverage, and panorama of the moon shadow. This was a bucket list item I didn’t even know I had.

“It’s simply the type of adventure few humans will ever experience,” said David Young, SVP North America for Victor Private Jets.

The pilots were prepped for the eclipe.

The pilots were prepped for the eclipe.

Joshua MacLeod

Once up in the air, the pilots had calculated that we actually needed to head slightly north to account for the change in perspective and speed of the eclipse. “Does anyone get motion sickness,” asked the pilot. “Because we’re going to rock the plane back and forth to get the best views.”

Within minutes of the warning, the moon began to make its move and we all attempted to take our positions. The camaraderie of coordination flowed seamlessly as we all jostled for position, sometimes craning our necks for the perfect perspective, as the plane gently tilted right and left. Six bodies maneuvered from side to side and up and back, in about a five-foot-wide (and change) space, like a perfectly choreographed dance. We took turns checking out the stunning view from the cockpit of the horizon as the darkness came on quickly.

“We’re about to reach totality,” said the pilot. Settled into position, we all went quiet and held our breath for the coveted glowing ring shot.

[Wait for it. Wait for it.]

Heading into the darnkess.

Heading into the darnkess.

Jordi Lippe-McGraw

“Wow! There it is!,” we all exclaimed seemingly in unison pointing upward. It was the moment we’ve been talking about for months, waiting for all morning, and now it was here. And it didn’t disappoint. We tried to snap pictures on our phones, but it wouldn’t do the moment justice. The totality lasted for a few minutes before the crescent shape began to emerge on the other side and seemed as if we took a collective deep breath.

Full totality from 40,000 feet is something that will be forever etched in my mind.

Full totality from 40,000 feet is something that will be forever etched in my mind.

Joshua MacLeod

“That was cooler than I expected,” said a fellow passenger. “I didn’t even know what to expect,” exclaimed another. The pilots announced our totality viewing was complete, but we’d still have a partial eclipse most of the 60-minute flight back to New Jersey.

Surely, no matter where you were in the country, it was a spectacle to behold. But, I can’t help to think that being offered a shrimp cocktail and champagne 40,000 feet in the air after the big moment was an experience only few of us were (very) lucky to have had.

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