I had the eclipse marked on my calendar probably 8 months in advance, but as the date grew closer I wavered on making the drive. Work was getting crazy, and the car definitely needed to be fixed before I wanted to take it on a six hour road trip. Dave never wavered though. I never heard the kind of wishy-washing that takes place before you take time off to travel to a wedding or to a family reunion. Dave was resolved to go one way or the other. So we went.
The National Park Service seemed more or less to suspend its rules for that weekend. The Shawnee National Forest, located at the southern tip of Illinois, opened campsites that had been closed for years to accommodate the influx of people but even still they were not taking reservations. All sites were first-come-first-serve. We had the advantage of being able to backpack in, which means our camping options were both more numerous and more private than many other campers would be able to enjoy that weekend. We did very little planning beyond deciding to get on the road around 6 a.m. Saturday, which should theoretically put us in Vienna, IL around noon. Which is plenty of time to hike around, find and set up camp.
The park service was not specifically advising people to go to Jackson Falls, so we hoped it would be a more private, secluded long weekend than we might find if we went to Garden of the Gods or other higher trafficked areas. We were probably right. We also made this plan expecting Jackson Falls to have plenty of water – which we learned was a mistake. The falls are dry in August, which we might have learned if we did any advance research. Which we did not.
We hiked about a mile into the park before we came to a rock slide that allowed you to descend into the canyon. When we got to the bottom we ate lunch (cheese, sausage and cherry tomatoes). Other hikers told us we could find water a little further into the canyon, the falls were dry but flowing water is hard to stop any time of year. After about another 15 minutes walking, we did find plenty of creek water. Not exactly flowing, but viable. That night we camped at the bottom of the canyon and heated a dinner of canned chili and minute rice on a fire we built on the dry riverbed.
The canyon at Jackson Falls is very popular with rock climbers. There are sandstone bluffs rise that about 60 feet above the floor and its several degrees cooler at the bottom than on the ridge. Not an unpleasant way to spend a night in Southern Illinois in August. We did move up to the ridge the following night for a couple of reasons, though.
- We could. We have the backpacks. We can move wherever we like.
- The air was somewhat stagnant at the bottom, which meant stagnant air in the tent.
- Sick of walking into spider webs. Orb weavers are EVERYWHERE this time of year. Not poisonous or harmful, but so squicky.
We did some recon the next morning and headed up to the top of the ridge to scout out camping locations before we dragged all of our stuff along with us. We found a relatively flat spot within line of sight of a group of climbers and just a short walk down the path from a big open field. The woods are amazing, and all, but we came here to watch the moon block out the sun and you can’t see that under the canopy.
Dave and I descended back into the canyon and I toted water while he broke camp. We packed up and realized we had absolutely no idea how to get back up to the top with heavy bags. We could take the rock slide we came down, but honestly that sounded kind of scary with 30 pounds strapped to your back. Other hikers had told us about a second entrance close to the falls, so we headed in that direction and started asking people. When we finally did find it, we realized this wasn’t going to be any easier with heavy packs on, so we passed the packs up instead.
It was probably another mile hike from there to our scouted spot, and at this point I think we were both more tired than we expected. The temperatures were in the 90s with high humidity, I think Dave melted a little. We did take a stroll through the open prairie. The grass had been cleared to create a fire access road, but it was also full of some gorgeous plants and dozens of kinds of butterflies. Camping at the top of the ridge was warmer, but the breeze helped mitigate that. We basically made dinner (Aldi canned chicken and Knorr Spanish rice), watched the sunset from behind the trees and went to sleep shortly after it got dark.
The next morning was the day of the eclipse. We were camping less than 500 feet from all the open skies we would need plus we had sunscreen and extra eclipse glasses. I descended back into the canyon to fill our water reservoirs while Dave packed up camp. When I got back to the top we ate granola bars, and waited the show to begin.
A total eclipse of the sun is a dictionary-definition awesome thing. Dave and I stared at the sun for almost three hours (with appropriate protective eyewear, guys, don’t be a dummy). Shortly before totality, the light became decidedly weird. Birds all hushed themselves when it got dark, and for two and a half minutes in the middle of the afternoon, cicadas and crickets started singing. The sun, which shortly before was an orange crescent, was suddenly a black circle with silver light misting around it. As the moon moved on, the orange crescent returned, this time in reverse. Birds started singing but this time it was the high, fast ups and downs of morning songs. I hope they weren’t too upset when the sun set again six hours later. If you have the chance to see it from the path of totality again in 2024, I recommend you do it.
We left the park around 3:30 p.m., headed for the nearest gas station to buy Gatorade and salty snacks and wash three days of camp off of my hands. We refilled our water bladders with that really good fountain machine crushed ice and water (perfection) and headed north on I-57, which was a terrible mistake.
It took us the next 16 hours to travel from Vienna, Illinois back to Chicago. We hit the highway around 4 p.m. and didn’t get back home until 8 a.m. the following morning. I have some pretty brash opinions on this cluster, but you know what? The whole trip was still completely worth it. Totality was amazing. Building a campfire on a dry riverbed was delightful. Nothing makes sense more than the woods, so I won’t let the worst traffic jam of my life ruin what was an amazing experience. Honestly, I don’t think there was much we could have done to avoid it aside from staying an extra day. Next eclipse, though, I’m crashing with my sister in Cleveland.
