Shadow Over America: The Long Road Home

Thus far the sights on our road trip have been nothing less than spectacular, but the trek through Indiana underwhelms - though to be fair, our view is limited to what we can see from Interstate Highway 65. With the clock ticking down on remaining vacation time, the priority now is getting home. But the congestion on I-65 and through Chicago on I-90 and I-94 is insane. Chicago is the largest megalopolis we've yet encountered, and it takes hours to bull our way through six lanes of full-to-bursting, bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Hours later we find ourselves in Madison, Wisconsin, a destination chosen at random that turns out to be the state capital. It's a gorgeous little city, with this capitol building at its centre, perfectly framed on all sides by the perfectly-maintained streets leading to it. The city is awash in both natural and engineered beauty, resting between two lakes, its neighbourhoods lovely, brimming with activity and vibrance. We rest easy this night.

Shadow Over America: Eclipse

When the moment comes, everything but awe is eclipsed. It is the sight of a lifetime, majestic, irresistible: nature's reminder of our place in the vast and wondrous cosmos. The moon's shadow passes over us at over 3,600 km/h, and from our location that gives us a little over two minutes of totality. We soak up every moment as we are suddenly cast into an eerie midday twilight.
And then the shadow passes, heading southeast. We'll remember this for the rest of our lives.

To Metropolis, Illinois, where even Superman himself has donned a pair of eclipse glasses. He doesn't need them, of course, but ever the public servant, he sets an example for the throngs that came here to experience totality.

The drive from Farmington to Metropolis is sublime, with winding back roads twisting through lush, gorgeous country of dense forests teeming with life. As planned, we make our way through Kentucky and Tennessee to Nashville, our original destination for this trip, made impossible by sky-high hotel prices. We had thought that prices would come down and hotels empty after the eclipse, but alas, there are no rooms at any inns for we weary travelers. Our plans to explore Nashville are dashed, and we're forced to press on - but there are no hotels in Kentucky, either, and worse, it all the traffic we avoided heading to the eclipse is visited upon us. Endless convoys of tractor-trailers bar our progress, compounded by construction that reduces the highway to single lanes. By the time we finally find lodging we're in Indiana, and the hotel, though cheap, is a disaster. We collapse on bloodstained sheets, Sylvia laying out a protective towel and sleeping in her clothes. We refuse to shower in the morning, though we desperately need it after so many hours of driving, for bathing here would only make us filthier. It is the nadir of our trip.