Chapter 1: Arrival at Solartown

In August 2017, we found ourselves at the largest campground we had ever experienced, boasting over 5,000 sites designated for RVs and tents alike. It was the morning of Thursday, August 17, just four days before the solar eclipse, and we were eager to claim our spot.

Nestled in the high desert of Madras, Oregon, which lies directly on the centerline of totality, this small agricultural town had been the talk of astronomers for years due to its high probability of clear skies. As we made our way into the campground, we noted the influx of cars and campers heading toward the lush Kentucky bluegrass fields that had been transformed into Solartown for the week.

We were not alone; friends from different families were also in line behind us, and we kept in touch through a lively Instagram group chat dubbed the Madras Marauders. The term "Marauder," typically defined as one who roams in search of treasure, seemed fitting as we traversed from one place to another in our Airstream trailers.

The wait was lengthy, with temperatures soaring to 90 degrees Fahrenheit. “Grateful for my bathroom behind us,” one friend texted. “This field looks promising! Can we shower under the crop sprinklers?” was another quip. One of the more amusing comments was about the two nudists ahead of us who decided to leave.

After a while, we finally entered Solartown and regrouped, guided by directions like, “First left, into the sun, by the portable toilets.”

As the weekend unfolded, we heard alarming news about traffic snarls and potential gas shortages. Oregon even summoned the National Guard. But within the confines of Solartown, a relaxed mini-society thrived, reminiscent of Burning Man but tailored for science enthusiasts.

A fellow camper announced a planned eclipse presentation, and hundreds of us gathered to participate. This was simply a family that loved science, and we all felt a collective excitement. After the eclipse, we would marvel at the cleanliness of the area, with only small piles of trash left around designated bins—an impressive feat for a festival setting.

On Saturday, friends from our hometown in New York joined us, adding to our camp. They pitched a tent between our trailers, increasing our group to six families with a total of ten kids aged 7 to 14, all of whom were homeschoolers—or as we liked to call ourselves, “roadschoolers.”

Our 13-year-old daughter organized a slime-making activity, gathering supplies like glue and shaving cream. The kids chose to cover a large ball of slime with duct tape, creating a whimsical creation they named "Slimey," which they joyfully tossed around like a water balloon.

One afternoon, a fellow camper, traveling from California with his young son in a vintage Airstream, stopped by to chat. We bonded over our love for shiny trailers and the RV lifestyle. Later, he shared that he had only met full-time RV families at national-park ranger programs, where some roadschoolers could be quite intense. I assured him that our group offered a different vibe, and eventually, he and his wife decided to pull their children from school to travel full-time.

The day of the eclipse arrived, filled with excitement. One friend baked banana bread and prepared egg casseroles, while others set out champagne and Bloody Mary ingredients. We took a group picture donning our eclipse glasses and T-shirts proclaiming, “I Was in the Path of Totality in Madras, Oregon.” Photographers among us set up tripods as we mingled, played, and enjoyed the atmosphere.

As the partial eclipse began just after 9 a.m., we were still engaged in conversation, appreciating the shadows cast by the sun's changing shape. An hour later, as the moment approached, voices rang out, urging everyone to prepare. I would later read Annie Dillard's "Total Eclipse," resonating with her reflections on the event's understated start.

The day's photos and videos captured breathtaking moments—the shadows racing down the Cascades, the instant the last sliver of sunlight vanished, and the dazzling white light that followed. However, it was the sounds of gasps, cheers, and laughter that truly transported me back to that magical experience.

Back in Solartown, discussions turned to where we would gather for the 2024 eclipse, pondering whether we would still be traveling full-time and who might be empty-nesters. Could we ever recreate the magic of that week spent in an Oregon field?

As 2024 approaches, we have our answers. The Madras Marauders remain friends, but our lives have shifted; most have exchanged their Airstreams for stationary homes, with kids now heading off to college. While we may not gather in person for the April 8 eclipse, we will share the experience in spirit. The true magic, it appears, is the unique moments that remain forever etched in our memories.

Chapter 2: The Eclipse Experience

On that remarkable day, the atmosphere was electric.

Our first video, titled "Our Solartown and the award," captures the essence of our unique camping experience during the eclipse.

The excitement continued with insights on financing options for solar projects.

Our second video, "BayWa r.e. Solar Town Hall — July 22: Commercial and Residential Financing," delves into the financial aspects of solar energy, complementing our adventure.