When I told friends and family that Sharon and I were planning a trip to North Georgia to view the total eclipse, most responded with this question: "Are you gonna photograph it?"

Truth is, I never even considered pointing my camera at the sun during the total eclipse. I figured astronomers had an advantage when it came to capturing the corona in all it's glory. (Plus, I didn't want to risk damaging my eyes or camera gear.)

So my response to their questions, generally went something like this: "Nope. I'll be photographing the people watching the eclipse." I'm a photojournalist at heart, and people are at the heart of all great photographs, at least in the eyes of a photojournalist. :)

One of my favorite photographs from my years as a photojournalist for the St. Petersburg Times is a picture of three elementary students with their heads in boxes they had made to view a partial eclipse. (Too bad I couldn't find it to post here.)

So, I was pretty sure I could find some fun, storytelling photos during the total eclipse.

What I couldn't anticipate was the photo opportunities that would present themselves during totality.

As the sky darkened, I decided that I wanted to document the "sunset" colors that appeared on the horizon when the sun disappeared behind the moon. And to tell the story of the day, I would include a silhouette of someone n the foreground.

I saw this photographer and snapped this image. But, I knew I wanted a photo with a little more visual interest and narrative information.

That's when I saw this group of folks looking up, silhouetted against the sunset colors on the horizon.

I liked the fact that you can see one person taking off his eclipse glasses. The only time you can take off the glasses during an eclipse is in totality, so showing the glasses coming off told the story. 

Two minutes and 10 seconds goes by very fast. And no sooner than I had time to snap a few images and look up at the corona, the sun began to peek out from behind the moon.

An eerie light, something like the golden hour after sunrise and before sunset--but not quite--bathed the peninsula where a group of campers had gathered to watch.

After a few more snaps, including this one of a fellow using eclipse glasses for his eyes and his cell phone, I headed back to our friends (Chris and Kathy's) camper to cool off.

On the way, I discovered these tiny eclipses projected onto the red clay. I took a few photos of the pattern the projections made on the clay, and then decided I needed a human element in the image. So there I am. 

All in all, a great day.

Will I photograph the next total eclipse? The answer is still "No." But not, just no to photos of the sun. 

Next time, I'll turn off my photojournalist mode. And instead of spending those precious two minutes figuring out how best to include people in photographs that tell the grand story, I'm going to put my camera down and simply experience the awe.

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