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AAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh. Yep, the only evening required clear – or even partly clear; July 27th, turned out apocalyptic. Mark did venture up to the West Cliff for 20:45h, sat in the car, headlights on, peering through hell unleashed, along with a few other hardy and optimistic souls.

To paint the scene, you couldn’t even be creative and photograph the lightning strikes, because the rain was so heavy, which to add insult to injury grew even heavier around the time of the eclipse moonrise. Balrogs and demons, definitely the work of a wizard bent on ruining our chances of observing. 

In the early hours of the morning – sometime, Mark did briefly see a veiled moon, but then again it may have been a dream, the nightmare already experienced earlier on. Still being reflective our disappointment pales into insignificance compared to the trials of Jean Baptiste Le Gentil. Look him up on the internet for the full story.