Chasing solar eclipses around the world

We weren't in Australia's scorching outback by accident. We had traveled from as far away as England to witness 26 seconds -- almost 27 -- of a total solar eclipse.

The improbable site was chosen for being on the ''center line" of the eclipse's 22-mile-wide path, and for its good weather prospects. Tens of thousands of people had journeyed to other points along the track to watch the light go out. A four-day, 80,000-watt techno music rave just outside Lyndhurst had attracted more than 5,000 revelers.

Anticipation built during the hour leading up to totality -- the point when the moon would completely obscure the sun. The light dimmed gradually, as though one scrim after another was being applied to the scene. Only through Mylar eye filters could we safely observe the moon slinking in front of the sun. Meanwhile, the shadow created by this celestial alignment -- the umbra -- was racing across the Indian Ocean toward us, at a speed of 14,000 miles per hour.

A few minutes before totality, the illumination started to darken dramatically and shadows became crisper. As the moon moved to cloak the sun, the excitement was audible, capped by whoops and cheers when the sun suddenly disappeared and an exquisite white halo burst from the perimeter of the moon.

We took off our cardboard glasses and witnessed an alien spectacle. The sky above was a deep, dark blue, and the horizon in all directions glowed like a 360-degree sunset. The air had cooled, and with color drained from the landscape, the earth suddenly felt lifeless. A woman standing near me stared at the phenomenon with her mouth agape, a teardrop caressing her cheek.

And then, after not even half a minute, totality was over and it was time to shield our eyes again.

Was it worth thousands of dollars and days of travel to get to this place? By itself, not quite. But packaged with an independent exploration of South Australia's wine country and opal mines, the event was the climax of a terrific expedition.