“Oh my eyes!” - Watching the eclipse in Cleaboy
Crowds queue at Cleaboy for to look at the solar eclipse. August 12 2026.
It was a gorgeous summer’s evening in Cleaboy, and hundreds of people were on the hunt for a pair of eclipse glasses. These funky-looking contraptions became the hottest ticket in town with online forums feverishly asking where to source them before the solar eclipse.
The gentleman behind the counter at Londis confirmed that people had been asking if the shop had them in stock. Nearby the shop, cars bombarded on to footpaths, as if a county final was about to start.
It was a monumental event even if it did feel a bit anti-climatic. The next solar eclipse will happen in 2090; a baby born today, this month, this year, will be aged 63 before they can see the kind of eclipse we all saw last night.
The internet was awash with health warnings, solar eclipse facts and tips on how to construct your own pinpoint viewer (thank you Sadhbh Leahy from Dunsink Observatory!) At 6pm, the crowds started gathering at the green by Hillview in Cleaboy to witness the once-in-a lifetime event. South-East Astronomy put the call out last week about the gathering and explained how the area would be an ideal spot to gaze at the eclipse and meteor shower afterwards.
It was a festival atmosphere; lots of picnic blankets, snacks, camping chairs and a few cans shared between friends and families. Children ran around gleefully, one of them shouting out: “I can see the black! Oh my eyes!”.
At 6.15pm, multiple people were seen already wearing the glasses and setting up impressively large and expensive-looking telescopes and cameras. One or two sun-gazers were sporting welding helmets.
As early as 6.25pm, a queue to view the eclipse through a telescope quickly numbered into the dozens. A Samaritan was, allegedly, handing away eclipse glasses from the back of a car on the green. Sadly, in the chaos I was unable to snag a pair and made do with a colander and box of Crunchy Nut.
Through the pinpoint viewer, I was able to make out a few dozen crescent moons (the tinfoil took some damage on the journey over). Just after 7pm, the eclipse reached it’s peak. Though I cannot say that I fully ‘saw’ it, the light on that green was unlike any I have ever seen. It was a surreal haze of sepia, a kind of ‘bright’ darkness that is confounding to the eye. For the briefest of moments, it was if we were sat on a different planet where day and night are nebulous concepts.
Around 7.30pm, people started to make their way home. It was a rare moment of monoculture; an event that brought people of all ages together to do nothing more than watch the sky.
