Total Solar Eclipse 2026

🇫🇷  Traduire en français

On 12 August 2026, a total eclipse was to cross the sky of Spain. Nothing was more irresistible than the idea of leaving Touraine under the heatwave to go and contemplate one of the most majestic spectacles nature can offer.

On the morning of 12 August, we left France to head toward the region of Burgos, near Lerma, more precisely to Santa Cecilia, to see Cartes.

As a rule, observing a total solar eclipse is prepared long in advance. Yet, instead of choosing a temporary place to stay in the region of observation, based on meteorological probabilities and other practical details, we had taken the risk of departing from France, from an accommodation near Bayonne. Thus, after having nonetheless targeted a region favourable for observation and after examining the panoramas using Street View, we set off, a group of five people, toward Santa Cecilia at daybreak, to cross the Spanish border and travel along the highways to our destination.

We drove under a hot sun, in abundant yet fluid traffic. In Lerma, we took the road toward Tordomar and stopped on a plateau above Santa Cecilia, a superb old village crushed by sunlight, just as one imagines in this age‑old Spain. Upon arriving on this plateau with its dry vegetation marked by the heatwave, a few vehicles had already taken their places, instruments set up and ready to point at the Sun. But it was only noon, and the expected phenomenon required a long wait. Indeed, the Moon was not to begin nibbling at the solar disk until around 7:30 p.m., and the Sun would disappear around 8:30 p.m. for 1 minute 48 seconds.

Our bold choice to leave France in search of a good location proved to be an extraordinary stroke of luck. But there we were: on site from noon onward, unwilling to leave our spot. We had to remain under a blazing sun, in the shade of our vehicle, and wait for several hours during which other enthusiasts - mostly French, then later some English‑speakers, and shortly before the phenomenon, Spaniards, probably locals - joined us.

The minutes preceding the observation brought a gentle tension, a contained excitement; the instruments were in place, adjusted, tested. Tension rose among the observers scattered around us. First contact occurred. A tiny bite appeared on the Sun. Time began to flow differently. Minute by minute, each person was absorbed in their task: some with their cameras, others with their telescopes, others still — and they were not the least numerous — with simply their eyes protected by special glasses. The sky darkened, the temperature seemed to drop, but was this due to the eclipse or to the end of the day, the Sun being lower on the horizon?

Then came the long‑awaited moment. The Sun showed only a single pearl: it became black, suspended in the sky, haloed by a superb corona, though weakened by the Earth’s atmosphere (1). We had to act very quickly: remove the filters, take a few shots, and above all, not forget to enjoy the eclipse with the naked eye, without stopping the image capture. There lay the difficulty faced by all observers: reconciling photographic yield with visual observation. Visual observation is incomparable to photographic imagery. But the seconds slipped away quickly, far too quickly. The Sun pearled again, the corona vanished, and we resumed a series of images of the partial phases, our hearts filled with an indescribable joy. This final series could only conclude in the atmospheric haze rising from the horizon.

Most observers had already left when we finally resolved to pack up our equipment before taking the road back to France.

The return to France took place in heavy traffic, slowed by crowds no doubt still shaken by what they had just experienced.

The eclipse was indeed over. We returned to the French Basque Country, carrying with us an extraordinary and unforgettable experience.

(1) - At 8° above the horizon, the Sun was crossing an airmass greater than 7, equivalent to more than 700 km of atmosphere, which significantly reduced the visual purity of the corona. Airmass designates the quantity of atmosphere crossed by the light of a celestial body: it is minimal at the zenith (value 1) and increases sharply as the body approaches the horizon, the light then having to travel through a much thicker atmospheric layer.

Below, on the left, the site of our observations; on the right, an animation of the phenomenon. Further down, on the left, a close‑up of the lower corona with the prominences; on the right, the corona as a whole. At the very top, all the phases of the eclipse throughout the entire event.