Eclipse up the Folly.

I had been ridiculously excited about photographing the solar eclipse from Pontypool Folly. In fact, I had been so excited that the week before I somehow managed to get the date completely wrong.

For days I had been telling everyone that the eclipse was happening on the 6th August 2026. I had even panic-bought a pack of solar eclipse glasses from Amazon, making absolutely certain they would arrive before the big day.

Then came the slightly embarrassing discovery.

The eclipse wasn’t on the 6th at all.

It was on Wednesday 12th August 2026.

So, having worked myself into a state of astronomical excitement, I now had to wait almost another week. I could hardly contain myself.

In the days leading up to the eclipse I did plenty of research online, checking the position of the Sun, the timing of the eclipse and considering where we might photograph it. Paul Joy and I discussed our plan to head up to Pontypool Folly and, as is customary with these little adventures of ours, planned the expedition with something approaching military precision.

Mr Joy was also going to be our driver.

He did, however, have concerns.

His biggest worry was that half of South Wales might have the same idea as us and descend upon the Folly. He also spent a considerable amount of time winding me up, repeatedly informing me that there was absolutely no chance whatsoever that I was going to get both the eclipse and the Folly in the same photograph.

He may even have been right.

Not that I was going to admit it.

Nothing was going to dampen my enthusiasm. I sometimes think Paul lives for the constant banter that accompanies our photographic adventures.

Eventually, after what had felt like an extraordinarily long week, five o'clock arrived on Wednesday evening.

I was rushing out of the house carrying cameras, telescopes, tripods, filters, solar glasses and enough equipment to suggest that we were mounting a small scientific expedition rather than driving a few miles up the road.

Paul Coombes jumped into the car with the enthusiasm of a soldier boarding an army helicopter about to be dropped behind enemy lines.

And we were off.

Getting to the Folly turned out to be an adventure in itself.

Pontypool has felt rather like a war zone recently, with roads closed because of a murder investigation and further routes affected by the wildfires. After a slight detour, though, Lady Luck seemed to be looking favourably upon us and we eventually made it to the Folly without too much difficulty.

Our driver had done well.

Although I think Paul Joy may also have broken some sort of record for the number of times it is possible to stall a car during one relatively short journey.

When we arrived, there were only a couple of people around the Folly.

Perhaps Paul’s fears about the crowds had been unfounded.

Not for long.

Slowly, people began appearing from every direction. Families arrived with their children, followed by couples, dog walkers and groups of teenagers. Before long there was a lovely little gathering on the ridge, everyone looking towards the western sky and waiting for the eclipse.

There was a really pleasant atmosphere.

Paul Joy and I found ourselves a good position near the Folly while Paul Coombes immediately went into full commando mode.

He disappeared towards the edge of the gathering and did his best to blend invisibly into the grass, presumably hoping nobody would notice the enormous bazooka-sized lens pointing towards the Sun.

Attached to the front was a solar filter approximately the size of a spacecraft re-entry shield.

Subtle it was not.

One of the nicest things about the evening was being able to share what we were seeing with other people. Using our DWARF telescopes and cameras, we could show live views of the eclipse on our screens.

Children came over to have a look. Parents stopped to ask questions. People who had simply wandered up to the Folly for an evening walk suddenly found themselves watching the Moon slowly move across the face of the Sun.

I had brought a couple of pairs of solar eclipse glasses and was more than happy to share them.

At one point I lent a pair to a father and his son. They were extremely appreciative and, a little later, the son returned carrying a bottle of beer for me.

Under normal circumstances a bottle of beer is always welcome.

On a warm August evening, standing on an exposed ridge beside Pontypool Folly while photographing a solar eclipse, it tasted like an elixir.

The eclipse itself was magnificent.

From our position in South Wales this was a deep partial solar eclipse, rather than totality, but an enormous portion of the Sun disappeared behind the Moon. Through the filtered cameras and telescopes the familiar blazing disc of the Sun was gradually transformed into an increasingly slender crescent.

I had set my Dwarf 3 digital telescope running a time-lapse sequence and left it recording for around an hour and a half.

When the whole sequence was eventually compressed down, ninety minutes of celestial mechanics became just fourteen seconds.

There was quite a bit of wind on the ridge, so the resulting video is a little shaky in places, and at one point a bank of cloud drifted across and obscured the Sun. Thankfully, for most of the eclipse the sky remained clear enough for us to enjoy and photograph it.

Watching the Moon move across the Sun in real time is slow and almost imperceptible.

Uploaded still images from my timelapse and utilised AI to create this diagram.

Watching the same event condensed into fourteen seconds is completely different. Suddenly the movement of the Moon becomes obvious as it sweeps across the solar disc before gradually releasing the Sun again.

But for me, the evening became about much more than simply getting photographs.

There was something rather special about seeing people of all ages gathered around the Folly sharing the same experience.

Families passed around eclipse glasses. Children stared at our screens. Teenagers stopped to see what was happening. Complete strangers chatted to one another about the Sun, the Moon and photography.

For a short while, everyone on that hillside was looking in the same direction.

As the eclipse progressed, people gradually began making their way home.

The crowd became smaller and smaller until, eventually, there were just three of us left.

Naturally, I still wasn't ready to leave.

The Sun was now dropping towards the horizon and I had another idea.

I wanted to fly the drone.

After spending the evening photographing the Sun through solar filters, I wanted to finish by capturing its final rays as it disappeared towards the horizon.

I launched the drone and, for the first time, managed to photograph a sunset while visiting Pontypool Folly.

It seemed a fitting way to end the evening.

We had gone there expecting a photographic challenge, but what I will probably remember most is the atmosphere: standing beside the Folly with two good friends, sharing our solar glasses and telescope screens with complete strangers and watching children experience an eclipse for themselves.

There will, of course, be other eclipses.

In fact, another partial solar eclipse will be visible from Britain on 2nd August 2027, although it will not be anything like as dramatic as the eclipse we watched from the Folly.

But if I want to stand somewhere in Britain beneath the shadow of a total solar eclipse, I am going to need considerably more patience.

The next total solar eclipse visible from the UK will take place on 23rd September 2090.

That is another sixty-four years away.

A solar eclipse is a remarkable astronomical event in its own right, but sharing it with friends and strangers on a warm August evening beside one of my favourite local landmarks made it something considerably more memorable.