The feeling in Sant Antoni was nothing short of a dramatic comeback. An epic one. Much like the 2005 Champions League final in Istanbul, when Liverpool went into half-time 3–0 down against AC Milan before pulling off one of football’s greatest comebacks. Anyone who has never cared much for football but witnessed the total solar eclipse over Portmany Bay can now understand exactly what that kind of comeback feels like.
On the way from Ibiza Town, there is little to suggest that the astronomical event of the century, at least from this part of the world, could go wrong. The road is busy but far from chaotic, and the horizon is completely clear.
At Can Tomàs bridge, just beyond the sa Casilla hill, it is surprising to see people already claiming spots on the pedestrian bridge. It turns out to be an excellent vantage point over the bay, particularly for photographers looking for the perfect eclipse photo in Ibiza.
Civil Protection has restricted traffic at the entrance to the town, near the roundabout on Avenida de Portmany. There is no real problem, however. A few spaces are still available in the nearby public car park, which has recently been expanded to accommodate 600 vehicles.
A loud drumbeat can be heard in the distance. When we reach the Columbus Egg, the mystery is solved. A large crowd of young people is heading towards Avenida del Doctor Fleming, where the Feels Like Festival is taking place, featuring internationally known DJs such as Jamie Jones and Franky Rizardo.
S’Arenal beach, from the swallow boat pier to the mouth of the Buscastell stream, has been reserved for the private festival, with tickets starting at €50.
The seafront is packed. Two women are shouting in English and Spanish as they sell solar eclipse glasses for €5 each. Anyone hoping to watch the eclipse from this stretch of beach, however, is in for a disappointment: the roughly 2.5-metre-high fence surrounding the festival has ruined the view. The next option is ses Variades.
The Passeig de ses Fonts is lively, as expected in the middle of August, although it is not the best place to watch the eclipse. By contrast, Santa Agnès Street and much of the West End of Sant Antoni are almost deserted.
The only noticeable activity is a woman restoring an Okuda mural in the square created after Can Tunís was demolished. From there, Vara de Rey Street leads towards ses Variades, the stretch of Sant Antoni coastline famous around the world for its spectacular sunsets.
In the distance, a procession of people appears to be forming. “There are far more people walking past than you normally see at this time of day,” says Toni Torres, the second generation of his family to run Bar Támesis.
The Multiópticas shop window displays two large signs announcing that there are no eclipse glasses left. They sold out that morning. A desperate young tourist asks the shop manager if there is anywhere else he might find a pair.
His name is Mustafá. He is Lebanese and has been in Ibiza since Friday.
“I had no idea there was going to be an eclipse until two days ago. I found out during a conversation at my hostel,” he says.
Outside, Yolanda waits on the boulevard for the rest of her family. She is with her son and granddaughter and carrying a cooler backpack. They have travelled from Santa Eulària and are well prepared, with eclipse glasses obtained from the municipal summer school where she works.
Nearby, a group of seven teenagers, also from Santa Eulària, discuss the fact that although the eclipse has not yet begun, the sun is already dangerous to look at without proper protection.
“I have never seen so many people in Sant Antoni,” says María Antònia Ribas in amazement.
She has only had to walk a few metres from her home with her son and granddaughter to reach Caló des Moro. From there, an enormous crowd stretches along both sides of the rocky coastline, surrounded by umbrellas and coolers, all the way to ses Variades and sa Cova de ses Llagostes.
Far in the distance, people can also be seen moving around Cap Blanc and the summit of sa Talaia.
“It’s starting!” people begin shouting from all directions as thousands of spectators put on their eclipse glasses.
The Scare
With almost an hour still to go before totality, there is time to find a quieter place from which to watch the event.
But at around 8 p.m., a collective groan spreads around the small cove of ses Coves Blanques, reaching as far as the harbour.
Clouds are blocking the eclipse.
Edu Puget cannot believe it. He has closed his businesses for the afternoon so he can enjoy the spectacle with his employees. On the rooftop of Eddie’s Place, he is joined by Aya, Mohamed and José.
There are just two minutes left before the total solar eclipse, and nothing can be seen.
The feeling of having been cheated is widespread. Some spectators even take off their eclipse glasses. After weeks of anticipation and intense media coverage, could it really all come to nothing?
Then, just when hope seems to be disappearing, the eclipse returns.
After almost half an hour of disruption, the troublesome cloud finally moves away.
A deep red sliver of sunlight gradually shrinks until the sun disappears completely. For a few precious seconds, spectators can safely remove their eclipse glasses and take in the unforgettable sight of the solar corona.
There are no words.
Only spontaneous cheers rising from thousands of people — cheers that seem to echo across the entire Bay of Portmany.