Nature at its most extremes
In 1999 I was in the right Area, but I did not manage to see the Full Solar Eclipse that casted its shadow over tiny Belgium.
I then swore not to miss the next one.
Fast forward to 2026 then... when Iceland, Greenland, Portugal and Spain would showcase a total solar eclipse on August 12th.
Time to plan a Family trip I reckoned, visiting La Brenne and the Ariège as stopovers, followed by Basque coast to then see the eclipse in the Cantabrian mountains. Areas I have visited multiple times and where I always saw beautiful nature.
This time, we did not just witness nature in passing—we felt it at its absolute extremes.
From severe climate anomalies to one of the most awe-inspiring cosmic events on Earth, here are four moments where the natural world showed us its rawest, most surreal faces:
La Brenne: Childhood Memories in a Scratched, Charred World
The Brenne region is famous for its wetlands, thousand lakes, and rich biodiversity.
Yet visiting the region, we were also confronted with a stark landscape shaped by intense heat and wildfire. Fire fighters had closed roads, and many places were off limits.
Standing among blackened trees and ash-dusted earth, I framed my children in the charred forest. Surreal and sobering.
All of this seemed a reminder of how fragile even these wet ecosystems have become, but also how resilience and quiet beauty persist even in the aftermath of fire:
Ariège: Autumn Colors in Midsummer
The Ariège region in the Pyrenees is notoriously known as France's wettest corner, usually draped in lush, vibrant greenery. It receives 2000mm of rain per year (compared to 900mm in Belgium)... yet stepping into the mountain forests, we were met with a troubling sight: sweeping hillsides of beech trees turned entirely brown in the middle of summer. Locals said they had never seen this.
Driven by heat stress and shifting weather patterns, the trees had dropped their leaves early to survive. Walking beneath a canopy that felt like late November while surrounded by summer air felt anomalous. A landscape changing before our eyes.
We visited both North Faces as South faces and the differences were very big:
Let us hope that the survival of species on both North and shady slopes allows for recolonization of the overheated parts of the Pyrenees. And that the old growth trees survive this "hastily adopted long winter".
Basque Coast: The Invasion of the "Poisonous Portuguese"
Reaching the rugged coastline of the Basque Country, we expected more of this. Instead, the beaches were carpeted with dozens, hundreds or even thousands of translucent, electric-blue floats:
These are Portuguese Man O' War. They look like jellyfish but are actual colonial Siphonophores. Super venomous purple jelly balloons, kinda.
Pushed ashore by unusual wind patterns and warmer ocean currents, these venomous siphonophores transformed the touristic tide line into a hazardous world.
A sail on the pneumatophore propels it about the sea, sometimes in groups as large as 1,000 individuals. What I found the coolest part, after testing it multiple times in tidal pools, is that the sail is either left or right "handed". That means that at a certain angle of wind direction, half the jellies float left, and the other float right. Further helping their dispersion. Amazing to see!
Although it superficially resembles a jellyfish, the Portuguese man o' war is in fact a siphonophore: a colonial organism made up of many smaller units called zooids. Different types of zooids fulfill specialized functions, such as hunting, digestion, and reproduction, and together they allow the colony to operate as a single individual.
A gas-filled bladder called the pneumatophore provides buoyancy that lets the animal stay afloat on the surface of the water while its tentacles, which can be up to 30m long, hang below the surface, containing venomous cnidocytes that help capture prey. The cnidocytes can deliver a sting powerful enough to kill fish, crustaceans, and in some cases, humans. You do not want you or your kids stung by these.
Humans are not proactive but excel in being reactive. And adapt.
Many beaches were closed and those that weren't, had permanent life guard patrol. If more than 10 of these arrive on the beach, the beach gets closed.
Nine is ok apparently :)
Kids are required to shout when they see one, so the lifeguard can scoop it up and throw it in the trash bin, next to ice cream wrappers.
Cantabria: Nature in its most extreme beauty: TOTALITY
After witnessing extreme weather, our journey reached its climax in Cantabria, Spain. Here, nature delivered an extreme of a completely different kind: a total solar eclipse.
We stayed in the mountains for four days, but clouds misbehaved. So to be sure to see the eclipse, we drove south for 50km.
Where I found some astrophotographers.
I just had the big Nikon, which was fine.
Billy was in the area with multiple Starling groups, and we spent a lot of time discussing possible other places. But in the end, we played it safe by choosing for a large plain vista.
I had been fleeing south from clouds, then hit a pothole and damaged two tires, our youngest son was overheating, filters had to be protected and tested etc etc. It was super stressful. But then it happened. Slowly the moon creeped in front of the sun:
As Eli noted: Isn't it totally insane that the sun is 400 times bigger in diameter than the moon, but sits exactly 400 times further?
Thus aligning perfectly with the moon. Intelligent design, some said.
When this happened, I had to think about all the hundreds of thousands of people who must have seen this in ancient times...
and had totally no idea what was happening.
After days of witnessing ecological extremes, seeing the grandeur of the cosmos unfold overhead was breathtakingly restorative—a reminder that nature’s greatest power lies in its capacity for utter wonder.
I can only hope that confronting our ecological mess under the breathtaking shadow of an eclipse jolts us out of apathy and into right action. Maybe that is why many (including myself) were so shaken by it.
More to come in the podcast.
Ciao
Karl