My heart goes out to the Cornish people. It's been a tough summer in that sublime resort area at the southwest tip of England. A former center of farming, and then mining, Cornwall's economy now rises and falls with the tide of tourism. This summer should have been a boost.

Indeed, the stars were right for Cornwall on Wednesday when the moon went in front of the sun and its shadow fell on the region for more than two minutes. Two million visitors were expected in Cornwall, the only part of England in the path of totality. But the story of this once-in-a-lifetime event is a sad commentary on the power of the media to interfere with destiny, even one as sure as the sun.

It's no wonder authorities expected a tourist boom this week--the experience of a total eclipse is said to be like no other--and Britain has not been in the path of a total eclipse since 1927. The world is in bright sunshine one minute then plunges into an eerie nighttime. Birds fly to their roosts, dogs howl and the moon is surrounded by a blue corona.

During the eclipse, I was in a London office building. Even though the eclipse only reached 97 percent totality here, I was awestruck. The temperature dropped and the sky grew dark. I glanced at the sun, peaking out from behind a dark orb.

The spectacle of the eclipse was fascinating. It is nice to see that a natural phenomenon can still draw crowds, even in a busy, modern place like London. From my spot on a rooftop, I peered into neighboring buildings. The offices were empty and the streets were filled with suits. No cars passed by.

But in Cornwall, tourist authorities, in collaboration with the media, scared people away from what could have been an experience of a lifetime.

Fearing that the eclipse would mean chaos or civil unrest, media coverage of the event has been overwhelmingly negative. The Cornwall tourist board trumpeted slogans like "come early, stay long, leave late," British Rail added 21 extra trains during the week and last November the Cornish Local Medical Committee urged prospective parents to avoid conceiving, in the expectation that gridlock caused by the eclipse would prevent them from reaching maternity units.

I read these reports and warnings, and almost canceled a trip I had planned to Cornwall last weekend. I was going for the beaches, cliffs and seaside towns, a break from the dirty city air. The reports made me think I would have to stand during the six hour train ride, push through crowds on tiny streets and fight for a spot on the sand. But I was fixated on Cornwall, and left for the coast with one of my friends.

"Are you sure about this, Barbara? It sounds terrifying," my friend wrote in an e-mail to me the day before we were to begin our journey.