The sky produced two diamond rings that day. Justin had the third one in his back pocket.
Every other chase on this site belongs to Janet. This one doesn’t. In April 2023 the family sailed out of Fremantle on an eclipse cruise with no ports and no itinerary beyond the shadow itself — north past Exmouth, into the path, and back again. Two of the people on board were Justin, the youngest of the three brothers, and his girlfriend Faith, on her first total eclipse. They came home engaged. This is their account, in their own words.
How they ended up on a boat in the Indian Ocean
As eclipse planning goes, chatter about bookings and reservations starts surfacing well over a year in advance. At that age, the time window of the travel planning well eclipsed the time window of a relationship. When the bookings were made, I had been dating Faith for exactly one year — so the gap between booking the trip and the eclipse itself was longer than the entire time I’d known her. I just think that’s a funny ratio. Spoiler alert: I had no idea I was being so forward-thinking as to book my own proposal site.
Honestly, there were a few no-brainer factors. First, the family — everyone else was doing it, so naturally I wanted in. Call it FOMO. Second, it was a cruise: unlike most of the stories Mum and Dad tell, this one was all of the experience with none of the logistical nightmares. And third, the one that really tipped the scales — it was a one dollar deposit to lock in the reservation. What have I got to lose? One dollar.
I’d already been to one eclipse, Idaho in 2017, with the family. Awesome and surreal — it felt otherworldly, though ironically it was the exact opposite: entirely natural, entirely of this world. I was so excited at the idea of sharing that with my partner. It’s an experience you can only describe so far with words and pictures, so it felt like a real bonding thing to add to a shared life. And with Faith going in as a first-timer, a cruise was a nice hedge — at least we’d have a good holiday even if we missed the eclipse.
I don’t entirely remember how it happened. It was something along the lines of: my parents-in-law-to-be do this eclipse thing, we try to go as a family, family trips are great, and there’s one in Perth next year on a cruise — and we like cruises now, so let’s go! We could also visit my grandaunt, and any excuse to holiday is a good excuse.
I don’t think I had much input on the how or the what or the why. I was just following along. It was my first total solar eclipse, so it was really, really cool and exciting. I didn’t know what to expect even after all the schooling from my boyfriend’s father, but I decided yolo, let’s go.
I liked how convenient it was at sea, because we always had a bar, air-conditioning and food within reach. Especially since I was unwell on eclipse day — being that close to our room was very nice.
The part Faith didn’t know about
Faith had only a few requirements for a proposal. I would list them here if I remembered them.
Regardless, the idea of a cruise proposal popped into my head and stuck: relatively fancy, fairly intimate, we’d be surrounded by family at worst, and there were plenty of options for celebrating afterwards. I subtly tested the waters and got all the responses I needed to conclude a cruise proposal would be acceptable to her. From there the timelines and budgets fell into place — or rather, they had to.
I did tell the family I planned to propose during the eclipse, but not much more than that. And thankfully, having one successful eclipse under my belt, I had a rough idea of what to expect and when there’d be a good moment to ask without ruining the rest of the experience — for her, or for everyone standing around us.
Totality
Honestly, a lot of the excitement came before totality. Watching the crescent shadows through all the pinhole projections. Feeling every hair on my arms stand up as the moon slowly covered the sun, turning the midday heat into a cool, dusk-like sky. Listening to nature go quiet. The only way to describe it is that it felt like the end of the world, because everything was wrong.
Totality was supposed to be the main course, but everything before it felt far more intense — and then shouts of “Baily’s beads!” and “Remove your solar filters!” welcomed it in. With the naked eye the sun and moon didn’t look that different, but the whole atmosphere was. The donut in the sky became more prominent than ever — and then, before we knew it, it was over.
The eclipse itself was every bit as good as the first. But watching it through my partner’s eyes was just as fulfilling — watching the emotions move across her face when the world went dark in the middle of the day; when the harsh summer heat momentarily vaporised and left a haunting chill behind; when the horizon danced with an unnatural shimmer that no artist could invent. The shock and awe she felt that day was reflected straight back at me, and I loved it.
I was so caught up in it that I almost forgot my back pocket held a ring box, and that I’d shortly have to pick a moment.
The third diamond ring
A note on timing
Justin had one rule: the proposal could not intrude on the eclipse — not for Faith, and not for the strangers around them. Which ruled out second and third contact entirely. Sometime after third contact, he told himself, painfully aware that he would spend the whole of totality quietly overthinking it.
Third contact came and went. People were cheering and hugging and generally basking in the glow of what had just happened. About five minutes later, just as some eclipse-goers started packing up, I brought out the third diamond ring of the day.
I had a short limerick prepared to preamble the proposal. She knew exactly what was happening, but was far too overwhelmed to hear a word of it.
And as I knelt there, ring in hand, eclipse still technically ongoing, my brother quickly alerted my parents to the events unfolding. My father — ever the astronomer — jumped to attention the instant he was tapped on the shoulder and looked straight up at the sky, scanning for whatever interesting phenomenon behind him warranted the interruption.
The phenomenon was not in the sky.
It’s always a nice flex to be technically correct and say I proposed during an eclipse.
I was feeling pretty unwell, and I’d very nearly not made the trip at all — my visa came through with almost nothing to spare. A proposal was the last thing I was expecting. In hindsight it made complete sense and I absolutely should have seen it coming… right?
When it happened I was shocked. Genuinely, truly astonished. Where did that box come from and what is happening? He recited a poem he’d written and I was so busy crying from the shock that I completely didn’t hear any of it. I think I told him something about how he was supposed to ask me, and he said, “but I did.”
Touched, confused, surprised, excited and extremely paiseh — all at once. There were so many people. But they were all so nice and sweet about it, and it felt like I had everything: the experience of totality, and a ring to bring home.
Two diamond rings in the sky, and one in a back pocket, five minutes late on purpose.
Justin and Faith are married now, and both will be aboard for the 2026 eclipse off northern Spain. Their half of this story is still being added to — the ship, Ningaloo, Western Australia, and what that afternoon means to them now are all still to come.