Last Wednesday's "ring of fire" was visible from Easter Island, the world's most remote landmass, 1,200 miles from the next.

The first solar eclipse since April 8's total solar eclipse across North America, seen by 50 million, just a few hundred dedicated eclipse chasers saw this one. It triggered clickbait articles with shock headlines like "Wednesday's eclipse might be the worst ever," the evidence being that not many people would see it. Just 175,000 lived within the path of this one, but that's normal. It was April 8 that was the outlier.

The general public -- and almost all journalists -- do not understand eclipses, but what really confuses both are eclipse chasers. Like me.

I have seen eight total eclipses and two "rings of fire" and what I don't know about eclipses and eclipse chasers is not worth knowing. We have a reputation for being wealthy jet-setters, hedonists who spend big just to glimpse the infinite for a few minutes as the moon perfectly aligns with the sun in exotic locations. We have lazy journalists to thank for that, for we are many and varied.

Last week, many of us were on Easter Island to watch an annular solar eclipse -- a "ring of fire" -- which happens when a distant, smaller-looking moon crosses the sun's center, but can't cover all of it. The peak "ring" event lasted under six minutes. It was spell-binding. Not as impactful as a total solar eclipse, but incredibly beautiful. What I also got to do is to spend some time with some of the world's most committed eclipse chasers.

"What I absolutely love about eclipse trips is that there are people you only ever meet somewhere obscure on the other side of the world," said Mike Frost, astronomer-guide with Astro Trails. "I have good friends I've met in India, Indonesia, Svalbard and many other places, and we know we'll probably meet again somewhere else in the world."

However, when it comes to eclipse day, things get serious. "Some people like to go away, set up their equipment, and not be bothered by everybody else," says Frost. "But for many others, conviviality is part of the fun."

It's actually possible to do both.

Patrick Poitevin and his partner Clare Gardner enjoyed the eclipse with the locals in Hanga Roa. Poitevin has seen a whopping 25 totals and 12 "ring of fire" eclipses. "It was perfect! We walked down to the beach with our gear, set up our two telescopes just behind the moai and out of the wind," he said. "Clare could see annularity a few minutes before the time predicted." That was a surprise, though Poitevin knew his view of the eclipse through an H-alpha telescope meant it would be extended. Eclipses are said to begin when the moon crosses the sun's disk, its photosphere, but through an H-alpha telescope, the observer sees the chromosphere, so the eclipse always starts slightly earlier. "Exactly where the eclipse started, there was a layer of prominences," he said.

Prominences are filaments of plasma and magnetic field extending from the sun, which right now -- close to solar maximum -- are a daily sight in H-alpha. "I was expecting a minute and a half or so for chromosphere thickness, but it was quite a bit earlier with that layer of prominences." Poitevin's latter analysis revealed that thanks to the prominences, for him, the partial eclipse began 4 minutes and 7 seconds before the moon began to cross the photosphere.

Poitevin and Greenwood have plans to see and study 2025's two partial solar eclipses in either the U.K. or Iceland and then Tahiti.

The latter destination may signal that eclipse chasing is indeed about luxury travel to exotic locations, but that's missing the point. Most chasers travel modestly, make financial sacrifices and overcome personal challenges to experience an eclipse. Indeed, that's the whole point. Meet Mandie Adams, from Southend-on-Sea, England -- author of the hair-raising "Chasing the Eclipse & Other Adventures" (and Miss April in the Dull Mens Club calendar) -- who's traveled to 14 totals with her trusty stuffed companion Dinky Doo. Remarkably, last week's eclipse was her second trip to Easter Island, but this one acted as closure on her last, a disastrous camping trip with bad weather and a missing festival organizer.

"There were worms in the water, no food, no toilets and no showers. We were stranded on the side of a volcano," she said. "Locals were taking us in because they felt so sorry for us." Despite the hardships, Adams enjoyed the 2010 eclipse. "The eclipse itself was amazing -- it was the only part of the trip that went well," she said. That and her belly dancing afterward, she added.

There was no belly dancing 14 years later, but unlike last time, she got to see the island's incredible moai and properly explored the island. "Arriving at the airport the day before this eclipse was surprisingly emotional -- all the bad memories came flooding back," she said.

In my group of 59 people, I met wealthy surgeons and business owners. I met teachers. I met retired people on their first post-work trip. I met people who had never traveled nor seen an eclipse, just to see what the fuss was about. Some were avid collectors who ticked off eclipses, but they also collected countries, stamps, badges, piers, Lego, and even Stonehenge replicas. Every one one of them -- from all walks of life from across the globe -- treated the event with the reverence it deserved, but they had fun.

While some had telescopes, others projected the eclipse through slotted spoons hastily purchased in Santiago supermarkets to throw ringlet shadows on the floor. They all had something in common. They shared the event, memories of past events and plans for future trips. Future plans mostly came with the qualifier "if I can afford it." As one chaser told me, you buy a new car or you travel to see an eclipse. Not both.

As I boarded the five-hour flight back to Chile, I pondered on the confusing power of an eclipse. They're just moon shadows and really only mean something because people make them matter. Eclipse chasing - or, technically, "eclipse intercepting," as Frost calls the hobby -- is, in practice, as much a social as a scientific event. Eclipse chasers that there is a place in the world, every six months or so, where they can go and be part of something, meet people from across the world that they have something in common with.

Back in London a few days later, I went to see a huge moai called "The Stolen One" in the British Museum and met up with another chaser, Lesley Bound, a veteran of nine totals and a collector of eclipse stamps, who summed up eclipse chasing perfectly. A reporter asked her about the distance and effort involved in eclipse chasing and asked "isn't it an expensive hobby?" Bound replied, simply: "I could play golf instead."

Eclipse chasing proves you can go anywhere, do anything and be part of an unlikely community. You just need to keep on asking the same question: when is the next eclipse?