The blog
“George from Toronto”
The sharing of secrets
Sylvia first emailed me a month ago. She and her partner William were coming to Whitehorse, and wanted to get engaged under the aurora. She was forward it wasn’t a secret or going to be a surprise, but they hoped for some beautiful photos. It felt beautiful and spoke right to my heart.
“…and I think after all of our research, you would be the best fit for our special night.”
Just a few days away from our aurora chase, I got a call from William. They were nervous about the continually changing weather forecasts and fickle nature of the aurora. He asked if I would be up for joining them on a helicopter instead - flight-seeing over the Yukon with a stop on a mountain where he could propose. And this was going to be a surprise to Sylvia. The problem, of course, was that Sylvia was in touch with me several times before and had been doing all her research. What if she recognized the way I spoke, or recognized my face.
After one final last minute change to avoid a snowstorm the day before, I arrived early at Capital Helicopters on a clear, calm -23° Sunday morning and after quietly checking in, I assumed my alias of George from Toronto; a tourist visiting for the week who was just happy to be able to get up on a last minute heli tour in good weather.
In a moment of pause just before I left my place, I realized I couldn’t wear my mukluks, insulated Canada Goose snow pants, or balaclava to protect my little frost bitten face. I needed to be slightly unprepared and definitely underdressed. Skinny jeans, clean hiking boots, and an unfortunately now trendy Fjällräven parka has to scream city boy from back east.
When Sylvia and William arrived at the office, I stood sheepishly staring at a massive wall map of the Yukon, deliberately disinterested in small talk or making new friends. I looked up, smiled shyly without really making eye contact, and buried my face back into my zipped up parka studying names of mountains and rivers on the wall 30cm from my nose.
Now on our way out to the ramp after our safety briefing, I introduced myself as George, from Toronto, who arrived on Thursday, was staying until Tuesday, and had never seen mountains like this in real life before.
It was perfect. I was absolutely glowing inside, and enjoying my well calculated social awkwardness far too much.
Sweeping through saddles of mountains, climbing up mountainsides, circling steaming waterfalls in rivers, this was I think the most beautiful I have ever experienced our planet. I was just beside myself. The aviation geek, the nature lover, the winter addict, the photographer, and the hopeless romantic who just loves love… My chest just couldn’t take it.
“No matter how prepared you think you are for this, I promise you, you aren’t.”
After our amazing pilot landed us in -28° at Rose Lake, teary eyes overtook us all and Sylvia, of course, said yes. And finally reaching in for hugs, I could share I wasn’t actually George, I was Sean from Whitehorse, who you’d been emailing with for weeks. The laughter and warmth that ensued was almost too much. We immediately had like a thousand stories to share and there just wasn’t enough time, or warmth.
“Stop I don't want to tear up before the plane.”
In a few goodbye texts on Monday morning just before they boarded their flight back south, there were some watery eyes on each side of the phone. Just a couple of guys having a genuinely soft moment.
Sometimes in life you just meet the perfect people, in the perfect place, at the perfect time, and this was every, every little bit of that.
From about 8,000ft here, above the left edge of the lake, very faintly in the distance, you’ll see Mount Logan - the tallest mountain in Canada at 5,959m.
Cat and mouse
Nights of clear breaks always require some degree of anticipation of auroral activity. These nights become more of the… not if we will find clear sky, but when we should find clear sky. Waiting or chasing, to anticipate or run with.
It’s an out of this world game of cat and mouse, except there are two mice, sometimes running in opposite directions, and you have to catch them at the same time.
“…you said it was a quiet night!”
The aurora consistently filled half the sky tonight, but without much structure or visible movement. It was beautiful, but what I felt was quiet.
‘Quiet’, when the aurora appears over half the sky, is of course, subjective.
Sighs of love
Littered throughout our night were falling stars, including in the above.
Hours passed to an ever changing, but generally quiet arc of northern lights laying across the northern horizon. I was eager to share at the beginning of the night how it’s possible for the aurora to change so quickly that you just can’t imagine it, not realizing of course that several hours later, she would change just so quickly beginning in only seconds from a few faint curtains.
Before that time, and despite temperatures dropping outside, it was just the cosiest night of warm, genuine conversation, laughter, and all things photography and stargazing.
My bleeding heart melted over love, stories, and swelled at a cuteness impossible to describe. And after hours of this, and a spectacular show, the position of the stars had swung dramatically from the beginning of the night and lights had been turned off. Warm beds were very much calling to us all.
Nervous anticipation
I’m not sure which of us was more nervous, and we were all allowed to be about the weather, but for everything else, it had to stay hidden inside. No nervous energy, no obvious hints, nothing out of the usual. Just another night on tour.
For months since the summer, we emailed back and forth over this night. There was so little we could control, but we were as prepared as we could be.
I felt lucky by comparison. I mostly knew about the weather, I knew the aurora conditions were favourable, and I knew all of what was coming, which was one of the most beautiful moments in life. I was glowing on the inside, but that was my secret until later.
In the most typical Whitehorse fashion, the forecasts weren’t great, but reality in the countryside was much, much better. We took an early start on the evening to chase clear sky up north and separate us from incoming cloud as well as we could. Our timing with the aurora looked good for the night. And the rest was just in the perfection of these two.
There is nothing I love more than love.
With clouds closing in on us, and us closing in on 3am, our night ended with one final indulgence of perfection. An auroral breakup danced beautifully overhead, and to end this night in such a way just has to make you want to believe in that inexplicable magic of life.
A love that almost hurts
The beauty sigh, heart racing, chest-so-full-it’s-going-to-explode kind of day
It was the early morning on a full day off after another very late aurora chase. I was exhausted again, or still, but I just had to go. I couldn’t stop myself. So with coffee and snacks, I was soon driving through snowfalls, sunshine, rain and gusty winds.
The forecast was a complete mess, of course, but it all just translated as ‘perfect’ to me.
Shoulder stops all the way to, and inside of Kluane, were more frequent than ever before. These were of course the most beautiful moments of my life so far, and I don’t know if I had ever known such a love and amazement in this world.
On the shore of Kluane Lake, clouds ate entire mountains, and minutes later instead of struggling to hold my hood up over my head against the wind, I could feel the warmth of the sun on my back.
I watched as over and over again, waves came crashing for the shore. The colours, and the patterns of colours all over the lake were unlike any way I had seen this place before. Even the glacial brown-grey of the water was stunningly beautiful. This was a quintessential raw northernness that fills me with the most amazing feeling of home.
