The first snow

The light around my home the last few days has been breathtaking. It’s the end of October, so the sun is not plentiful. The days are shorter, and it’s more our notoriously cloudy time. I appreciate every moment of sunlight so much.

I’ve spent these days chasing golden hour, sunset, and blue hour around my home with my phone in hand, never able to appreciate it enough. It’s the feeling of winter. Short days and beautiful light. Contrasts of warm and cool - colours and temperatures.

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I spent last night on tour under a gorgeous clear sky. By the time I woke up in the morning, everything was white. Our first snow had arrived, and now it’s almost 16 hours later around 2:30 in the morning and the snow has not stopped. Maybe some 5-8cm has fallen. It was a night off for me tonight, and still I’m a night owl - of course.

This snow day has filled my heart with such overwhelming love. My breakfast and slow morning coffee, my computer work beside the window on the sofa, and my errands out in town all felt so much more of my pace and my world. Every moment today felt like how life should feel like. Cosy, quiet, slow and completely in love. Out my window now, the sky and neighbourhood glow in that magical bright white light that only fresh snow and snow clouds can give. Little fox prints surround my place outside, and inside, my radiators creak as they heat and cool off. I just don’t want to go to bed because this welcoming of winter is much too beautiful to miss a moment of.

Threading the needle

Leaving the edge of town, a guest asked how long I’ve been doing this. “This is actually my first night…” I said with some laughter, but then continued to explain it was my first night back in Yellowknife after 3 years away. “So about 10 years as a career, or 18 years kind of actively, obsessively interested in this.”

We drove further out of town to a familiar spot, trying to thread the needle between good weather now and what would still be good later as well.

Despite some cloud, forest fire smoke, moonlight and still a brighter night, the aurora was spectacular. I was amazed myself, humbled, and a little bit reflective in thought that Yellowknife really doesn’t know just how special they have it here.

It was a special ‘welcome back’ night to be sure.

The journey north begins with a single pothole

526 kilometres to Dawson City, and probably, honestly, at least 526 potholes. I have made 2,500km drives down to Vancouver that felt shorter. This wasn’t my favourite drive, but the highway views of endless rolling mountains and frosted forests were beautiful and cleansing of the near constant pothole swerving, and frost-heaves-out-of-nowhere anxieties.

A couple weeks ago, we spent a few days up in Dawson, wandering the wooden sidewalks, gorgeous forest trails, and breathtaking vistas from up above the city. It was a quiet little retreat filled with curiosity and the cosiest evenings of dinners in atmospheric little hole in the wall restaurants, and card games, snacks and tea back at our hotel on snowy nights.

“Immer hinter der Kamera laufen”

Immer hinter der Kamera laufen. Immer hinter der Kamera laufen. Immer hinter der Kamera laufen.

“Always walk behind the camera” was our mantra for the night. We huddled near to the car as we always do, and every time one of us picked up our tripod to chase the aurora around the sky… “Immer hinter der Kamera laufen!” as to not cross in front of another mid-shot.

An obvious benefit to solar maximum are nights like this one, of course. All the most amazing colours, visible to the eye and everything, along with the most beautiful dancing structures.

The weather moved fast, as it often does here, but we settled in to a great little spot under mostly clear sky. The fresh snow on the mountains was magical. It felt like a really, really special night - the kind that became engraved in my memory.

It’s so easy to be in love with this lifestyle on these nights, and now more than ever, they aren’t ever taken for granted.

Time brings all things to pass

On the first of back to back nights, clear skies abounded. Really, truly clear skies - not just Whitehorse clear. I make fun of our weather a little bit. Clear usually translates something closer to a few clouds, and overcast lands closer to cloudy periods. The other 99% of the time is partly cloudy. None of this is bad, for you. For me, it creates a little more stress than what I feel is ideal.

So this first night, clear skies were everywhere early, which meant cherry picking a favourite place under wonderful aurora conditions. If we stayed long enough, we may meet some slow travelling cloud up from the south, but it wasn’t likely, and in the end waiting that long wasn’t necessary. The aurora danced early and often.

Our second night presented an ever so slightly less optimistic scenario. The weather was pretty bad, the aurora conditions much worse, and an early morning flight departure meant we didn’t have all night.

We left Whitehorse in the rain, but with a clear direction out of town for clearing skies working their way toward us. On the drive out, I saw a dramatic change in the aurora data which perked my ears up and landed a sheepish smile on my face. There is sometimes that little bit of magic in life and in timing.

Our night worked out in the most magical way, and my love for that was never more, standing in such a different place just hours earlier.