Tales of the beautiful everyday from the North
March magic
The weather has been such an intimate part of my nights in Whitehorse. It has given the aurora chase a new meaning for me, and I have found so much more love for the process and the journey because of the challenge and opportunity from the weather here.
Our weather moves very quickly and changes very quickly. It adds such a special dynamic to the aurora chase, a further depth. The feeling of reaching clear sky after a drive or seeing the aurora appear in a break in the clouds is an incredible feeling. It’s a real magic that differs so greatly from wide open clear skies. It is a mystery and one that matches the mystique of the aurora herself.
For all of the nights of having our location determined by the weather, this night was not one of those. We left town under clear sky, and drove west under clear sky the entire way out.
We arrived to a beautiful, almost invisible-to-the-eye, arc of aurora across the northern horizon, and yet, it seemed almost inconsequential against this surreal beauty of the stars, the mountains and frozen lake.
That timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The time to soak up such a sky was just enough, and then the aurora danced, and danced, and danced.
Finally as our night with the aurora wound down, the moon rose in the south east. A warm glow creeped up in the sky, and the softest orange light began kissing the sides of mountains.
While we drove back to town, we couldn’t help but to stop at the edge of the highway to gaze at the rising orange moon through binoculars, and further along stopping to say an early morning hello the wild horses.
Paralyzing beauty
When I emailed my guests, I told them that I would like to go much earlier tonight. But I said it is taking a little bit of a risk because if we are wrong, it could be a longer night out there.
“We love an adventure so earlier is fine with us.”
So a couple hours earlier than I would normally be greeting my guests, I laughed out loud as they walked down their driveway just off the Alaska Highway. Above us, a green curtain danced.
”Yeah, a risk”, we all laughed.
Then after some minutes just admiring the perfection above, we finally jumped into the car and made our way out of town.
What a night.
“When we heard you swear, we figured this probably wasn’t normal.”
Guilty footsteps and repeating tire tracks
I had finally returned to Kusawa Lake for the first time since freeze up, and I was the first footprints out onto this pristine snow covered ice. A light guilt passed over me, not wanting to spoil any photos or such an undisturbed view with my footprints, as distinctively humble as the mukluk prints are. The step from the shore onto the lake was obvious to a good ear. The sound of the ice underneath my boot changed dramatically.
“It was the perfect, untouched winter landscape I would dream forever of.”
For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like I couldn’t make a decision that didn’t involve Kusawa Lake. Pristine, windswept snow was everywhere. It was the perfect, untouched winter landscape I would dream forever of.
It was the right place, on the right day, at the right time, so many times.
The true silence out here made time feel like it had stopped moving, and then I’d look at the clouds just a few hundred metres above fly by so quickly while the sunlight climbed the hills so slowly. The water still flowed effortlessly down the river while on the surface so much was completely frozen.
“There is no beauty like that of nature during the depth of winter. It is a world of extremes.”
On a night that demanded a lot of kilometres, and more trust in weather maps and weather patterns than I had experience of, we once again settled back around Kusawa Lake. The wind was fierce, but strangely comfortable at just -2°. Snow blew up in clouds across the highway and trees swayed violently in the forest. Pullout after pullout - cloud.
Still we had to wait for the clear skies to become reachable for us, but once they did, we were there and the stars and a few faint arcs of aurora in such a dramatic environment were worth all the trouble a thousandfold.
A needed retreat
It’s the dead of winter, and for weeks our nights lingered in the -20s, -30s, and -40s. It was the frozen lake, steaming river, dry snow crunch under my mukluks kind of winter that just makes my heart feel so free.
The aurora rose over mountain ranges and danced around the sky until all hours of the morning. Clouds moved in and passed quickly. Getting back home to bed at 5am was becoming a regular occurrence and I would wake before sunrise at 11am with heavy eyes but a full heart. It’s the best feeling kind of life and a needed retreat back into my life of old.
More recently, the temperatures have warmed and brought more cloudy skies but the chase into the countryside, during the days and the nights, for beautiful light continues on.
The magic valley revival
Thousands of kilometres away now, but the little magic valley in Yellowknife meant a lot to me. For years, it was a retreat in both daylight and under the stars. It was a quiet, cosy valley I could just hide away in. It reminded me of Norway, as much as Yellowknife could, and I think that was an important recharge for me.
"I think that was an important recharge for me."
On the last morning of showings for my then-home, and subsequently the day I sold it, I spent some hours there in this magical winter light. It’s still one of my best memories.
And then, more than half a year later, I stumble into my very own magic valley here. It was all the comfort, security, and nostalgia of Yellowknife, but Norway too, just even more special.
On this afternoon, I couldn’t stop watching in amazement of the shadows playing on the mountain sides. Chasing the light and the water up the valley just yielded more and more absolutely surreal beauty. Every moment needed another photograph. And how the light moved up to the peaks of the mountain ridges until it was all finally gone was just so beautiful. It was slow but still so fast.
Just so
Checking in on the auroral conditions a little later that night after dinner revealed far too perfect of an opportunity, despite being so exhausted, to stay home.
There was really just one choice of course, and it was to back track south once again to the magic valley. It was in so many ways just what I had been dreaming of for years. And now it gets to be my every day. That is magic.
