Tales of the beautiful everyday from the North
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.
The favourite everything
I just can’t get over the beauty and the nostalgia of my early days in Norway, as I say often, maybe too often, and how my life here feels so close to those days. Choosing a highway out of town under cloudy skies was always the way we begun our evenings — sometimes passing through tunnels, other times over bridges. Our drives were long, always filled with eager anticipation, and full of interest and intrigue.
Even as I get used to and settle into my life here, the drives always feel special and spectacular, even by moonless night. We see more wildlife at the sides of the highway than other vehicles, and occasionally slow to a stop to take some moments to love on them. And this humbling feeling of silhouetted mountainscapes cutting into fields of stars has yet to become tiresome.
After more than 100km on this particular night of passing in and out of heavy rain and still under low cloud with just a few small breaks allowing a view to the stars, there was a little light and different sky texture still further on the horizon. Weather maps were clear on our direction of travel, but there remained a question of timing of course.
From a highway pull-out where I thought we may begin to see the sky break, I took a careful look through my binoculars further to the north horizon which did reveal stars and the end of this endless cloudy front. The cloud was low, so our clear break wasn’t likely to be hopelessly out of reach and as we arrived and continued further into our clear skies, the aurora covered the entire sky. Reds, purples and greens faintly everywhere.
It was one of my favourite nights in all my years of this, and it was everything I adore about chasing the aurora.
Acceptance
Driving out of my neighbourhood just before noon today for a quick gas run, 3 cars were abandoned on the side of the road off in our first snow. The roads were snowy, slushy, and ice pellets rained down, but it didn’t seem particularly bad. It made me wonder just what went on outside in the 4 whole hours I slept last night between getting home on dry roads after 4am, and waking up to centimetres of snow and ice sheets.
This is the chaos of the weather in the Yukon. I couldn’t love it more, but it’s challenging. And yes, the stop sign was dancing today, of course.
Not every night lately has been so perfect, and not every chase has met sustained clear sky, but I’m beginning to find calm in this routine of endless chaos through some cloudy weeks.
An old friend in Yellowknife taught me a lot about aurora chasing, but I don’t think he knows it, and I know he would never take credit for it.
He had endless trust in all of this - in himself, in knowledge and information, and in nature itself. And in the end, he always had acceptance in the aurora and the weather we faced there, and there was a calm around him you could feel as a result. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever been able to admire, to study, learn, and imitate. And in some full circle type of way, the end of an extremely chaotic month and a half has brought me so peacefully back into all of that love.
The good for the soul kinds of nights
It’s been far too long since my last post, but these days I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open. Late, late nights and far too much to do has led to far too little sleep. But somewhere in there is still this overwhelming love of the aurora and clear sky chases through mountainous silhouettes.
The first half of September brought quiet nights of delicate structures, graceful dances, and rainbow colours filling the skies for the better part of a week.
We snuck out of cloud often, on the run almost once per evening, as is assured here. Soft arcs of aurora on the horizon persisted through our nights, rising and falling, and rising again until ghostly structures pulsed over half the sky above us.
These were the nights of cold, humid air, endless conversation and inspiring photography with a returning friend. They are the kinds of nights that fly by, that I could live forever, and that end too soon.
Joyfully into the darkness
The first week or two of tours after the summer always have a surreal feeling. They are the first drives where again the highways are dark and headlights become automatic. It feels strange and looks unfamiliar. The love of these dark nights, clear sky chases, and mystery around the aurora all come rushing back at once and it is an overwhelming love.
For long periods these first few nights, distant loons, a few passing clouds and the autumn Milky Way were our best company. Faint arcs of aurora appeared, disappeared, and reappeared low on the horizon to the discerning eye. But for now, we reacquainted ourselves with some other heavenly wonders, like the Andromeda Galaxy among others.
Long, late nights into twilight before sunrise appeared assured from the beginning.
Finally, as twilight emerged in the northeast, out of nowhere, curtains of purple and green lit up the sky. After hours of a steady, gentle arc across the north, it was chaos - the absolute best kind.
“What do you call that? Piano keys?”
For more than an hour, the aurora danced over half of the sky, piano keys and all. The relief, joy, excitement and wonder in myself must have for sure been palpable. There couldn’t have been a better way to end my first few nights of the season.
It’s just so good to have her back.
