Same as it ever was

It was just like old times. Leaving town, satellite weather imagery aligned well with what we could see on the distant horizon. We chased clear skies into the sunset out west - one of my greatest fall comforts, like vegan soups and cool fresh air in through the bedroom window overnight. It was perfect.

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.

Closing in

Unsure in yet another feeling of a spring arriving much too early, I can’t decide if it’s just my lack of experience in Whitehorse, and this is the usual here - to be flirting with temperatures around freezing and seeing the outside world melt - or if this really just is the changed way of the north now.

This daytime warmth and melt is a familiarity I used to find in Yellowknife toward the middle of April, so normal or not, this still feels strange.

We’re nowhere close to the end of the aurora season yet, there are plenty of dark nights ahead still - despite that soon the sidewalks and neighbourhood streets will be dry enough for evening roller blades.

In the meanwhile as I write this, it’s +1° outside, with the sun drying up my patio. The warmth of the sun on my skin is easily identifiable and for a moment I wonder if it’s worth throwing off the cover of the patio furniture for a coffee outside.

But the last few weeks have been the closest we’ve had to a real winter this year. Nightly temperatures sunk consistently into the -20s, and low -30s. Aurora chases have taken us from barely outside the city limits to well over a hundred kilometres out in search of clear skies. We’ve experienced everything from the softest nights of the aurora to the absolute most spectacular.

Life gets really busy over these next few weeks, but I’ll be back with more again soon.

A highway chase

It wasn’t quite the way I had the night drawn up on paper, but isn’t that the way working with mother nature on multiple fronts goes.

I had hoped that after making our way some 70 or so kilometres from town, we’d have arrived under mostly clear skies. However we had arrived under mostly cloudy skies, which was a vast improvement from town, but far from ideal. Clear sky was breaking from the south west, which prompted a little running back and forth chasing clear breaks along the highway. Referencing weather maps, running a few kilometres, rinse and repeat for the first half of our night. And finally later in the night, the weather stabilized and arcs of green aurora shone through clear sky now open in the north.

Winter blues

The full moon blue night sky on a frozen lake is the heart of winter kind of feeling for me. These few months are the time of year full moons transit brightly through the sky high over snow covered landscapes. Ghostly greens and vibrant pinks dance across the horizon in front of us at -27°, and that feels so much like home.

Every one of us was bundled up tightly in our parkas, in our big boots and big mittens, faces covered, and that was a kind of comfort too. It’s a comfort of what winter should feel like and how I love it to feel like. So having to dress this way out of necessity feels almost like a privilege when so many days and nights lately just bounce between 0 and -10°. My fingers and face appreciate the warmer temperatures very much, but for my heart, the -30s are far more comforting.