Well practiced patience

My guests this night had been out the previous two nights already.

Their first night, my previous post, was a long, patient night resulting in ultimately a quiet night of auroral activity. Beautiful still, but definitely quiet.

Their second night, they waited out a thunderstorm for clearing skies to reveal a beautiful display of the northern lights. I enjoyed this night so much from home on a night off, running from window to window watching incredible lightning flashes and rumbles of thunder.

Then finally with me, our night started once again very quietly, to in all honesty, rather poor aurora conditions. But after a few hours and a lot of patience, the aurora danced beautifully overhead showing subtle colour to the naked eye. The wait was so, so worth it - as it always, always is.

The fall of the cloud factory

Even in the west - ol’ reliable - we found ourselves a little bit stuck with some lingering cloud. We were just at the edge, but couldn’t quite get fully out from under it. The cloud continually passed quickly, but for how fast it blew over, more would form just behind it.

But a few more kilometres down the highway, and a little more time passed, the clouds had finally left us with clear sky and faint but steady aurora until the early hours.

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.

Sea of love

We spent days cruising fjords, surrounding ourselves with glaciers and jagged snowy peaks. The weather changed quickly and frequently. It was cold and crisp, but beautiful. I couldn’t stand to miss a moment of any of it, which is why you could find me on deck almost always, and yes, sometimes with a bowl full of vegan chocolate pear ice cream despite being bundled up in my parka, balaclava, mittens and toque.

These final days really felt like a time of total disconnection, but reconnection to something else altogether. It was a time of reflection and slowness, and it opened up real connection to other guests and crew on board, and these were some of my favourite, favourite life moments. I could have stayed living in them forever.

Sailing slowly down these fjords, leaning on the railing on the side of the ship and just chatting our hearts away was the absolute best. It was completely surreal but there wasn’t anything that could have been more genuine. They were moments and times I’ll always, always remember and forever cherish.

I couldn’t be more thankful for every one of these experiences of a lifetime.

Walruses on the ice

A sliver of one of the beluga whales passing alongside us through a part of Smeerenburgfjorden

Zodiac landings on fast ice

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Ny-Ålesund

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Perfection - just 200g to spare!