Before the Aurora tour

I was pretty eager to head indoors after trudging along in -26ºC temperatures (which felt like of -41ºC according to Weather.com). I was especially excited to warm up my feet. My stomach, however, was asking me to do otherwise. Having just finished an entire fish, a house salad, a plate of bread, and the majority of the fries that had been on my plate, I was way overstuffed. I knew that I needed to walk around a bit more in order to burn off some of what I’d eaten. 

I also knew that I should locate the my Aurora tour pick-up spot. Looking at Google maps, I saw that the specified location (the Bayside B&B) was just around the corner from where I was staying. So, thinking it would be easy to find, I walked past my B&B off in search of the building. Turns out, it wasn’t all that easy to locate. I must have walked past the little red structure three times. 

The problem was that the famous Dancing Moose café is actually located inside the Bayside B&B. So, when I passed, I thought it was simply the café, not the B&B where I would be retrieved later that evening. And so, I continued on in search of the hotel. 

However, my inability to find this B&B led me to an entrance onto the frozen lake. So I took a stroll, watching the cyclists ride by with their large snow tires, and making sure I moved out of the way as trucks drove past along the ice.

When I was feeling less overstuffed, I made my way back to my own B&B. Once inside the warm bedroom, I Googled the Bayside B&B and discovered that it was, in fact, the red building I’d passed. 

The Aurora tour wasn’t picking me up until 10:00 PM. The previous night, I’d barely been able to stay awake until 9:00 PM. There’s something about walking in the icy weather (as well as the early sunset) that makes it difficult to stay awake in Yellowknife. 

Mind you, not only would I have to stay awake for my 10:00 PM pick-up time, but I’d also have to be awake for the duration of the tour. We wouldn’t return to the city until 3:00 AM. That was five extra hours of keeping my eyes open and avoiding thoughts of a warm, cozy bed. 

Should I have napped beforehand? Probably. But I’ve never been good at napping. Instead, I wrote, read, and watched some Netflix shows I’d downloaded before my arrival in this little town. Then, at 5:00 PM, I went upstairs and made some coffee. That helped quite a bit.

Awaiting the Northern Lights tour

Finally, it was time to re-bundle myself in as many layers as possible as I braved the cold. I pulled on my base layers (plural), my fleece, my wool, and my jacket. Then I attached a toe heater to each foot. I squeezed my foot (covered in two wool socks) into snow boots and then left for the Bayside B&B. 

When I got there, the doors were locked. It was closed to everyone except guests for the evening. So I stood outside waiting for my tour. I wondered how long my layers would fight the cold for. As my first shiver arrived, a man spotted me and came out. 

“Hello,” he said. He sounded a bit suspicious and I don’t blame him. I assume he was a manager of some sort and I’m guessing he was wondering why a random girl was standing in the snowy darkness outside his hotel. 

“Hello,” I replied and immediately explained that I’d been told that I’d be picked up there. 

“Ah,” he said, “you can wait inside. They usually run a bit late.”

With that he left me to sit patiently in the lobby and stare out at the blue street from the little window above the door. It wasn’t too long before a white shuttle bus pulled up outside. I yelled a “thank you” to the man (though he was nowhere to be found) and went out to meet my tour guide. 

I was surprised to find that it was a tiny Japanese woman in beanie and fur-lined jacket. She checked my name to see that I was, indeed, on this tour and then had me follow her onto the shuttle. 

On the Northern Lights tour in Yellowknife, Canada 

I stepped inside and immediately noticed that I was the only non-Japanese person on there. Let me rephrase that. I am ethnically Japanese. But, unfortunately, cannot speak a word of it. I guess that’s what an American for you. However, the reason I knew that the rest of the group was Japanese is because I can at least recognize a few words.

I have to be honest here… Upon first realizing that the tour guide was Japanese and that everyone else was from Japan, I felt of a twinge of disappointment. Where was the burly Canadian who was going to show us the rustic cabin in the woods? I had pictured a flannel-clad, toque-wearing guide, making us soup and entertaining us when—inevitably—no Northern Lights were seen.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that I’ve previously been on tours to see the Aurora. During those tours, the skies had been too cloudy to see the Northern Lights. Yet the guides, burly Icelandic men, kept us entertained with stories of the country and folk songs played on the guitar. Or maybe it also had to do with the fact that I was alone and everyone around me was speaking in another language that I could not understand—something that made me acknowledge the isolating aspect of a solo trip. 

Of course, none of it really mattered in the end. The tour guide was friendly and cheerful and passed me a bag of extreme snow clothes that I’d rented for this tour (just in case my many layers weren’t good enough). 

The shuttle driver was an older man with a beard and glasses. He took a shortcut saying he knew which way was best for the next hotel. However, he quickly realized that he’d taken a wrong turn. I liked how he laughed to himself about his mix up. 

The final couple that we picked up spoke English. They cuddled next to each other in the seat in front of me. And then we were off. Our hunt for the Northern Lights had begun.

Our tour guide explained that we would be taking a 40-minute drive outside of the city to a cabin in the woods. 

I turned and looked out the window, dazzled by the stars that shone with a ferocity I haven’t seen in a long time. It’s always shocking to see the stars after being in a city for so long.

Then, all of a sudden, a streak of smoke floated across the sky. At least I thought it was smoke… 

I figured it was traces of something coming out of a nearby factory. But as I continued to watch out the window, it followed us. The girls behind me were also pressing their faces against the glass to look at it. It grew and shrank, ebbed and flowed. There were no factories nearby now. I wondered, could that be the Aurora? The cloudy, glimmering substance followed us as we drove. 

It was quite a long drive and I was excited when we finally got to the cabin. We all waited on the bus as our tour guide and driver braved the freezing temperatures and ran outside to turn on the generator which would heat the cabin. It took maybe ten minutes and then we all hurried into the little house. 

Once the tour participants were all inside, the driver left. He would return after our three-hours in the woods was over. 

The cabin had three little sections. The first was a place to wipe off snow and where we could use the outhouse-like bathroom. The second was the main room with a long table, a small sofa, and a few armchairs. In the back was a tiny section that had another dining table. We all took seats. 

Our tour guide was wearing a thick knit sweater (like something you’d see in Nordic countries) and a pair of puffy winter suspender pants. She started heating water on the stove and set out hot chocolate, tea, and instant coffee for us to choose from. Once the first batch of hot water was in a carafe, she threw on a big blue parka and went outside. 

Seeing the Aurora Borealis in Yellowknife, Canada

She came back in quickly. 

“The Aurora is here!” She exclaimed. 

We followed her outside then to the right. Walking down a short path we came to an open, frozen lake. Walking across its snowy surface, we looked up to see that same silver cloud that had followed us on the bus ride. It floated through the sky above the distant trees. 

I scrambled for my camera even though I knew I’d forgotten my tripod. Before coming on the tour, I thought I’d programmed my settings correctly. However, it turns out that my aperture and manual focus were way off. Not that any of that mattered. When you have that long of an exposure, you need something besides human hands to keep the camera steady. 

Still, I was going to give capturing these lights a try. I played around with the settings as much as I could before my hands started to freeze. 

Tips for taking Aurora photos:

• Bring a tripod

• Get your settings right beforehand

• Get your manual focus set on a far, far object 

• ISO 1600 to start with

• Aperture f-2.8 (or however low your camera will allow)

• Shutter speed at around 20 seconds

Trying to figure things out in the dark while your hands freeze is not the way to go about it. 

Luckily, our guide was also there to take some pictures and we each lined up to take a shot with ourselves and the Aurora in the background. 

After maybe ten minutes or so, we had to go back into the cabin to warm up a bit. I sat down in an armchair and started looking at my camera. 

The girl in front of me turned around. 

“Are you traveling alone?” She asked. 

“Yes,” I said. 

“Me too,” she responded cheerfully, “for how long are you here in Canada for?”

“Three days,” I answered.

“Three days!” She said, “that’s too short.”

“It’s okay,” I said, “how about you?”

It turns out that for the past two months she’d been living in Toronto to improve her English. Now she was in Yellowknife for the three days and was returning to Toronto for another five days before heading back home to Tokyo. 

After our brief conversation it was time to go back outside again. This time, I laid in the snow and propped the camera up on a white mound to lessen the shaking. Still, my hands were at play, so I knew it would still be a little blurry. 

In the back of my mind, something was nagging at me. Stop trying to take pictures, it said, you really don’t know what you’re doing. They’re not going to turn out that great. Why don’t you just stop and enjoy the show for a moment. 

At this time, the lights were really going. Two long ribbons dancing across the sky. And they really do dance. Though it didn’t look green or purple (except on film), these silver lights shimmered, rose, and fell. Little bursts came in and out, looking like someone was spinning them from the center of the forest. 

I tried to burn the picture of these ribbons of silver clouds in my mind before my toes went numb and I knew that I had to go back inside. 

When I got in there, I checked my camera and realized that the lens had frozen completely. I have a really old Canon DSLR. It’s from my high school days. Maybe college. Anyway, I didn’t have anything like a microfiber cloth to clean it and accidentally smudged it with my finger trying to wipe it with my soft fleece jacket. In the end, the entire lens was ruined and I knew that I could no longer take pictures with it. 

Still, I had the “pro” setting on my phone. Though I knew the pictures wouldn’t come out that great via a cellphone, I wanted to give it a try. 

The lights were only getting better, floating above us between the two dense areas of forest that surrounded the open lake that we were standing on. I took as many pictures as possible with my phone until I thought that my fingers would fall off. 

Sliding it away and tucking my hand under my armpit for warmth, I again told myself to stop and just enjoy what was happening in the sky above.

So, I stopped. I lay down with my hands behind my head and watched as the wisps of silver cascaded up and down. I looked up at the stars that were so clear and sharp it felt like they could pierce your heart if you let them. And I felt everything all at once. 

How do I deserve this? I whispered to myself. 

Lying there like that reminded me of childhood evenings spent at the desert house. How was this icy escapade was reminding me of the desert? I remember evenings, swimming in the hot tub, taking moments to stop and stare up at the glittering sky, covered in stars. Stars that I think must have only existed to me in that place.

In that quiet place, away from most other things, those stars sang to me. 

And they did the same thing here. In the northern night sky, they whispered of hope and of there being more to this world than what I confine it to. So much more than we can even comprehend. And though that thought can sometimes make me panic, it was a comfort out there in the night. 

The only thing that I wished for. The only thing that I allowed myself to consider as an improvement to this experience would be to have my mom there. She has also dreamed of seeing the Northern Lights and has chased the Aurora with me to Finland and Iceland. Now, here I was alone in the place my father had seen them, seeing them myself. 

After the Aurora

As 1:30 AM rolled around, I found that I was once again sleepy. The adrenaline that had shot through us all at the sight of the living sky was slowly fading. 

Curled up in the armchair, I nearly fell asleep as we waited for the shuttle bus to return. When it did, we loaded ourselves back in and I felt nothing but admiration for our guide as she cleaned up the cabin, took care of everyone’s leftover cups of soup and drink, and packed everything out with her while also turning off the generator. 

I must have fallen asleep on the shuttle, but I woke up at the first drop off point. I watched as each blissful group left the shuttle and returned to their hotels. Finally, it was my turn. I confirmed with the tour guide that I could, indeed, be dropped off at my B&B as opposed to the hotel. She confirmed and let the bus driver know the address. 

He mumbled something to himself.

“Do you need the Google maps?” She asked him. 

“No,” he responded, “I think that’s Sonny’s place or around there. Is that the one? Is that the one next to the Wildcat Café?”

“Yes,” I chimed in from the back. 

“Great,” said the bus driver, “I think that’s Sonny’s place. You know, I think that’s Sonny’s place.”

When we got to the B&B, the tour guide got out with me and I gave her a tip and thanked her. 

“Arigato!” I said. 

“Oh!” She laughed. “Arigato gozaimasu!” She said. 

Then in I went. I brushed my teeth and fell into bed. 

It’s hard to take in, really. I’ve wanted to see the Auroras for so many years. I think if I really trace it back, I first became fascinated with them during my “Yukon” phase. Because, yes, I went through a Yukon phase… This is the time when I first watched Balto and he creates the Northern Lights with broken glass bottles in the snow. This is also the time when I thought it’d be cool to memorize a poem about cremation by the famous Yukon poet, Robert W. Service. 

Anyway, it’s still hard to take in the fact that I’ve actually seen them. The dream has been alive for so long that I almost feel like I don’t want to have seen them. Okay, I take that back. I am so incredibly stoked and amazed and grateful and delighted. But I don’t want this to be the end of my adventures. 

Which is why I was excited to hear from my B&B owner during breakfast the following morning that they can sometimes be as colorful as they are in pictures as seen by the naked eye. In other words, there’s more for me to go after. On top of that, I don’t think it’s a bad idea to set a goal for myself of taking better pictures (with a tripod). Finally, I’d really love to share this experience with my mom (and dad if he’s down to set foot in -26ºC weather again). It would feel like everything had finally come full circle if I was with them. 

All in all, I am filled with such energy and humbleness after this experience. I will forever remember those dancing ribbons in the sky.