Under Northern Lights and a Canopy of Stars

In the three months or so that I’ve been in Hay River many things have eluded me: good friends, women, fitness, and style to name a few. However, one thing that made me ache with frustration was the fact that I had not seen the Northern Lights in full blaze.

Day after day I would hear a few people around work say, “wow, the lights were awesome last night”. Night after night, I would either fall asleep early or forget about them while staying up late. The best I had seen at any point was a haze or fog, resting just across the river from my 11th floor deck. I would sit there, cigarette in hand, and wonder why the effects were not in full bloom.

One evening it hit me: light pollution. Here in town there are not a great many lights, but it does not take much to diminish the intensity of this natural phenomenon. In order to see the aurora, I would have to head just out of town to a darker area to enjoy my own private viewing.

Having the following day off, I pegged a Wednesday night as my time for shine. That day was almost like Christmas: I was excited by the prospect of finally seeing all the action, the forecast suggested a moderate-strong showing, and hours passed as though the clock battery was dying. I made it through the work day, and still had about 5 hours to kill before I could head to my decided location. I paced the apartment, walked Carter, played guitar, watched a movie, played some video games, and did anything else I could think of to kill time.

At 10:30pm, I got my necessities together and headed to a small patch on the ice road connecting the Old Town to a back road in the New Town. The ice road itself spans around 1km, and consists of ice, then land, then ice, then land, then ice, then land, as it crosses a channel with a couple of small islands in its midst. I picked the last plot of dirt and high grass, parked the truck and hopped out.

I jumped into the box of the truck and sat on the roof, almost lying back to see the Northern Lights in action. To say I was overwhelmed would be an over statement this early in the narrative, but it was rather spectacular. I was hoping for more of the acid-like effect chasing and flaring that I had heard so much about, but the broad waves of light were too far above me. They stretched to either horizon, looking like someone had painted a canvas of the darkest blue, speckled it with flicks of white from a stiff brush, and then ran several strokes of a green/blue/white mix across the whole thing. It was a beautiful sight, something I would have killed to share with someone else. A few people in particular sprang to mind as I sat in the deafening silence, a tea and cigarette my only company.

After about a half hour of taking in the sights, I decided to head back to home. My initial directive was to continue on through the last portion of the ice road, a small span of less than 50 meters that would land me on the back road into New Town. As my front tires crested the breech from land to the freeze, an audible groan seeped out below me. I patted my stomach and assured that Doritos would be consumed all in good time, but upon looking closer, it was the ice. The last patch of ice was gone, leaving behind it a gaping square the size of a backyard rink, chunky with ice and the visible danger of water. The temperatures had been enjoyable as of late, but I hastened to think they were of such beauty that the road would begin to melt off after only 3 or 5 days.
I now had fear in the back of my head. Knowing I had just traversed the first portion of the ice crossing without incident, I should have had no qualms about having to go back through it again. My front tires were on the fringe of the portion I could not cross, and it was the first time I was happy my truck was rear-wheel driven. Had I spun or caused any added stresses to the ice, I may have ended up with a rather embarrassing loss as opposed to the recent gain of the used truck. I launched back quickly and cut the wheel to heave the back end into the high grass and dirt patch. Half on the road, rear end in the brush, I again punched it and spun around to the direction from which I came and eased the 10 year old Ford back the safety of land in Old Town. As I heaved over the final push, I breathed an embellished sigh of relief.

Figuring the night was through, I was headed back to the apartment to celebrate with three fingers of whiskey over three ice cubes, my newly adored ratio. However, I was to be surprised just two minutes later driving the main drag in Old Town.

Away from most of the city lights, Old Town is dominated by the industrial side of town, and contains scattered neighborhoods. Noticeably darker, this section of Hay River lends itself nicely to viewing the lights, and as I made my way the effects grew stronger. I pulled down a side road to a section of beach, parked, and again perched upon the roof of the truck to see the sights.

With the quiet again steeping me, I felt a desire to liven up my surroundings. I took a minute to jump back into the cab and sort through the songs on my mp3 player, settling on what I deemed the perfect score for all that was unfolding above me. Side 1 of RUSH’s “2112” came alive through my speakers, the bass bins behind the seats punctuating the jagged, yet linear, bursts that announce the beginning of the suite following a spacey intro. (I could not figure out how to loop the intro, for if you know it and could see what I was seeing, you would agree it was near perfect as a soundtrack.)

With Geddy’s high pitched screams, Alex chugging along, and Neil assaulting the toms, the lights seemed to loft just above me, almost close enough to touch. Streaks of green peppered with hues of blue swirled overhead while tracts and tracers of purple and pink raced through the defined mists. I sat in awe, finally playing witness to another attraction in my move North, all the while listening to the pounding of “The Temples of Syrinx”.

Back at my apartment, I poured my celebratory drink and retreated back to my deck to enjoy a sip and a smoke in the crisp evening air. I looked out over the portion of the city that is visible from my deck and felt a momentary mix of emotions. Happiness and comfort warmed me in my accomplishing one more notch in the totem of my time here. Soon to follow were a sadness and loneliness which came from the notion of having nobody to share all of this with. Some days it does feel a terrible waste to experience any achievements here very much alone.

The bed I have made must be slept in, but to retire one night with the Aurora Borealis now engrained forever in my mind soothes all laments... at least for a while.