It’s approaching midnight and I’m close to my destination: mile marker 133 on Alaska’s Glenn Highway, where I’m on the road to fulfilling a lifelong dream. Tonight, if the forecast app and my guide are correct, I’m going to see the Northern Lights. The northern lights.
When we finally stop at the designated spot, we are at the edge of a giant meadow. Only scattered evergreens stand between us and the horizon. No light pollution. There are no mountains to block the view.
why we write this
Our reporter travels to Alaska to see the Northern Lights. His journey takes her through darkness and cold, through a fleeting splendor of light that leaves lasting joy.
“I can’t express the joy I feel when I see the smile on people’s faces,” says my guide, Scott Stansbury of SSP Studio & Gallery. “That’s the reason I tour.”
Eventually the lights appear, then grow more glorious each time I go outside. Finally, as if playing a visual symphonic encore, a giant streak of phosphor green seems to plummet towards the treetops, covering them in a swirl of flourishes. I am smiling inside and out.
It’s approaching midnight and I’m close to my destination: mile marker 133 on Alaska’s Glenn Highway, where I’m on the road to fulfilling a lifelong dream. Tonight, if the forecast app and my guide are correct, I’m going to see the Northern Lights. The northern lights.
Over two hours ago, aurora tour operator Scott Stansbury of SSP Studio & Gallery picked me up at the Captain Cook Hotel in Anchorage. We cleared the suburbs of the city and then began a long, lonely, careful journey into the dark, the headlights of his new Kia minivan tunneling through the black forest, its studded snow tires gripping the icy road securely. .
As we meander through the mountains, a moose suddenly appears on the side of the road. Then two more! Later, Scott points to the thermometer on his dashboard. It’s minus 24 degrees outside. A microclimate. It won’t be that cold when we get there, he promises. Finally, up ahead, Christmas lights twinkle to the left. This is Eureka Roadhouse. Two gas pumps (closed in winter), a population of two dozen, and only a few miles from the 133 marker.
why we write this
Our reporter travels to Alaska to see the Northern Lights. His journey takes her through darkness and cold, through a fleeting splendor of light that leaves lasting joy.
When we finally stop at the designated spot, we are at the edge of a giant meadow. Only scattered evergreens stand between us and the horizon. No light pollution. There are no mountains to block the view. I’m Scott’s only client tonight, but whether it’s an individual or a bridal party from Japan, the professional photographer and videographer loves to come here to witness one of nature’s most spectacular spectacles and share it with others.
“I cannot express the joy I feel when I see the smile on people’s faces. There it is worth it. That’s the reason I tour,” he says in his upbeat Texas tone. They seem incongruous this far north, until you remember that most Alaskans hail from somewhere else.
I step out of the van at minus 6 degrees, wrapped up like the Michelin Man. Millions of stars shine and the Milky Way passes overhead. What looks like a gray stream of low cloud arcs over the horizon. “That is!” Scott says.
Scott Stansbury/SSP Studio and Gallery
Really? That is? I spent 13 hours on planes and airports, and then drove 2.5 hours to see a gray streak. “Patience,” she says with good humor. It will get better. Wait until 2 am That’s usually the best time.
He encourages me to get back in the warm van, which he leaves running, and to sleep (he provides me with blankets, pillows, and reclining seats). With a Wi-Fi hotspot in your vehicle, you have a lot of work to do from your phone. I’ll wake you up when something happens.
Dog sledding and aurora
Aurora tourism is a growing niche industry in arctic climates. It is often combined with winter activities like mushing, ice fishing, snow machine rides, and hot springs. Every year, thousands of tourists flock to Alaska in search of night skies that dance with neon green and other colors produced when electrically charged particles from the solar wind collide with gas molecules and atoms in Earth’s atmosphere.
The celestial ballet can be seen at the Earth’s magnetic poles when it is dark and the sky is clear. Some of the best viewing spots include Fairbanks, Alaska (the area’s viewing season runs from August 21 to April 21); Dawson City, Yellowknife and Gillam from Canada; the southern tip of Greenland; Reykjavik, Iceland; Tromso, Norway; and the northern coast of Siberia, according to the Geophysical Institute at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. The institute’s “northern lights forecast” web page is a great place to learn more about the science of the northern lights and when and how to see them.
Travel restrictions due to the pandemic froze aurora tourism for two years. While business has yet to return to pre-pandemic levels, “it’s going well,” says Kathy Hedges, marketing coordinator for Northern Alaska Tour Co. in Fairbanks, which she describes as the longest-running tour operator in the Arctic. from Alaska. The company operates throughout the year, although the aurora is the main attraction in winter.
Scott Stansbury/SSP Studio and Gallery
As aurora guides and scientists will tell you, there is no guarantee of a sighting. But Fairbanks is a statistically good bet due to its northern location and lack of coastal clouds, which can be a challenge for Anchorage. Ms. Hedges and others recommend booking at least three nights to improve your chances of seeing, with the idea that you’ll be up most of the night each time.
“On its surface, looking for auroras is boring,” he admits. “You stay there, waiting, waiting, waiting.” That is why companies offer additional activities and packages. His includes visiting the Alaskan Pipeline and dog sledding with a local musher. He can book a day trip to a farm called Joy, or a multi-night stay in Coldfoot, above the Arctic Circle.
“About to Let Go”
Scott is proud of his aurora record. He cancels when he has bad weather or a bad aurora forecast, but on his night out, he says, “I’ve only been tormented twice in five years.”
He has three favorite spots away from Anchorage and researches aurora conditions before confirming a trip, including checking with the locals to see what they’re seeing. He came recommended by the Cook Hotel concierge and his services include photos of his experience as part of the package.
On the way, he was checking out an aurora app on his phone. “She’s about to explode on us!” rejoices. “It’s about to explode!”
And eventually, it does. Every time he wakes me up and I go outside, he seems more glorious. At first, a molasses fuzz slides along the horizon. On another occasion, a broad green stripe stretches across the sky, anchored by a short tail. “See the red?” Scott asks. He makes me look through his camera. He can see more color than the naked eye. When we see aurora spikes that resemble a picket fence, he tells me they’re called “STEVE.”
Finally, as if playing a visual symphonic encore, a giant streak of phosphor green seems to plummet towards the treetops, covering them in a swirl of flourishes. I am smiling inside and out. We can go now.
