Tales of the beautiful everyday from the North
The endlessly cold and beautiful
More clear nights and more drives seeing the temperature on the car dash bottom out at -40°. It doesn’t take long at these temperatures for the tires to cool enough that the tire pressure warning light comes on.
And through these nights, our timing with the aurora has varied from arriving out with not enough time to even open hand warmers before running out of the car, all the way to my hand warmers barely feeling warm at all anymore through a long night with a lot of patience.
In all cases, the aurora was worth the rush, and worth the wait.
Painfully perfect
Too beautiful to go inside, too cold to stay outside
After a miserable first half of the month, the last 10 days have been magical. Temperatures have plummeted and the days and nights have been clear. At my dining table next to my south facing window, the warmth of the sun on my skin is undeniable, but on just the other side of these 35 year old windows, it’s -34°.
These days are full of everything I’ve always loved so much about February in the past.
The ice roads, while washboardy through some stretches, and narrowed by snow drifts through others, have led us out to the most beautiful secluded corners of frozen lakes; and on this particular night, out to one of my favourite, favourite locations ever where the aurora met us within minutes of arriving.
Unexpected relief
Everything was a mess. Or, everything was still a mess. Satellite images were a mess of chaotic lines and shapes in all shades of very-much-not-clear-sky. But on the way out of town, we drove straight into unexpected clear sky. Like clear sky, clear sky. It felt too good to be true, but it was an easy decision to abandon a further chase out for what was maybe clear sky. So we turned off to a nearby lake and while driving slowly down to the ice road, I watched nervously out the front windshield scared this wasn’t going to last.
And while our clear sky didn’t last all night, we were luckier than I could have hoped for. The aurora met us earlier than usual and danced beautifully until it was eaten up by heavier cloud that did remain for the rest of the night.
A soul sucking beginning of February
We right now sit on the cusp of returning to a more familiar Yellowknife February. Nights of -40 appear to be right around the corner, again, but for the last couple of weeks, it has felt more like November.
Nighttime lows have only barely reached the -20s, and then there’s the cloud. So much cloud. Tens of centimetres of new snow. It feels like it never stops.
My night drives have often been long, and not always fruitful. We have sometimes dramatically adjusted our schedule, exploited ice roads for a few extra kilometres of hope, and been painfully patient. The nights of everything coming together have been exhilarating, but the others have been, cumulatively, more than a little exhaustingly heartbreaking.
When you ask what do I do in the summer, and I tell you with a smile and a laugh, “just not think about the weather” — it is entirely serious, and the reprieve from stretches like this are very much needed.
A familiar story
It was a little bit of a familiar story returning to my daily life. Chaos in the kitchen and returning home hours later to what looked a bomb having gone off.
A very late booking request on a night with clear sky closing up too quickly sent my evening into the kind of chaos that I usually reserve for some alone time with the aurora when a spur of the moment decision leads me out the door in a panic.
Candying almonds isn’t a very hands off kind of dessert to prepare. Every single time I think it will be quicker than it is. I’ve always been a slow learner, so maybe next time I’ll finally remember how painstakingly hands on it is for at least 20 minutes. But it was too late to turn back now; the sugar, cinnamon, water, and vanilla were already bubbling and I was very short on time. I repeatedly tested my luck running away from the stove to get one other thing in order so I could eventually get out the door on time.
With 7 minutes before I had to be backing out of my driveway, I could finally pull the candied almonds off the stove - dump them onto parchment to cool for all of about 90 seconds before transferring a bunch into a glass container and running out my door to get this night underway.
