March magic

The weather has been such an intimate part of my nights in Whitehorse. It has given the aurora chase a new meaning for me, and I have found so much more love for the process and the journey because of the challenge and opportunity from the weather here.

Our weather moves very quickly and changes very quickly. It adds such a special dynamic to the aurora chase, a further depth. The feeling of reaching clear sky after a drive or seeing the aurora appear in a break in the clouds is an incredible feeling. It’s a real magic that differs so greatly from wide open clear skies. It is a mystery and one that matches the mystique of the aurora herself.

For all of the nights of having our location determined by the weather, this night was not one of those. We left town under clear sky, and drove west under clear sky the entire way out.

We arrived to a beautiful, almost invisible-to-the-eye, arc of aurora across the northern horizon, and yet, it seemed almost inconsequential against this surreal beauty of the stars, the mountains and frozen lake.

That timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The time to soak up such a sky was just enough, and then the aurora danced, and danced, and danced.

Finally as our night with the aurora wound down, the moon rose in the south east. A warm glow creeped up in the sky, and the softest orange light began kissing the sides of mountains.

While we drove back to town, we couldn’t help but to stop at the edge of the highway to gaze at the rising orange moon through binoculars, and further along stopping to say an early morning hello the wild horses.

The annual Leafs vs. Canucks bestie weekend

It was the full face smile, laugh out loud reaction to spotting each other in arrivals at the airport. It was once again just like falling right back into old times, and there is nothing is better than that.

My Ontarian bestie was back, and for the first time in Whitehorse.

In our annual tradition of shared suffering, we carved out a few hours over dinner to watch the Canucks beat the Leafs.

Of course it’s all good fun, and the pain doesn’t really start until the Leafs exit in the first round again, and the Canucks fall in the draft lottery. As per tradition.

Winter walks through this beautiful little neighbourhood, the forest trails, and out to the cliffs were accompanied by thermoses of perfected glühwein.

Other days saw long drives through the mountains with warm drinks and delicious snacks, and endless nature bathing while the wind howled and the warmth of the sun continued to return, even in the -20s.

Like every visit, this was the just-so-good-for-the-soul, laughter induced cheek and stomach pain, emotionally raw weekend that makes life so special.

Paralyzing beauty

When I emailed my guests, I told them that I would like to go much earlier tonight. But I said it is taking a little bit of a risk because if we are wrong, it could be a longer night out there.

“We love an adventure so earlier is fine with us.”

So a couple hours earlier than I would normally be greeting my guests, I laughed out loud as they walked down their driveway just off the Alaska Highway. Above us, a green curtain danced.
”Yeah, a risk”, we all laughed.

Then after some minutes just admiring the perfection above, we finally jumped into the car and made our way out of town.

What a night.

“When we heard you swear, we figured this probably wasn’t normal.”

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Livets ånde

The cure I know to help against grumpy days and everything just not working is long drives and the ice.

Ice froze all over the windows on a morning of -27°, and then I met the best of that in the middle of nowhere, on the centre of a lake in total silence except the deep sounds of the ice itself.

The beauty and the comfort of the ice is beyond any kind of comprehension I have. I stayed for hours walking from uncovered patch to uncovered patch in an endless and aimless wandering. The wind created such beautiful and fragile textures in the snow and the ice sang almost endlessly. It didn’t matter to me when the batteries died, I just wanted to stay out there for ever.

The bittersweet of longer days

To lose this kind of all day light hurts a little bit. It’s one of my favourite things about winter, one of the things I love the most and one of the things I strongly crave through the rest of the year.

But loss in one place leaves room for growth in another.

These already longer days move the sun further north and higher in the sky, once again reaching over the mountains and into my bedroom at sunrise. Standing at my windows and feeling the warmth and brightness of the direct sun on my face is almost cathartic.

And now, I start to dream about patio furniture, coffee outside, and growing greens on my balcony. That is not so far away, but of course, it is definitely not for the middle of February.