It’s almost midnight and the silence creates a special atmosphere. It is very similar to Shakespeare’s “Quality of Mercy” ( merchant of venice), it seems to be falling like “gentle rain from heaven.” The glass walls, which during the day offer spectacular views of the rolling countryside of northern Finland, are nothing more than a yawning abyss of near-black nothingness at night. Towards the north, in the distance, some rain is falling. The rolling hills form a dark silhouette against a star-studded sky.
Just when the sense of still time begins to lull you, the sky above the hills turns an almost imperceptibly soft green, and before my eyes appears the most brilliant of all celestial shows, the Northern Lights or Northern Lights. Masu. The light shines faintly, swirls, and pulsates slightly, making it look surreal and fantastic. And then it all goes away and everything lasts just a few minutes. If it weren’t for the bad photos, it might have been a figment of my imagination. It’s a far cry from watching with envy the amazing videos my friends sent me. Yet the experience, however quiet and fleeting, is surreal and magical.
similar story
Despite their mesmerizing abilities, the aurora borealis is actually a violent event, the result of particles from the sun colliding with Earth’s atmosphere. 2024 is predicted to be the peak period of solar activity in the Sun’s 11-year solar cycle, so your chances of witnessing the aurora borealis are much higher this year.
September marks the start of the so-called aurora season, but like most natural phenomena, it’s difficult to predict when and where you’ll see the aurora borealis, making aurora-chasing activity very popular in the region. If the skies are clear in winter, the darkness lasts longer, so the best chance of seeing the Northern Lights is between September and March to April. They are known to occur within a 2,500 km radius of the North Pole, but have been observed further south on active days. Your best bet is in the northernmost countries and regions far from your home, where dark, cloudless conditions and minimal light pollution increase your chances of sightings. In addition to Finland, this light can also be seen from Iceland, Greenland, Canada, Sweden, and Norway. The southern hemisphere has its own aurora australis, or southern lights, which occur near difficult-to-access locations.
However, science is the furthest thing from anyone who is chasing the light. Rather, it is the magic and mystique that surrounds them that captivates people. As with most such phenomena, early civilizations gave them fantastical stories. As expected, there are several myths surrounding the Northern Lights, which vary from country to country and oscillate between fear and respect. The name comes from the Greek goddess of dawn, Aurora, and is reminiscent of the coming of morning in Greek and Roman mythology.
In China, light is believed to create dragons and is seen as a battle between the forces of good and evil, while in Japan light is considered sacred and a good omen. In Australia, indigenous people who are accustomed to seeing the Northern Lights consider it to be a divine dance. Some North American indigenous peoples, including the Inuit, associate this light with the spirits of their ancestors and see it as a guide for the spirits of the dead to the next world. Estonians believe in the exotic myth that the lights are a glorious carriage that transports guests to a heavenly wedding. The Vikings celebrated them as manifestations of the gods, but some Norse tribes feared them. In Finland, there are many beliefs surrounding the Sami people, including the belief that playing with fire foxes is a cause and can bring misfortune if disrespected.
Some of these stories swirl around me in the pitch darkness of Urho Kekkonen National Park in the Lapland region. In early February, the temperature is very cold, around -20 degrees. Located near Saariselka in the Arctic Circle, it is the land of the indigenous Sami people and the sole caretakers of the reindeer. There’s snow on the ground, and a friendly reindeer pulls the wooden sled I’m sitting on as it snakes through the park. Unusually thick clouds covered the area, covering the sky and making it pitch black. Hopes of seeing the lights are quickly fading and my aurora tracking has clearly become a jinx. The rhythmic sound of reindeer bells and the scraping of sleds on the icy ground pierce the silence. My guide more than makes up for the lack of light with colorful stories of supernatural beings and celestial beings, punishment and redemption, blessing and gratitude.
A few years ago, when I first tried my hand at aurora tracking, I spent two days camping in Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon province in Canada’s far northwest. Every day, a local guide drove me 30 minutes to the outskirts of the city and we gathered in a place with zero light interference and sub-zero temperatures. Despite fervent wishes and prayers, light remained elusive. I joined a few other aurora chasers to roast marshmallows and sausages on a bonfire and draw silly figures with light sticks in front of my camera set to long exposure.
On this trip to Finland, I’m more convinced that my jinx is still in effect than to get excited about seeing the light. In the evening, long before I caught a glimpse of a light, I drove out to the edge of a protected natural park as night fell. The park is home to bears, reindeer, lynx, and wolverines, but none of them ventured onto the road when I arrived at a hill vantage point known for viewing the northern lights. The moonless sky is clear and dotted with stars. You can see some familiar constellations such as Ursa Major and Sagittarius. But the lights still remain off.
Despite the beauty of the night: the star-studded sky, the occasional shooting star, and the incredible calm, I return home a little disappointed and sit in my room staring at the dark sky. At that time, the lights will turn on at different times.
Anita Rao Kasi is an independent journalist based in Bangalore.