APRIL 4, 2020 – My first exposure to the aurora borealis was on a Saturday night during college when my drinking buddies and I stumbled out of the Stowe House near campus. Our exit coincided with a spectacular light show filling the sky. To achieve a better view, we crossed campus to the soccer fields—only to find that the majority of the student body were already lying head-to-toe, gazing in wonderment at the celestial display. To cheers normally reserved for sporting events, the flashing green and yellow light whipped wildly across the heavens.
That late-night, extra-curricular “astronomy class,” however, was merely a preview of what I’d see from the deck of the Mosken, the sturdy old vessel bound for Bøda. I described the setting in another letter home:
“We left [Røst] at 9:00 p.m. and steamed northeast to the small, mountainous island of Værøya. There were only seven passengers aboard plus crew, and only three of us were up on deck. The sun set at 10:15 and produced an array of pastels in the cloudless sky. Our boat rose and fell with the seas as the wind tugged our hair. The air was so cool, so fresh—I took big breaths of it and threw my cares to the ocean breeze . . .
“Then, at just past 10:30, we saw the moon appear on the horizon. It was exactly ‘half,’ and as it rose out of the distant waters, it loomed large and pink. From our position the moon looked like the huge spinnaker of a phantom sailboat. Gradually, it cleared the horizon and sailed higher into the cool, clear sky. Stars appeared, Polaris shining nearly directly overhead. My two friends had disembarked at Værøy, so now I was alone on deck. I took a chair and huddled up against the cold breeze. After a time, I noticed some clouds overhead.”
Using my Dictaphone, I began describing the scene.
“Then, suddenly,” the letter continued, “as I sat there describing, the clouds began to pulsate and expand . . . Within a few minutes the light show was well underway. I watched—awestruck—for about 10 minutes. Imagine—a bright moon shining across the sea to my right; a long sunset to my left; the Big Dipper and Polaris above me, and the wild Northern Lights stretching all across the sky . . .
“I remembered one my German friends from the hostel was below in the [cramped dining area]. I dashed down and found him sound asleep.
“‘Wake up!’ I shook him.
“‘What?!’ he asked, with sleepy eyes.
“‘Come here quickly!’
“He staggered after me, and when he reached the deck, he looked as though he was entering heaven. He was as awestruck as I had been.
“‘Oh, thank you!” he said repeatedly. ‘I must go below and wake my wife!’ The German disappeared and returned five minutes later with his groggy spouse. But by that time, the show was over.”
The sleepy woman was a little miffed for having been disturbed from her slumber. She was unimpressed by my verbal description of what she’d missed. Her English was excellent, but mine was wholly inadequate.
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
