Hunting the Aurora Borealis
Originally published in The Greeley Tribune, August 19, 2023.
Stacy McCloud and her husband mushing a dog team in Canada. Photo/Stacy McCloud.
Life has a way of twisting and turning experiences and moments. An arbitrary conglomeration of memories, days, years, and moments all tossed together creates a collection of trials, tribulations, and events that make each of us individuals. This collection of randomness and methodical actions that defines and makes each one of us also creates our egos, playing a part in decisions we make and guiding our judgements and intuitions. This kaleidoscope of happenstances identifies who we are.
Our experiences draw us toward some people and away from others; they guide us religiously, financially, politically, and in so many other ways. We are one bright supernova in the Milky Way surrounded by other celestial bodies. Our experiences determine whether we will burn bright or fizzle out like a red giant.
Stacy McCloud & her husband Colin in Canada. Photo/Stacy McCloud
I love the night sky, and the stars and constellations in it. I’ve scoped out the Southern Cross from South America and Southern Africa and have been guided by Polaris when trying to find my way through the darkness. I’ve told my children stories of Cassiopeia’s braggard mother, and why the mother and son bears were cast into the sky. We’ve sat around campfires listening to the crackle of the fire dancing on logs and watching the blue flames entice the orange ones into a seductive dance until one is engulfed by the long arms of the other. The night sky is my escape. Through the years, it has guided and protected me and witnessed tears and laughter.
In December 2019, my husband hunted down the aurora borealis in a beautiful national park in Canada. I had never seen the northern lights. It was a surprise anniversary trip.
Our drive would have been 4 hours from Edmonton if we had had clear roads, which we did not. We slid around on snow packed roads, getting worse by the hour. Through a blizzard at times and on bare highways with few cities between, we trudged through the weather. Our drive took close to 7 hours before we arrived at the beautiful Fairmont in Jasper National Park. We had a private cabin overlooking the frozen lake.
I love the night sky,
and the stars and constellations in it.
I’ve scoped out the Southern Cross
from South America and Southern Africa
and been guided by Polaris
when finding my way through the darkness.
The night sky is my escape
Day one—we slipped around as we toured the park in our SUV. We drove the Banff Parkway for a few hours, discovering frozen waterfalls and snow-capped evergreens. I had never seen such a dense forest; the trees were so tall that it was hard to see where their snow cover ended and clouds began. It was majestic. The evergreens were so magnified—we were toys in a land of giants. In that moment, I was small and insignificant. Driving, we saw deer, elk bigger than I’d ever seen, and big horned sheep even littered a stretch of the drive. From a distance, we were lucky enough to glimpse a couple of wolves. Everything in the park seemed bigger than the rest of the world.
That evening we had a wonderful dinner at the lodge restaurant. But no sign of the northern lights. We were told sometimes they weren’t visible until the early morning. An employee who was responsible for watching for the display would wake up everyone on the list to see the lights.
The next day, we lounged around the lodge and soaked in the outside hot tubs with beanies on our heads and hot toddies in our gloved hands, breathing crisp, clean air. This was a spa day, including massages, facials, body scrubs, and champagne near the fire. Wrapped in terry cloth robes, we nibbled from a charcuterie board. We lazed around between food, drink, and hot tubs.
Day 4 my husband had booked a magnificent surprise, so day 3 found us in town renting clothing and boots for what I thought was a snowmobile trip. We hadn’t packed to play heavily outside, so what we could not rent, we bought. Outside temperatures called for extreme snow gear. My layers required layers.
While we were in town, we visited a local brewery and did some souvenir shopping. I dragged my resistant husband into a local dispensary so that I could purchase and try the local fare. I am not a frequent connoisseur of the product, and this was an impulse buy. I thought I’d give it a whirl and see how the Canadian cousin compared to what little I’d indulged in in the States. All the hype from the Trailer Park Boys and South Park had to be just “smoke.”
I passed out, but not before drawing
cat whiskers on my face,
putting bear slippers on my hands,
and acting out
Warren Zevon’s “Werewolf of London.”
A snowy mountainside in Jasper National Park. Photo/Stacy McCloud
I indulged twice, and my evening “went up in smoke.” I passed out, but not before drawing cat whiskers on my face, putting bear slippers on my hands, and acting out Warren Zevon’s “Werewolf of London.” The choreography had my husband in stitches, but my lip sync was on par. This display was videoed, and upon my death, it will be played at my party. Until then, it is too embarrassing to be seen. The boys from South Park were right, the Canadians packed more of a punch than their American cousin.
Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I bounced out of bed early the fourth morning ready for whatever adventure awaited. We were picked up and driven to where I learned I was going to mush a dog sled team. This sentence is giving me trouble, but I’m not sure why. Could it maybe say: A driver took us to our secret destination where I learned we would mush a dog sled team. What an adventure!
Quickly, we were acquainted with our team of 8 and given a rapid rundown of instructions and put on our trail. The dogs were eager to go, and every time we braked and stopped, they bounced around, whining and barking. These beasts wanted to pull and run! They yipped and barked with pleasure.
We spent half the day with our guide, tearing through the Canadian outback. The giant pines were even bigger on the trail and the rolling hills were so fun to whip through with our team. We took turns mushing and guiding the team. The canine crew needed help pulling the sled up inclines, so we had to help by pushing up the hill with legs that quickly got tired.
My husband’s beard was frozen, and every exhausting breath I took felt like I was inhaling ice crystals and slowly freezing my dry throat and lungs. I felt so alive. Midway through the day, we stopped and built a fire, had whiskey with hot chocolate, and fed the dogs. They were eager to get back on the trail. They lived to pull, and it was clear they enjoyed their job.
I don’t remember ever being as exhausted as I was that night. The staff pounded on my door for 10 minutes to wake me so that I could see the lights. Our spent bodies slept right through the commotion. I will go to the ends of the earth to hunt the aurora borealis, and hopefully next time, I won’t sleep through it.
