On September 1st, 2019 I crept outside into the dark night of Alaska to meet STEVE and it and I had a photo shoot together. It had been awhile! But usually once a year we have a chance to get a look at a each other. I’m not talking about my cousin Steve, in fact, STEVE is not a person at all. STEVE stands for Strong Thermal Emission Velocity Enhancement.
The last time I wrote about STEVE it was to dispel the mis-classification of these images online as “Proton Arcs”. At that time scientists were grappling with what caused this mysterious form of the aurora. There was uncertainty on why it showed up white instead of green and what form of energy would cause the aurora at all. Although it has likely been observed by sky watchers since the point where humans could comprehend its beauty it was relatively new to science and only really entered the literature in 2016.
The green light intermingled with pink and white ribbons is a classic form of STEVE and is what is typically seen by the human eye and camera.
Strong Thermal Emission Velocity Enhancement
” Strong Thermal Emission Velocity Enhancement ” – that’s quite a load of Jargon! However, once you understand how these auroras form it makes mores sense.
Typical auroras are formed when energy from the sun collides with nitrogen and oxygen in our atmosphere. The collision results in green or red light being let off. However, based on recent science published on Space.com STEVE forms when charged particles are super-heated outside of the “auroral zone”. The particles emit the white and pink light we see on the ground.
If you are still a bit unclear remember that light occurs as a physical process – it’s the release of energy. For instance when you heat an electric cooking stove the orange light emitted is the release of energy. STEVE is a bit like a monstrous electric coil in the sky!
A Gallery of STEVE
I think my latitude in Southeast Alaska is a hotspot for STEVE. I have observed it 5 times to date since 2016. I recently added my photos to a database of STEVE observations. The images below are from the same night as the images above. You can see a short timelapse of STEVE that night by going to a video on my Facebook page.
The Rest of the Show
STEVE shows up on the biggest nights of aurora. It definitely seems to be linked to high amounts of energy coming in. During the nights and mornings of August 30 – September 1st the Aurora was visible almost anytime it was dark.
After STEVE Disappeared the Northern Lights flooded across the sky
On the second night of the show I focused less on photography. My wife and I curled up on a blanket on the beach and watched the lights dance overhead. We had some pretty amazing coronas for Southeast Alaska!
Tall spires of Aurora over beach grass at Icy Strait Point
I’ll be keeping an eye out for any further science and revelations on STEVE. I hope to see it again!
In the north end of Southeast Alaska lies Yakutat, Alaska. The community sits in a cathedral of mountains that make up Kluane National Park and Reserve. Among its peaks, Mt. Saint Elias soars to over 18,000 feet, earning it the title of second highest mountain in the U.S. and Canada.. All of the mountains are snow covered and laced with glaciers. They create remarkable, never ending scenery when the sun is shining and at night they provide a remarkable backdrop for the Northern Lights.
An iceberg floats under the Northern Lights in Harlequin Lake.
Forty-five minutes outside of Yakutat plus a 20 minute hike will bring you to Harlequin Lake. The lake is at the outflow of Yakutat Glacier, possibly the fastest retreating glacier in the world, which dumps a constant supply of ice into it the lake’s waters. We arrived at 10PM as the aurora was starting to intensify into a solid green band. Icebergs floated in the lake like ice cubes in a drink. They were about 30 feet from shore which left me in a dilemma – go into the lake to bring the icebergs closer in my photos, or be happy with images from the shore? As the aurora exploded overhead into pinks and greens it made my choice clear.
My boots and then socks came off quickly and I sucked in my breath as I stepped into the frigid water. It crept over my knees and then to my mid-thighs before I finally stopped wading in. The aurora was still dancing overhead and the adrenaline kept my mind off my numbing feet. I stepped out of the water a few times to warm up, but was forced back into the water by the beauty of the combination of ice and aurora. The fifth time back in the water was nearly unbearable! I finally conceded that it was time to warm up, not knowing the climax of the night would come after I put my boots back on.
When a glacier “calves” a chunk of ice breaks from it and crashes into the water forming a bouncing baby iceberg. It was evident from the gigantic sound coming from across the lake, that Yakutat Glacier was calving off a behemoth chunk of ice. The cannon-like roar that boomed across the lake accented the dancing Northern Lights overhead. The goosebumps stood up on my arms from the power of the moment. It was a fitting end to one of coldest and most memorable nights of Northern Lights watching that I have done.
The aurora storm (kp5) lasted for another night and aligned with clear skies – a two night feature of cloudless skies which is unusual for Yakutat in October. There are many areas close to town that are devoid of light pollution, and I departed to Grave Yard Beach outside of Yakutat which is most famous for its surfing. Adding to the sound of the gentle surf, the ocean-side location provided open skies for the aurora to dance, reflections in the sand, and a moonrise over the mountains. Whenever I return to Yakutat again, it will be impossible not to think of these two remarkable nights in the darkness and under the lights.
“The Double Dipper” – Ursa Major reflects in the sand and shines in the sky.
Although late April in Alaska typically spells the end of the “dark days” of winter and hence the aurora borealis, we were fortunate to have an active aurora forecast (KP6) and clear skies on April 23rd. Perhaps the fates were aligning without my knowing it as spring in Southeast Alaska is known for its clouds and rain, but as I drove out to The Cannery at Icy Strait Point I was greeted by stars and a moonless night. From the parking lot my feet crunched on the gravel of the rocky beach. I walked along with the water lapping near my feet and the sea-air filled my nostrils from the swelling waters of a high tide. I was not alone out there. My headlamp lit up only a small portion of the inky-dark night, but up ahead a mink’s eyes showed brightly like two opals in the dark. Another mustelid, a River Otter, swam in the waters just offshore. He got closer to me several times, obviously trying to figure out what I was up to. All of these wonders were the precursor to the amazing show that was only be beginning.
At 12:30 AM The aurora began to intensify over the waters of Port Frederick. Soon the pulsing green, pink, and white lights turned the ocean fluorescent green and my eyes wide. I had never seen a display this active in Southeast! I worked with my camera to tether together the sea and the Northern Lights. I was fortunate enough to have the Alaska Marine Highway Ferry add some scale at about 1AM.
Sea shells accent the Northern Lights from the Cannery in Hoonah.
The aurora borealis from the cannery at Icy Strait Point
The Alaska Marine Line Ferry comes into Hoonah at under the Northern Lights.
The Alaska Marine Line Ferry comes into Hoonah at under the Northern Lights.
The aurora borealis over the pilings at Icy Strait Point
The aurora arches south over Neka Mountain.
This large panorama captures the scale of the aurora over the waters of Port Frederick.
A corona erupts overhead during a brilliant show of Aurora in Hoonah.
As good as it gets! This was the most amazing displa of northern light that I’ve seen in Southeast Alaska.
A tall aurora stretches above the waters of Port Frederick, Hoonah, Alaska.
The aurora borealis above the dock at Icy Strait Point
A brilliant band of aurora erupts over Port Frederick.
At 1:30 AM the adrenaline of the incredible show finally started to wear off. I set off down the shore to go home, staring at my feet to avoid tripping. That’s when the first small blue light in the water caught my eye. I splashed a rock into the water and blue waves of biolumintation echoed out from its crater. I stepped into the water, and my footprints erupted with light. All around me in the waters of Port Frederick, small, bio-luminescent creatures swarmed and let off burst of cerulean blue light like underwater fireflies at the slightest disturbance. It was then that I knew what I had to do! My camera began clicking 6 inches from the water’s surface as I sought together bond together the lights of the sea and the lights of the sky as its unlikely I will ever have this unique experience ever again!
A huge bloom of bio-luminescent creatures provides a blue glow to the foreground of this image. You can see their streaks in the water in this long exposure.
Bio-luminescent creatures in the waters of Port Frederick and under the Northern Lights.
The aurora borealis arches over all of Hoonah, Alaska.
The incredible dark skies of Hoonah are offset by the Aurora Borealis.
A proton arc is oftentimes described as a broad band of diffuse aurora. If you do a Google Image search for “Proton Arc” a plethora of beautiful images depicting a purple, red, green, or pale band of aurora will greet your eyes. Go ahead, really, search it, I can wait. Or, you can visit this website at Spaceweathergallery.com.
I had the pleasure of seeing this pale phenomenon in Juneau on September 20th, 2016 for the first time ever. In the scene, the aurora swirled to the north in front of me over mountains. However, a pale, confined, band of aurora ran perpendicular to the northern display, and stretched far to the south past a large, brilliant moon. In my camera it was cool blue/white in color and was in stark contrast to the green aurora that played on the northern horizon over the mountains of Juneau. I posted the image to an aurora group on Facebook and labeled it a “proton arc” as so many before me had done. However, I received an interesting response from renowned aurora researcher Neal Brown – a true “proton aurora” is nearly undetectable by the human eye and the concept of a “proton arc” is a widespread misconception. The disagreement between the science and the public perception set my wheels turning, and even though I am not an aurora scientist, I would like to dissect why proton arcs are not truly visible.
On September 20th, 2016 I thought I saw a “proton arc” in Juneau, however, it seems my misunderstanding of this auroral phenomenon is the same of many non-scientists.
There are two ways that auroras may be formed. Most auroras are formed when excited electrons collide with oxygen or nitrogen or if protons collide with nitrogen or oxygen. Electrons which are lighter and have a lot of energy result in the traditional, dancing auroras. Electron auroras emit light at many wavelengths including 630nm (red) and 427.9nm (blue). The second way that auroras can form is when protons collide with nitrogen and oxygen. The proton collisions result in emissions of 656.3nm (red) and 486.1nm (blue) (Lummerzheim et al. 2001). Separation of these light bands are difficult because at 656.3 the emissions require a precise instrument to differentiate them from the electron aurora. The same can be said of the emissions at 486.1 which are nearly indiscernible from the electron emissions. To quote Neal Brown’s response in the aurora group, “To prove it is a true proton arc one would have to use some sort of spectral discrimination to see if it contained only 656.3 and 486.1 nm emissions”. Aurora researcher Jason Ahrms had this to say in a detailed Facebook post – “We don’t use color, location in the sky, how long it’s been there, or anything like that to identify a proton aurora.”. This means that simply looking at an aurora with your eyes is not enough to determine if it is a proton arc – so why is it so commonly mislabeled. The mistake is likely an innocent use of scientific jargon; those posting the images (like me) simply did a brief search to confirm what they saw before spreading the lie themselves.
A chart of the light spectrum. Copyright : http://techlib.com/images/optical.jpg
The Aurora Borealis shows off a pale display in Hoonah, Alaska which is often identified a “Proton Arc”
Although it is impossible to detect a proton aurora with your eyes, they have been successfully photographed once identified with instrumentation. Tony Phillips of Spaceweather.com discussed the phenomena with University of Alaska Fairbanks Researcher Jason Arhns. His image below shows how difficult true differentiation between electron and proton aurora is. Where the proton arc has been identified is barely discernible from the aurora.
This proton arc was captured by Jason Ahrns of the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. The region fo the proton arc was determined from spectral instruments, but as you can see it is very similiar in form to electron auroras. Image copy right to Spaceweather.com
It was interesting to realize that my perception of what a proton arc was had been so wrongfully influenced by what I saw online. However, if the pale auroras being captured by photographers (like the photos below) are not truly proton arcs, what are they? Incredibly, as Jason Ahrns explains, to date there are is no known explanation for these pale, elusive aurora displays! They are a new opportunity for scientific exploration in the aurora research arena. I hope they keep us posted.
When I first took this image in Juneau I believed it was a proton arc. I now know that is incorrect.
This image of a pale aurora is incorrectly called a “proton arc” by many photographers and aurora chasers.
The Milky Way collides with the aurora borealis in Hoonah, Alaska.
A pale aurora shows to the south in stark contrast to the green aurora surrounding it.
Standing in the water
Some personal reflection as the aurora bounces off the water on North Douglas Island, Juneau.
A reflection of the aurora over the Mendenhall Towers, Juneau, from North Douglas Island.
The aurora at low tide from North Douglas Island.
The aurora at low tide from North Douglas Island.
A green crown on the mountaintops outside of Juneau, Alaska.
“The Emerald River” The aurora shines off a tidal river in Hoonah. Alaska.
Columns of aurora reflect from the ocean in Hoonah, Alaska.
Sitka, Alaska is known for its mountains which sprout from the ocean and provide a stunning backdrop to the fishing boats which constantly traverse its water. However, Sitka averages 87 inches (7.25 feet) of rain per year which means it is constantly cloudy. It was pretty lucky that our first visit to this scenic city coincided with 3 days of sunshine! We were blown away by the juxtaposition of mountains and ocean. A series of fortunate events allowed us to explore enjoy the region and my camera was constantly clicking.
Mountains and Sunsets
We stepped off our short, 40-minute, flight from Hoonah to Sitka and received an invite. My pilot was an avid hiker and wanted to bring my wife, Kassie, and I out hiking at Mosquito cove. After an instant “yes” on our part we were on our way. The coastal drive brought us to the edge of town (Sitka only has about 17 miles of road), and in short order we were on the trail to Mosquito Cove. Tall spruces provided a high canopy and the loamy smell of the undergrowth mixed with the salty-fresh air of the ocean. The rocky coast reminded me of the shores of Maine, except the tall mountains made it distinctly Alaskan. A colorful sunset met us at the end of the hike and graced us as we returned to the trail head. An amazing way to start our time in Sitka!
The next day we ventured to the top of Harbor Mountain. Winding switchbacks made me a bit car-sick, but the big payout was the views from the top. The many islands of the Sitka region lay below us and the blue skies allowed for miles and miles of views.
Blues skies reflect off a pool on Harbor Mountain, Sitka, Alaska.
The sprawling bays and Islands surround Sitka, Alaska as seen from Harbor Mountain.
I was struck by the character of this dead tree in the alpine on Harbor Mountain, Sitka, Alaska.
A colorful sunset puts Mount Edgecumbe in shadows in Sitka, Alaska
From oceans to mountains, the amazing scenery of Sitka, Alaska.
From oceans to mountains, the amazing scenery of Sitka, Alaska.
A sunset at Mosquito Cove, Sitka, Alaska.
A sunset at Mosquito Cove, Sitka, Alaska.
A sunset at Mosquito Cove, Sitka, Alaska.
A sunset at Mosquito Cove, Sitka, Alaska.
A sunset through some tall spruces along the trail to Mosquito Cove
The Aurora Borealis and Night Skies
The clear conditions in Sitka happened to align with a level 5 aurora forecast. I knew the only place that I wanted to go was to the dark skies and huge vistas of Harbor Mountain. The Northern Lights began almost as the sun went down and stretched far to the south over Mount Edgecumbe. By 10:30 PM the aurora was far overhead and dancing in incredible sheets of green and pink. I was blown away by its presence over the oceans and landscape.
The Aurora Borealis arches over Mount Edgecumbe in Sitka, Alaska.
The Aurora Borealis arches over Mount Edgecumbe in Sitka, Alaska.
The Aurora Borealis reflects off a pool in a muskeg on top of Harbor Mountain
The Aurora Borealis appeared as the sunset
The Aurora Borealis appeared as the sunset
Pinks ribbons of the Aurora Borealis reflect from a pool on top of Harbor Mountain.
Pinks ribbons of the Aurora Borealis reflect from a pool on top of Harbor Mountain.
Pinks ribbons of the Aurora Borealis reflect from a pool on top of Harbor Mountain.
Hues of purple reach to the south near Mount Edgecumbe, Sitka, Alaska.
An incredible display of Aurora reflects of the ocean and highlights the islands outside of Sitka, Alaska.
An incredible display of Aurora reflects of the ocean and highlights the islands outside of Sitka, Alaska.
Can you spot the big dipper?
Tall bands of aurora dance over the ocean in Sitka, Alaska.
The moonless night in Sitka, Alaska made the Milky Way shine. I caught this shooting-star, whose tail stretched long in the sky.
The Milky Way over Harbor Mountain, Sitka, Alaska.
On the Wing
The flight from Sitka to Hoonah was the capstone to a remarkable trip. The sunny conditions persisted and showcased tall mountains, alpine lakes, colorful bays, and long fjords.
The flight from Sitka to Hoonah was a filled with mountains and bays.
The stretch of water separating Baranof Island from Chichagof Island.
Mountains on Chichagof Island.
The flight from Sitka, Alaska to Hoonah is filled with mountains and incredible views.
Putting how large the scerery is with a wing from our airplane.
This winter, and the winter before that, and the winter before that, I spent more time outside in the darkness than I did in the sun. It is the nature of living in a land where the Lights in the darkness outshine in beauty the pleasure of the sun’s flare. I have found tremendous joy, solace, quiet, and refuge in watching the Aurora Borealis sway and bend across the northern sky, and documenting the Northern Lights has been an endeavor that has kept me up hundreds of hours. Locked away in terabytes of pixels are the proof of my labors. The images that I hold will be a legacy to pass on to my children and perhaps to my grandchildren. It is possible the pictures I have taken will even document change in the Arctic as our climate warms and the landscape transitions to something else.
I have learned more than I can measure about the natural world in Fairbanks because the Arctic is a deceptively complex place, and it is rapidly changing. There are many examples of its uniqueness. Its ecosystem has evolved to support wildlife at extreme temperatures from -60F to 80F. A highlight of its incredible diversity and unique importance are the hundreds of species of birds that return there each year from several continents to breed. Without the Arctic as a breeding ground, populations of waterfowl would be vastly diminished. To create the right conditions to support life for a short summer, the input energy into the system has to be massive, and the never-setting Midnight is the catalyst that fuels the prolifery. From its heat and light rise the microbes,plants, insects, and small mammals which fuel an entire ecosystem that provides resources for those animals and humans that live in it, as well as humans who profit from its export to other regions of the world. The Arctic has become a land which I look forward to returning to, as there is still so much to learn about and see!
At the end of every night comes the dawn. A chance for the world to be seen in a different light, from a new perspective. I have been incredibly blessed with the opportunity to experience the wonders of Interior Alaska, but along with the moving world, I will be shifting my life to Hoonah, Alaska. In Southeast Alaska along the coast, I look forward to plying the sea for salmon and watching its waters for whales, otters in seals. With endless photographic opportunity in the region, I am thrilled to show you and write about the resource rich world of Southeast!
This season’s Aurora Borealis Time-Lapse, “Into the Alaskan Night”, comes not at the end of the Aurora Season but at the end of my time in Fairbanks. In a way, its production is a piece of closure of my life in the interior as I move to Hoonah, Alaska, where I look forward to wandering into the night.
I have a story to tell about the kind of thing that only happens once in a lifetime. Last night I arrived home at 1AM from an amazing night of aurora watching with my parents – their first in Alaska! The forecast, a level 2, tripled to a KP 6 with an unexpected shock passage of energy. Throughout the night the Lights waxed and waned until the entire sky was covered from the southern constellation Orion’s Belt through the north star and to the northern horizon. Throughout the sky the Aurora Borealis shifted and rippled in green curtains of light. Outside of my car at my house, a dancing corona erupted over my head so I quickly snagged my camera and sprinted for the ski trails behind my house to begin shooting. It was as I stepped into the woods that the remarkable part of this story began to unfold.
A successful night of aurora chasing!
A beautiful display of northern lights shines through the black spruces of the boreal forest.
A towering display of northern lights builds to the north.
The aurora pulses through the sky.
Vertical banding through the aurora here is usually a good sign of things to come!
The aurora stretches out far above my head.
The big dipper stands out strongly within the Northern Lights.
The big dipper hangs high the sky and sets the position of the aurora.
I can’t help but think that this aurora images looks like a marijuana leaf!
Fingers of the aurora stretch out o in all directions.
Multiple colors of aurora dance across the sky in Alaska.
Small bolts of light form below the aurora borealis.
I was making no attempt to conceal the heavy pound of my foot steps, and my first few steps into the woods were loud enough to wake a grouse which was sleeping along the trail. It started from its slumber, and with rapid flaps, thundered its wings just a few feet from me. I jumped high at the sound in a blind moment of panic thinking for a second it was a moose. As I gained my composure I noted where it landed in a spruce tree only about 15 feet from me. I turned my headlamp in that direction, and the beady, black eye of an immature Ruffed-grouse glinted at me. The opportunity to shoot wildlife underneath the aurora has always been a desire of mine and I was keen to take advantage of it here! I set up my camera and began to shoot, hoping to capture the scene. My shutter clicked twice and the grouse stayed in place, although I’m surprised the sound of my pounding heart boosted by adrenaline in my ears did not spook it. My shutter clicked a few more times and I boldly moved towards the grouse. With each crunch of snow underfoot, I moved closer, and closer, and closer. The grouse, either too scared to move or over-confident in his camouflage did not move a muscle and soon my camera sat only 18 inches from the nervous bird. Overhead the aurora was still brilliant and as my shutter clicked I pulled off an image that may truly be the first in the world – a wild Ruffed Grouse perched under the shimmering emerald of the Alaskan Aurora Borealis.
The immature Ruffed-Grouse that I stirred up eyes me from the shadow of a spruce tree.
A Ruffed Grouses sits extremely close to my camera – a 12mm lens gives the shot an incredible angle!
It is amazing that the grouse did not fly away. I think it was a combination of the pure confusion of the moment, the shine of my light, and the benefit of the darkness. Perhaps he had convinced himself that even though I was so close, I had not noticed his presence. However, eventually he decided that enough was enough. He could watch the aurora without such nosy neighbors and took off into the night leaving me to revel in the unbelievable encounter.
The Ruffed Grouse gives me one more glance before taking off into the night.
Growing up in Minnesota one of my favorite constellations was Orion. The appearance of his belt at earth’s horizon was a sure sign that autumn was approaching, and as I fell asleep each night I would watch him out my southern facing window. Many people, cultures, and seasons are tied to the position of the stars. In Alaska and as a night-photographer, I have grown to appreciate the rise of the Milky Way Galaxy to the north as spring approaches. Although at least a part of the Milky Way is visible through the winter, its growing prominence and brightness in February and March really documents the changing season. The Milky Way rises through the summer, but by the time we are able to see into the center of the Galaxy the sun will never set! Of course, the sun blots out any opportunity to see the center of the Milky Way from Fairbanks, Alaska.
Earlier in the night (about 10 PM) the galaxy was very bright and intersected a red and green display of the Northern Lights.
I have been researching and “perfecting” techniques (lots of room for growth and creativity!) to stitch together large panoramas. The images here were created from stitched 25 – 32 images. The results are certainly interesting and beautiful! My goal when creating these images is to capture as much of the Milky Way as possible. On moonless nights like March 2nd in Fairbanks, Alaska the Milky Way shows up as a bright band in the sky. With some luck, the aurora accents its celestial beauty. As part of the Panoramic technique the resolution of the image grows to extreme proportions. These panoramas here are approximately 21,480 x 10,850 pixels! That’s nearly 233 megapixel resolution! The power of the technique the possibility of wall-sized panoramic prints. Hint, hint – I would love to see one of these printed to 50″ or bigger! If you are are interested, you should contact me!
A lone birch stands as the focal points of this large panorama. The city lights of Fairbanks show up on the right.
A large panorama showing off the Galaxy and the Aurora Borealis over Black Spruce Dogsledding.
From a bit purer side of photography, I was also able to capture the galaxy and aurora in single images. However, there is an interesting distinction in them over many of my other aurora shots – they are no longer “real”. I am a stickler for not over-processing aurora shots to give the viewer the truest colors and most accurate representation as possible. However, to emphasize the galaxy it necessary to compromise on the color of the aurora. The aurora in these single shots and the panoramas is more vibrant than it was to the naked on this night. Because of the color changes these are truly “works of art”, not just documentation of the aurora. Its not a bad thing, but I feel should be made clear, as there is a growing opinion that aurora photography does not represent how it truly looks. In this particular case, that is true.
A bright section of aurora hightlights a beautiful scene capturing the Milky Way over the sleds at Blackspruce Dogsledding
A fusion of the northern lights and the Milky Way Galaxy at Black Spruce Dog Sledding.
A long star trails shows off the multitude of stars on a moonless night in Fairbanks, Alaska.
A long star trails shows of the changes of the aurora borealis over a couple of hours.
The idea of translating the aurora into music prompted me to work through formally composing and recording my first ever song on the guitar. I began the song the way the aurora often begins. A steady, solid pulse of light that builds one beat at a time. The song is timid, unsure if the aurora will come to fruition, but then a light harmonic symbolizes change. The tempo of the song forces the aurora higher into the sky as it builds in speed and intensity. Shifting across the sky, short bursts of light are like a staccato. They punctuate the underscore that has now turned into a fast steady rhythm. Rapidly the aurora rolls across the sky changing the visual dynamics. A region of forte that held your gaze diminishes to pianissimo allowing you to refocus to a new part of the sky. In the orchestra, the conductor is no waving stage left at the delicate sounds of violins but instead at the soft lyrical voices of the flutes. The change gives you goose bumps as it seamlessly transitions to a new rhythm and sound. The swell of color and light has finally ceased and the the steady pulse of light returns before finally fading out. The lights of the auditorium fade out, and the applause of the crowd erupts as they lavish in what they heard and saw.
“Collosus” A composition of change in the aurora over a 1.5 hour period. This composition shows off a variety of color changes and intensities.
As this posts winds down and concludes, I would be interested to know if the use of music and musical terms helps describe the aurora for you. In the video below, I tied together time lapes from this season in the Fairbanks region. The guitar track was composed and performed by me. I hope you enjoy!
It was negative 5 degrees Fahrenheit in Fairbanks, Alaska as I stepped outside to engage in my photographic addiction : capturing the northern lights. I set off into the night, stomped a trail through knee-deep snow, and tripped on a hidden tree. The trip loosened up a signature item of the black spruce bog that I was walking in; a four foot Black Spruce tree encased in snow. Around me arranged in clumps and with varying snow loads were hundreds of Black Spruces. Each layer of snow deposited through the winter hung heavily on each tree. Some of them sustained the burden of winter and maintained their dignity by standing upright, however, many bowed over in graceful arcs waiting for the warmth of spring to set them free. The beautiful landscape I stood in was classic to the interior of Alaska in the boreal forest. On this night I was in luck, the aurora started up and with my camera and mind racing I began to take pictures that fused together two iconic elements of interior Alaska.
I began photographing the aurora borealis three years ago and since then have continued to morph my skills and technique. It is actually pretty amazing to consider the transition that my photography has gone through as I began to realize that although the northern lights are stunning they are only an accent to unique landscape. I began to focus less on tack-sharp stars and large vistas and more on the foreground elements. I no longer only seek tall “domes” (i.e., mountains, hills) to stake out my my tripod. Instead I often look for integral pieces of the landscape that epitomize it and place them close and directly in front of my camera. In order to capture landscapes like these I change my techniques. My camera and tripod are almost always at ‘snow level’ to take advantage of unique angles, and I set up only a few feet from the object in front of me. A bulbous, snow-covered black spruce only two feet away becomes the tack-sharp focus that the eye is pulled to. The dreamy and soft aurora and stars provide the lighting that help pull out the essence of the landscape. They are punctuation to the beauty which lies all around.
In the age of digital photography that makes capturing the northern lights “easy”, I offer this article as a challenge to photographers to think outside of the box when shooting the aurora. You may find that it provides inspiration to your work and a beautiful twist to an astounding phenomenon.
I chose this archway of spruces to photograph the aurora in. I was intent on capturing the aurora in a way that complimented their shape.
I got closer to the archway and was thrilled by the aurora that dance in this natural window.
Bulbous, snow-covered spruces and a framework and a dead spruce are set by the aurora borealis.
A window to the aurora beyond.
A broad vista of red and green aurora in Fairbanks.
