Shedding Light

It was long and tedious journey getting to Reykjavik, the capital city of Iceland. Maintaining our ever-present spirit of frugality, we decided to find the cheapest way to our destination, not the shortest. This included several layovers and somewhere around 36 hours of no sleep (it’s hard to keep track when covering that many time zones). We eventually touched ground on the land of fire and ice in the early hours before sunrise and hit the ground running. There was a whole day’s worth of exploration ahead of us, and I was so excited that I cast aside the fatigue I had gained from travel.

Throughout the day we managed to explore some of the capital city, make our way to a UNESCO world heritage site, visit a traditional Viking long house, and even meet some of the famed Icelandic ponies. While each of these experiences are worthy of their own individual accounts, there was one common theme to conversation that lead to even greater anticipation amongst the people we met along the way. Tonight was shaping up to be a perfect blend of circumstances to see the aurora borealis, better known as the northern lights. To see the lights, one must travel far to the north (check) and escape the light pollution of civilization (check) on a cloudless night (check) with high solar

activity (check). It had been a long and rough winter, according to the locals, and this meant that there were very few opportunities to catch a glimpse of this naturally occurring phenomenon. By some chance of fate we found ourselves in the right place at the right time and even the residents seemed excited about our prospects.

The drive to Þingvellir National Park was hushed and dark. We were getting as far from the city as we could for the night. Along the way, our guide spoke of the stories the Vikings held that explained the lights as reflections of Valkyrie shields as they flew across the sky to Valhalla. His stories were very eloquent and lent a sense of perspective beyond the scientific explanations that I’m accustomed to. It didn't take long, though, for the lights to make an appearance and interrupt his dialogue.

At first it was only a tiny sliver, not yet even a discernible color. I stared at it for a while, thinking it was only a wisp of a cloud in the night sky. There was something about its movement, though, something that made it seem alive. Undulating and twisting, it grew in size and vibrancy until it was draped across the entire sky, going beyond my field of vision. Fluid-like tendrils were in a constant state of change, like a drop of oil swirled in water. Grey turned into green, green into purple, and they blended together on a black backdrop of the night sky sporadically punctured by the flicker of stars.

The show lasted for slightly over an hour. It seemed as though someone flipped the off switch and then they were gone, slowly dissipating like smoke from a blown-out candle. We piled back into our vehicle and everyone was silent, most likely trying to comprehend what they had just seen (like myself). An experience such as this goes beyond a simple check mark on a list. While they are easily explained by science, the northern lights possess an ethereal quality that make it almost impossible to avoid reflecting on oneself, expanding our perception of ourselves and the world around us.