Northern Lights in Alaska: Accidentally Nailed It

In October 2012, I was still pretty new to this whole photography thing.

I had a camera (firmly set on Auto). I had a travel blog. I had enthusiasm wildly disproportionate to my actual ability.

What I did not have was years of experience photographing difficult shit in terrible conditions, or any clue that chasing the Northern Lights would eventually become one of the most frustrating travel obsessions of my life.

I wasn’t even going to Alaska specifically for the Aurora.

Much like my trip to San Juan, a cheap flight showed up and I did what any financially responsible adult would do.

I bought it because it was cheap and figured out why I was going afterward.

That landed me in Anchorage for a long weekend with my camera, some vague ideas about photographing Alaska, and absolutely no expectation that my very first Northern Lights experience was about to happen before the fucking airplane even landed.

And naturally, when the opportunity of a lifetime presented itself, my photography skills were nowhere near prepared for it.

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DESTINATION: NORTHERN LIGHTS ALASKA

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WELCOME TO ALASKA. LOOK LEFT.

We were descending into Anchorage late at night when the pilot casually announced that passengers on the left side of the airplane could see the Northern Lights.

Wait. What?

I looked out the window and there they were.

Green curtains moving across the Alaskan sky while we descended toward Anchorage.

No aurora tour.

No obsessively checking forecasts.

No standing beside a frozen road at 2:00 AM questioning my life choices.

I’d accidentally stumbled into one of the world’s great natural phenomena before the fucking airplane even landed.

I didn’t even try taking pictures through the window.

Instead, I spent the rest of the descent staring outside and thinking about one thing: GET ME OFF THIS FUCKING AIRPLANE.

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GET THE CLAPPED-OUT RENTAL CAR. NOW.

The second we landed at Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport, the clock was ticking.

I grabbed my luggage, collected whatever thoroughly clapped-out rental car the cheapest reservation in Anchorage had assigned me, threw my camera gear inside and sped off looking for darkness.

I didn’t go particularly far.

I didn’t have some meticulously researched aurora viewing location saved on my phone.

I just needed somewhere nearby that was darker than an airport parking lot and preferably didn’t involve getting arrested for trespassing.

A few minutes later, I found somewhere to pull over.

The Aurora was still there.

Holy shit.

Tripod out.

Camera on.

And thus began my first-ever Northern Lights photography session.

It absolutely fucking blew.

The Aurora wasn’t the problem.

I was.

I was still figuring out photography, and photographing moving light in an almost completely dark sky isn’t exactly beginner mode.

ISO, Shutter speed, and Aperture were settings on the camera, but all things I had zero knowledge of.

But I managed to get a few shots.

They weren’t particularly good.

They certainly weren’t the kind of aurora photos I’d eventually learn to take.

But they were my first Northern Lights photographs, taken minutes after accidentally discovering the Aurora existed directly outside my airplane window.

And honestly, that made them pretty fucking awesome anyway.

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BEGINNER’S LUCK COMPLETELY SCREWED ME

The biggest problem with that night wasn’t the photography.

It was what happened next.

I came away believing that seeing the Northern Lights was apparently easy as shit.

Fly somewhere north.

Wait until dark.

Look up.

Green stuff.

Done.

The universe would spend the next decade correcting this misunderstanding.

I deliberately returned to Alaska looking for the Aurora.

Nothing.

I went to Iceland.

Nothing.

Then Iceland again.

Still nothing.

Clouds, bad timing, weak solar activity and plenty of perfectly dark skies containing absolutely fuck-all.

Eventually, I headed much farther north to chase the Northern Lights in Kirkenes, Norway, after years of discovering just how frustrating this particular bucket-list item can be.

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THE AURORA DOESN’T TAKE RESERVATIONS

Seeing the Northern Lights requires solar activity, darkness, reasonably clear skies, the right location and an uncomfortable amount of luck.

That October night in Alaska just happened to give me all of them.

I didn’t appreciate how ridiculous that was until much later.

Fortunately, my photography improved considerably too.

I’ve put everything I eventually learned into my Northern Lights photography and chasing guide, including camera settings, forecasts, gear and how to dramatically improve your chances of actually seeing the damn things.

Because after years of deliberately chasing the Aurora, my most successful strategy remains scientifically questionable but personally undeniable:

Book a cheap flight somewhere for completely unrelated reasons and apparently the fuckers show right up.