THE NEXT MORNING, my internal clock tells me to get up
around eight a.m. It's pitch-black outside, though, so of course my
external clock tells me to hit snooze. No can do. I'm showered,
caffeinated, and out the door by ten a.m., ready to begin my hunt
for the elusive northern lights. The sun, however, is still
sleeping. The front page of today's
Fairbanks Daily
News-Miner local section runs the headline, "3:42 of Possible
Sunlight."
There are two approaches to viewing the northern lights, neither of
them ideal for the nonnocturnal. Though the lights are technically
there anytime the sun is down, they generally can't be seen until
the wee hours. So, you can either stay up all night and wait, or
try to get a few hours of sleep, set your alarm for one a.m., and
take a peek outside. I decide to check into Chena Hot Springs, a
popular winter resort for aurora watching, located about an hour
outside of town.
Chena offers an interesting excursion to check out the lights. I
board an SUSV (Small Unit Support Vehicle), a military-issued,
fully tracked all-terrain vehicle that transports about 10 guests
to the top of the surrounding ridge (it's a roughly 30-minute
uphill ride over snow-covered trails), where we all hurry up and
wait for the lights to appear.
At the top of the ridge, Chena has erected a party-size yurt (a
circular, domed tent originally used by the nomadic peoples of
Central Asia) for us to hang out in, and though there are two
wood-burning stoves, my teeth are still rattling. We wait for four
hours, but the lights never truly come. There are a few false
alarms - and even a vague appearance of green waves in the arctic
air - but nothing that even comes close to the photos I see all
around town. It appears the aurora gods will not be cooperating on
this night, though the
frostbite gods seem to be operating at full
capacity.