Waiting for the Northern Lights. Photo / Getty Images
Unlike a Westend musical, the Northern Lights is a nature-made show that may or may not turn up on the night, as travel writer Chrissie McClatchie knows all too well...
It’s just past 1am, which means it’s almost 12 hours since the sun dipped behind the horizon, casting a blanket of darkness across Tromsø. Snowflakes swirl in the gentle early morning breeze before coming to rest on the pitched roofs lining the harbourfront, their soft movements lit up by the warm glow of the streetlights.
I could be a figurine inside a freshly shaken snow globe, so pretty is the scene, yet I’m currently oblivious to the fairytale charm. I was hoping to be buzzing, on a natural high after witnessing one of nature’s greatest extravaganzas. Instead, all I feel is a sense of anticlimax.
An engine comes to life behind me. Dragged away from my thoughts, I watch Jenka, our friendly Belgian tour guide for the evening, waving goodbye to our small group as her minibus pulls out from the port. Behind her, the Viking Star cruise ship looms large.
This evening’s shore excursion had been my best chance during my six-night cruise to witness the northern lights — and my last. Unlike the other guests, who still have another seven nights left cruising the Norwegian coast, my time has all but run out. In the morning, I’ll be on a flight home.
Earlier that week, we had set sail from London ‘In Search of the Northern Lights’, as the itinerary was called. As my stateroom steward showed me around my veranda stateroom, he happily chatted away about the blaze of aurora activity they had enjoyed so far in the season. On every sailing, guests had been summoned to the decks in the depths of the inky night to witness the ethereal emerald streaks swaying in the sky above them.
Excited for my turn, I embraced the full programme: signing up for 24/7 aurora room alerts, attending lectures and noting down expert photography tips. Finding myself seated next to the ship’s resident historian at dinner one evening, the conversation turned to aurora superstitions. “The last thing you should do is wave at them,” she told me. “Because they might swoop down and carry you away.”
Yet, as we crossed the Norwegian Sea and inched slowly north, the bedside handset remained silent. I needn’t have worried that I had missed a crucial image setting on my phone, let alone that any sudden movement would be interpreted as over-enthusiastic waving to the vast night sky.
Thankfully, there was plenty to distract me onboard. Viking’s luxurious, adults-only small ships are free of giant water slides, poker machines and cocktail umbrellas. In their place are stylish lounge spaces, smart restaurants and an ABBA tribute show. The crew burst into celebration when we cross the Arctic Circle and the landscape transforms into a mesmerising canvas of deep blues, ice whites and swirling greys from which Tromsø and its Arctic Cathedral appear.
As the captain welcomes us to the city over the ship’s loudspeaker, he explains that we have timed our visit well. The annual Norwegian Lasso Throwing Championship is under way. A festive atmosphere fills the air, alongside the smell of grilled reindeer and mulled wine. Maybe it’s a sign?
But other things need to align for the Northern Lights to appear: the season and the weather, of course, and perhaps just a sprinkling of magic. Later that evening, as we board our minibus tour, Jenka pulls out a flask of reindeer soup, telling us that it’s her lucky aurora charm.
Soon the lights of Tromso disappear from view, replaced by a moon obscured by a light cover of cloud. After an hour or so of driving, we arrive at the edge of Grøtfjord, a nearby fjord, and set up an impromptu camp in deep snow. Sipping cups of thick soup, our group huddles around a crackling fire for warmth.
Jenka points out hazy grey streaks in the sky and starts snapping away at them with her DSLR camera. To our surprise, they appear as faint, yet luminous brushstrokes of green on the camera screen. “Look, there are the northern lights,” she says excitedly. But I struggle to share her enthusiasm. The photos are nothing like the scene I see with my naked eye.
A few nights later, a guest I met onboard messaged to tell me that the ship’s aurora alerts had been put to good use off Alta, where the light activity was particularly strong. It was around the same time that Jenka sent the photos from our excursion. I swipe through the images until I find the one she took of me. If I look hard enough, I can just make out a light puff of brilliant emerald green behind me.
The pictures might tell one story, but the truth is another. I went on a Northern Lights cruise and didn’t see the Northern Lights. It’s always the risk. But I also learned that, if you’re going to set off in search of such an unpredictable natural wonder, nothing beats a luxury cruise for the sheer thrill of the chase.
For more information on Viking cruises, see vikingcruises.com.au For more things to do when the Northern Lights are a no-show, see visitnorway.com
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