One of the best reasons to come to Norway in winter is to see the Northern Lights. We brave the cold and the snow. We take a boat up the coast far beyond the arctic circle. We encounter six nights with low clouds and wind and snow. With only one night left, we sign up for a light “chasing” tour guide. Honestly, I don’t hold out much hope because it is still very cloudy.

We meet our guide, a French man named Matthieu, at the cruise terminal. About twelve people set out with us in a van. A French guide with a Polish driver escorts Americans, Japanese, Brazilians, and Canadians on an international quest to find the lights. I am not sure how to feel when Mattie announces that we will be heading toward the coast to “wait out the clouds” and “see what happens”. He explains that tonight isn’t really a chase, but rather a waiting game for the clouds to break along the coast. I read earlier that the best chance to see lights was to go inland to Finland, and we had even been encouraged by the “find your guide” organization to bring the passports in case we were stopped in Finland. Now, our guide decides to go the opposite direction to the coastal islands. I am skeptical.

First we stop at a fjord just before dark and it is truly beautiful. Even if we don’t see lights, the scenery is spectacular and worth the price of the guide. Back in the van, we drive over the mountains, around fjords, and to a sheltered spot along the fjord on an island. We are barely out of the van standing in the lingering daylight when Matthieu tells us to look up. The lights have appeared.

It is thrilling, those first glimpses of colored streaks of light. At first they almost look like thin contrails. I realize that our guide knows his business as the light grows brighter and begins to bend and stretch. I don’t know where to look and find myself turning circles to monitor the sky.

I make my way down to the water. Halfway down the hill, the snow gives way and I fall up to my knees in a snow bank. I lose a crampon spike , but luckily a fellow traveler retrieves it. I don’t care, I am only looking up at the incredible light show. Once I am safely on the beach, I find a rock to serve as my lounge chair. The show just keeps getting better. It strengthens until it disappears momentarily, and then strengthens again.

It dawns on me, that a six hour northern lights expedition means two hours travel and four hours sitting in the high winds and cold …..On a rock….in snow….. ice…..by the arctic ocean. I pull my parka tighter and listen to the peaceful sounds of the water against the shore. I strain to see anything that might be the lights. Our guide sits silently and patiently. He tells us that we are lucky to have a warm night. He says that the wind feels much colder when the temps are several degrees below zero. I am very thankful that I purchased an eider down coat for the trip. Only my feet (close to the ice) are cold (despite two layers of wool socks).

When the lights come to life, I forget to be cold, but there are long stretches in between. We have some hot chocolate and get in the van to warm our frozen phalanges. After a short stay, it is back to the wind. To experience the lights you have to be in the dark open sky. When it seems that my toes would snap or my camera would explode from too many snaps, we load the van to head back to Tromso.

In between mountains in a completely uninhabited area, we pull into a parking lot and hurriedly exit the van. The guide spots an explosion of light and stars. He is yelling in excitement. It looks like spotlights are shooting off the top of the mountains. The lights dance and glow. There are thousands of stars…Spirals of light and stardust. Magical. Ethereal. On the last night in the Artic, the heavens put on a show I will never forget. I am breathless and joyful. We chased the lights and caught them. They will always live in my memory.