I missed the first day of Aurora. Early this year, the Aurora reached Maryland for the first time in my life, and I totally missed it. The reports said it wouldn't make it to MD, and I believed them, and didn't even look. The next day was even stronger, and I was desperate to see it. I've never seen aurora, but I've been fascinated with it since I was a child, drawing bad pictures in MS-Paint. And the next day it was cloudy. I had tabs full of web-cams, weather-maps, driving directions into WV, PA, and NY... and but it was cloudy for hundreds of miles in every direction, and so I missed the second day.
Since then, I've been internet-stalking the aurora. https://www.swpc.noaa.gov/products/aurora-viewline-tonight-and-tomorrow-night-experimental lives in my browser, a permanent resident next to my email tab. And every day I'd check the predictions, waiting.
Finally this week, it started showing good chances, the terminator creeping south. Today, the visibility line extended all the way to southern PA, rivalling the previous best. Group chats were began with photographer friends, and we started exchanging potential locations. We scoured lightmaps. We finally decided on a plan, and a backup plan. I charged my cameras, checked my memory cards, packed all my lenses. And then, we had our weekly family webchat. Can't miss the family chat. When it ended at 7:15 I did some final prep and started loading my van.
Outside, neighbors were standing in the street. Apparently we had missed it yet again. They'd gotten texts from friends, pictures showing strong aurora even in the city glare of Towson, but it was gone by now. I wished them luck and headed out in the van, northwest and out of the city. It was a strange drive, anxiously scanning the sky while listening to the astronauts describe the end of the world on audiobook, but I arrived at PrettyBoy Dam around 8:20pm.
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| "Technically, that counts" |
Jason had texted me that he had arrived, but not where he was, so I switched to parking-lights when I got close (Rant: Use your parking lights at night-sky events! Headlights will ruin everyone's night vision and photos...) parked in a near-empty lot and headed out onto the dam. There was a creepy moment when I realized there were people on the dam, clustered in darkness, not using any lights. We thought we'd be alone... but we were not. There were probably close to 100 people out (most had parked on the other side), chatting in 3 or 4 languages. Turns out it was a party. People were hanging out, showing off photos, comparing camera settings (400-800 iso, Fstop 2-5, as low as you can, 10-30s exposure depending), exchanging news from space-meteorologists, and just having a great time.
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| "A thing is happening!" |
Apparently, the burst we'd missed was incredible up here. There was lingering elation in the crowd and some of the shots were stunning. But the night was young, and it was only predicted to get better. So we started shooting. There was a dim glow almost indistinguishable from a town over the horizon, but in the camera you could see clear bands of red. Knowing where to look, I could finally make it out with my naked eye. Done! If nothing else, I could check it off my list. Then even that started to fade, and by 9:30 the aurora was barely-visible on film and the crowd had started to thin. That was about the point where someone said "I've got something on film, over that hill" - and we all duly turned our cameras over that hill and started snapping, picking up on film what we couldn't with our eyes.
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| <Excited rambling and tripping over words> |
It was a more interesting layout than we'd had before, so we kept snapping, and we could see it strengthening in our shots. The buzz of the crowd picked up. The red patch became clearly visible to the human eye, and you could watch it fade in and out, regions sliding through the sky. And then, suddenly, it kicked off hard. A thin band stretched up and all the way across the sky. It was the best thing I'd ever seen. Then more bands appeared and they all started their slow-dance. Greens joined in with the reds. The crowd went wild. Shutter speeds were reduced and pictures were constant. I dashed off a quick text to my family "NOW. It's going hard" and still it intensified. Normally, the aurora looks far better in pictures than real life. Now was not the case, as pictures were too slow to capture the ripples of the individual fingers - but the pictures were still fantastic.
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| "Oh it's still so good!" |
It was magical and glorious, and the months and hours of anticipation made the reward all the sweeter. Everyone was talking, sharing their ecstasy. The only thing it's really comparable to IME was the eclipse, strangers all coming together and sharing a moment of beauty and triumph, and we were all just as excited. The core faded slightly, and the aurora was all around us. North-west had been best, but now north, northeast, and west had strong flares of red. There was hazier red to the southwest, and even southeast overhead there was a gently lambent trident in the sky, like a footprint of some celestial duck.
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| Quack |
By 10:30 it had faded back to the dull-glow we started with. It started getting cold, we started experimenting with even more different shots and camera settings. I checked my texts, where my brother in PA had a great view off his deck, and my mom had even gotten some shots from my old elementary school. The Chinese group next to us was still super excited, and must have taken a hundred pictures of a stuffed Winnie-The-Pooh in front of the aurora, but the second wave of exodus was reducing our numbers. By 11 or 11:15 it was dark-dark, and we resorted to checking the space-weather apps (mine was rather useless) but held onto hope. By 11:30 we'd broken light-discipline and were checking out the fog on the water with high-powered flashlights. By 11:50 I was cold, and decided to call it a night.
So I can finally cross it off my list, but it's too late. Much like the eclipse, I'm hooked.
A few random tips, mostly for myself.
- Bring extra cards and batteries. Wasn't a problem, but always wise.
- Bring extra tripods. One dude almost missed the peak when his broke, but we managed to help him get it fixed right before the strengthening
- Red flash-lights are a blessing. Bring two.
- Make sure to defog your lens. Especially if you're shooting on the shore of a lake.
- Dress warm, warmer than you think. I grabbed my winter coat for the first time this year on a whim and was still chilly by the end of the night.
- Bring a chair
- Shoot a lot, even if it's meh. The practice will pay off
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| Accidental selfie |
