, 2 min, 356 words
Tags: alaska kayak-adventures
You know that feeling when something so incredible happens that you just go quiet? When time seems to slow down, or maybe speed up, or generally cease to be significant in the moment?
I am most familiar with this experience in the context of whales. I've seen a lot of whales over the last few months, and it's almost always the same feeling. Once people aren't worried about spotting it and can focus on watching it, the entire boat goes silent. It's a beautiful moment – shared enjoyment and awe and wonder all rolled into one.
As guides, my colleagues and I still appreciate those moments. But because we've seen several whales in the past, and because we tend to have things that need doing, we often work through these special experiences. Imagine my delight, then, when we all got to experience that sort of moment – together – one last time on our end of season trip. We were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the northern lights.
Let me set the scene: we've finished two days of intensive end-of-season cleaning and finally headed out of Seward for the last time this summer. All our food for the next five days is piled in the living room of our rental house. People have been milling about and tooling around on the lake, but it's grown dark, so everyone slowly converges inside. Margaritas and chips with guac are the name of the game. Then someone pokes their head inside and says "hey guys, you should come check this out. The northern lights are on!"
There's a murmur of excitement. People move towards the deck, which overlooks the lake to the north. Someone dashes inside to turn off interior lights. Everyone is out on the deck, layered up and watching the northern sky, where there is a single thin band of dim green light. And everything is quiet.
We sat, stood, and in one case slept there for some time. I really couldn't tell you how long. It was a beautiful shared moment, and a perfect start to the end of the season.