Days and nights ran together as I became one with my truck, camper and Mother Nature while chasing the lights in the Brooks Range of northern Alaska. It was late March and the northland was slowly being liberated from the dark, icy grip of old man winter.
On the day before heading homeward I drove beyond the range and onto the North Slope. From this vantage point I could see forever and at 9 o'clock sharp green auroral bands began their dance. I retreated back into what I coined the cusp - where the Brooks Range meets the Slope - and from here I witnessed the apex of a three-week aurora hunt.
I saw it developing four hundred miles away on the far northern horizon: the solar wind composing a melody of light as it interacted with gases in our ionosphere. A bright score of illumination began growing, loops uncoiling as bars of light yawned skyward, the tempo gaining momentum. The moonlit mountains and midnight blue sky provided the perfect backdrop. Multiple bands of brilliant teal and pink auroras dazzled my senses as they blazed up and over my head in the shape of a tuning fork, and hit their "Crescendo" note.
It was music to my eyes.