My journey to the North and its lights

The shore of the Kivijärvi, a Finnish lake near the border with Norway, consists of large rounded stones. They make a great foreground in photos, although standing on them is far from easy. It was both for me and for my tripod. In fact, as I slipped, I touched it and with a nice thud, my Sony A7 III ended up in the water.

As if that wasn't enough, the lens was also attached to the camera. However, my long cherished dream of seeing and photographing the Northern Lights finally came true that evening, and my sorrow was somewhat alleviated. As I pull the Sony on the tripod out of the lake and see it dripping like spaghetti into a colander, I remember that the SD card also ended up in the water. My photos!

My guide Peter, who has stowed his things a few metres back, reassures me: the data is safe, the SD cards are waterproof. Relieved, I collect my equipment and return to the car, where Susanne, the other participant in our expedition, is equally enthusiastic about taking photos. She preferred to stay on dry land and not venture into the rocks of the lake, a very sensible decision.

49 years in a flash

I've been wanting to see the Northern Lights for years. That's how it goes with these wishes, you put them off always thinking you want to fulfil them and in a flash you find yourself 49 years old and still not having done it. So last winter I finally turned to a travel agency.

The offer did not convince me. I would have flown to Tromsø and could have taken 'individual excursions', 'for example a dog sled ride'. The second part of the trip would have taken me to a resort in a fjord, with no other special activities. I soon realised that I needed someone who knew the place.
I found it to be a bit of a waste of time.
I found him shortly afterwards here at Digitec Galaxus. In a review on the Sony 14 mm lens, I read that it was great for photographing the northern lights. Where he had taken these photos, I wanted to know from the author. He replied with a link to his Nordlicht-Fotoreisen. That's how I got to know Peter Schurte.

Yes, yes, said Peter

Peter is an Aargauer in his fifties who produces videos for companies. I asked him what kind of people went on his photographic trips. I was not looking for company for misogynistic and xenophobic jokes, that's what I wrote to Peter. He replied that he only takes two or three guests at a time, that they get to know each other before departure, and that he has never had any problems with racism or the like. Moreover, he too wants to get to know the participants and attendees first. A very good starting point.

We met at Kloten airport in the spring, on Peter's return from a trip to the Northern Lights. With a broad smile, he pulled out a stack of papers from his gigantic photo backpack. It was full of Google Maps screenshots, descriptions of places and routes, and fantastic photos of auroras. "Wow, this is beautiful!" I exclaimed. Yes, yes, said Peter, but you have to know that Norwegian weather is capricious and wild. In order to photograph the aurora borealis, the sky must be cloudless and light activity must be high. He knows a lot of places and if the weather is not ideal in one place, one can spontaneously attempt it in another area, but it does not promise anything. That is why he also hikes during the day, because the clouds are also spectacular to photograph. Like Norway in general.

So it will probably not be so easy to realise my wish. Nevertheless, I accept his offer. I liked Peter and if it hadn't gone well with the Northern Lights, it would still have been a good trip.

You know what would be nice?

Peter found a second participant: Susanne, from Basel-Landschaft, who is very quiet and has already seen half the world. We met at her house in Zofingen to get to know each other. She also wanted to do a star photo session with us to see if we knew how to use the equipment. Getting to know each other was easy, the photos of the stars anything but. Light pollution is now so extreme that there are practically no places where you can observe the night sky without disturbance. Peter took us to a dark hill in the neighbouring canton of Lucerne. The Milky Way was faintly visible, but all around it shone various bells of yellow light.

You know what would be nice? A few car-free Sundays a year and a few lightless nights. And, in general, the knowledge on the part of companies that nobody is interested in their shop windows and logos between 11pm and 7am.

Always a lot of clouds

The 5th of September arrived. My suitcase was full of winter clothes, which was quite absurd given the frighteningly high temperatures here. After four hours we arrived in Tromsø. It was windy, cold and raining. And that's how it was going to stay too.

By hire car, we reached the island of Senja and stayed in a nice Scandinavian house. In the evening it had stopped raining, but the sky was completely overcast. Peter had checked all the weather, wind and northern lights apps and the forecast was not good, but: the weather is out. A phrase he would repeat many more times. Initially, I did not understand what he meant. Peter explained that one thing is what the apps report, but that can change at any time, especially here. And that is why it is always worth trying. We tried it and arrived in a small pitch-black bay. As soon as we got out of the car, a colossal downpour hit us. So we came back.

If you go to Norway to see the Northern Lights and you can't see them because the clouds keep coming in from the coast, it's a real test of character. You have to keep calm. You have to keep telling yourself: yes, the northern lights would be beautiful, but so is everything else, plus you've only been here three days, there are still eight days to go.

On the fourth evening, although the apps left no room for hope, but Peter reminded us that the weather was out, we caught a small patch of cloudlessness and a glimpse of the northern lights. The joy was enormous. And brief. The clouds closed in after a few minutes. But, hey: we saw it! We saw the aurora borealis.

The camera sees more than you do

A brief digression on the expression 'seeing the aurora borealis': the human eye is clearly superior to a camera's sensor in the discipline of distinguishing between light and dark, however, in recognising colours in the dark it is exactly the opposite. I still don't understand the meaning of the saying 'in the dark all cats are grey', but in photographic terms it is absolutely true.

When looking at the sky, the aurora borealis does not appear as spectacular as in photographs. The bands of light that suddenly appear and dance in a funny way are still absolutely enchanting, even if one only delicately recognises that they are green and sometimes purple. This does not detract from the fascinating spectacle that takes place at an altitude of 100-200 kilometres. It all becomes really impressive just in photos or on the camera display. This is why one remains glued to the screens, completely enchanted, forgetting to look directly at the celestial spectacle, which is ultimately more beautiful despite the pale colours.

After all, everything is perfect

On the eighth evening, we were finally able to admire the Northern Lights for longer. The clouds had cleared, albeit very stubbornly. The photos came out well, but nowhere near as good as those in Peter's tour catalogue. My patience was tested, which, ironically, visibly relaxed me. I had seen and photographed the northern lights, not in the way I wanted, but when in life does something happen exactly the way you want it to?

The answer is: on the ninth day. It seems that the area across the border to Finland will be cloudless that day and evening. We pack up everything and set off, taking almost three hours to arrive. Dusk is approaching and we look for a good spot. The background and foreground have to look their best. And a stretch of water would be great for reflection effects. We find a lake, but somehow it doesn't fit, the scene is too narrow. We continue on and find another lake, but without access. It is getting darker and darker. "Here! Here!" says Susanne, who has discovered a small clearing next to the road. Peter turns back. We hurry down to the shore. Peter and I are thrilled. It's perfect. Susanne prefers to stay close to the car and save her equipment from the danger threatening mine, because I absolutely have to go to the front.

But it was worth it. And when I ask my insurance advisor at home if my home insurance also covers drowned cameras, he replies: 'Yes, this is also covered. Thank goodness!

Few cars, lots of nature and great photos

I can highly recommend Norway (and of course Peter as a guide). It is beautiful and wonderfully deserted. You see very few cars and lots of nature. And maybe even the Northern Lights, even if you have to go all the way to Finland. In return you get some great photos!