3 min read

Chasing the Northern Lights

Chasing the northern lights isn’t simple. We spend long, cold nights watching forecasts, driving remote snowy roads, and hoping for a break in the clouds. Most times nature wins—but the rare moments when the aurora finally appears feel extraordinary after everything we endure.
Waiting, waiting, waiting
Waiting, waiting, waiting

It’s easy to imagine the northern lights as something you simply step outside and admire, but the reality for us is far more unpredictable. Chasing aurora means accepting long stretches of waiting, watching forecasts, and hoping that tonight the clouds finally give us a break. Even when the KP index is strong and the solar wind is promising, we know there are no guarantees.

For the most part we ignore KP as it doesn't translate into anything very meaningful.Most nights start with excitement and end with us quietly accepting that nature will always have the final say.

Our chase often takes us down remote roads in heavy snow, where the journey itself becomes as demanding as the sky we’re chasing. We creep along icy mountain passes and glide through quiet valleys in the dead of night, guided only by snow glow and instinct. When the battery dips low, we stop for another top-up—long, cold charging sessions in empty car parks, snow swirling around the car while we watch the percentage crawl upward.

And then there’s the cold. We step out into the freezing darkness, setting up the tripod with numb fingers while the wind bites through every layer we’re wearing. We stare upwards, willing the clouds to thin, catching the faintest hints of colour dancing behind them. Every glimmer feels like a promise—until the sky closes again, leaving us with nothing but patience and the crunch of snow beneath our boots.

Sometimes the night simply ends that way: knowing the aurora is firing above us, but never revealing itself. We stand there, freezing, hoping for the tiniest opening—a gap, a sliver, a moment—but alas, the clouds never part. And yet that’s part of why we keep coming back.

The northern lights aren’t guaranteed; they’re chased, endured, and that rare moment when they do appear feels all the more extraordinary because of everything we go through to find them.

Our cabin on Senja Island, Norway
Our cabin on Senja Island, Norway
Driving remote roads outside Tromsø, Norway
Driving remote roads outside Tromsø, Norway
Cloud filled skies outside Tromsø, Norway
Cloud filled skies outside Tromsø, Norway
But we're setup anyways, just in case.
But we're setup anyways, just in case.
Sitting around and waiting
Sitting around and waiting
At a popular viewing spot
At a popular viewing spot
The cloud breaks and we get a tease
The cloud breaks and we get a tease
We head for previously scouted locations with good foreground scenery
We head for previously scouted locations with good foreground scenery
But conditions just get worse
But conditions just get worse
Making for a challenging drive back to Tromsø
Making for a challenging drive back to Tromsø
Our snow covered car from the drive
Our snow covered car from the drive
Before heading back into the parking tunnels under Tromsø
Before heading back into the parking tunnels under Tromsø
And park up after an unsuccessful hunt
And park up after an unsuccessful hunt
It is often the tease of the lights above the clouds that gives you hope and keeps you out there
It is often the tease of the lights above the clouds that gives you hope and keeps you out there
In the blistering cold
In the blistering cold

But when they finally appear—after all the chasing, waiting, and hoping—there’s truly no feeling in the world quite like it.

Here is a great video from Porsche documenting the videographer Marcus Valeur aurora chase.

Be inspired.

Porsche film on chasing the northern lights in Lofoten Islands