Yukon It Up

In which I seek the Northern Lights

Every year my sisters and I take a sibling trip. We began this tradition in 2018 with a weekend in San Diego.

In the years since, we’ve visited New York City, Seattle, Iceland, and - last week - the Canadian Yukon. In a sign of just how unobservant I can be, I somehow got it into my brain that this year’s sibling trip was to Alaska until just a few weeks before we left. Luckily I double-checked my flight information, packed my passport, and set out with my sisters to chase down the Northern Lights.

It took trying to see the aurora borealis to bother looking up what they actually were. Previously, my main source of familiarity with the light display was from that one Simpsons episode.

But - in the tundra of Northern Canada - I found myself with a newfound desire to know about things like KP indexes and how cloud coverage can affect your ability to see the dancing lights caused by solar winds. The sun would go down in the Yukon around 4 PM, giving my sisters and me enough time to eat dinner, take a quick nap, and then be bundled up in layer upon layer as we took the chance to look northward in search of profundity.

And profundity was what I was looking for. I expected to be changed by the Northern Lights. Literally, nothing but a total and complete reexamination of my inner person and goals and desires in life would be accepted. Despite how that sounds, this isn’t too much to ask. You see, I’m an easy lay when it comes to the profound.

I have felt a rumble in my tummy that comes with understanding your place in the cosmos multiple times in the last ten years. I’ve felt it as I stared out into the ocean while on a cruise ship. I’ve felt it while standing under a waterfall in Iceland. I felt it during the opening tracking shot through a wheat field as I watched a 4K restoration of OKLAHOMA! on the big screen. I felt it most recently during a U2 concert in Las Vegas’ Sphere Arena. It doesn’t take much to make me feel small and insignificant in the shadow of the universe around me. I like that feeling - it centers me and reminds me that the things that bring me stress and cause me sleepless nights don’t matter that much. I like knowing that everything I accomplish in life will - one day - be meaningless and forgotten. It gives me the freedom to fail and fuck up.

And so, as I stood under the night sky in Yukon, Canada, I opened myself up to that familiar feeling. Only it didn’t come. I suspect the feeling was partly kept at bay because of how cold it was. You can only be so introspective when your testicles have fully retracted into your body. More than that, though, the lights just weren’t that visible - at least to the naked eye. I needed my phone’s camera to see anything that remotely resembled the Northern Lights that all the tourist brochures had promised - and even those camera-presented lights were muted. It looked more like a UFO abduction off in the distance than a natural phenomenon.

In the end, I don’t really feel like I saw the Northern Lights. My camera captured some cool photos but I didn’t get that profound experience I had been looking for. But I’m OK with that. I had an amazing time doing wintery things - like snowmobiling, ice fishing, and having icicles form in my beard.

I also spent a lot of time catching up with my sisters, who I love very much. I read some good books, slept some good naps, and mostly kept away from work.

It was a good vacation.

I’ve had an incredible year - full of more opportunities both professionally and personally than I could have ever expected. I’m in a fantastic relationship with a woman I love, on a weekly basis I hear from folks who have read my comic book and dug it, and I got to travel the country and see some amazing sights - who cares if I didn’t get a chance to quake in my boots as I was made witness to the complete and utter awesomeness of the cosmos while in Canada.

At least I had a Tim Horton’s donut.