A Southern lights story - Stewart Island, New Zealand
There is something the Northern Lights do to you—attracting you like a magnet towards the poles. Six months after witnessing the Northern Lights, here I am, off to witness the Southern Lights at the southernmost inhabited part of New Zealand—Stewart Island. The journey till there is remarkable in itself. And that final leg of the journey in a tiny aircraft with just two others, a basket of food on one seat along with our strewn luggage—what can I say! I was so close to the pilot that I was literally observing, like a hawk, how he controlled the plane. It was mind-blowing.
I had four nights and planned to go stargazing with an astronomer. He got sick. Each day, I waited for him to heal. But for four nights, all I could do was wait, as he remained unwell. So there I was, climbing the steep Observation Rock with my feeble mobile torch late at night (the phenomenon peaks in the 11 pm to 2 am window), panting. I was hyper-alert. I ran the last stretch to the Observation Rock viewpoint, cried my eyes out, alone, waiting for the lights.
One night, I met the President of the Antarctic Society and another board member, and found company to walk back—as coincidence had it, they were staying at the same hostel as I was. On my fourth night (the last night before my return), shivering in the cold, under the clear Milky Way, checking aurora alerts, I waited. I saw something. It was a faint aurora. I photographed it. I crashed into my bed after climbing down.
Just as I was about to sleep, my aurora alert app beeped, hinting at a strong geomagnetic storm. I rushed out again, climbed back up, and immersed myself in the moment. I photographed it—only to realise later that it hadn’t been captured. They say there are sacred moments in one’s life that cannot be photographed. The Southern Lights were such a close encounter—with humility, with one’s own existence.
On a similar note is my story of seeing the tiny blue penguins. On my last chance to see them, dejected, I walked back, my neck turning automatically for one final look. And there it was—a tiny blue penguin. I couldn’t photograph it properly. On my return journey, when I spotted a blue penguin soft toy, I bought it—to always remember that magical moment.