Behind the Shot: A Night With Aurora Borealis

Chasing the Solar Winds, and Finding Them At Last

By Sam Bugas - November 2023

Reykjanes Peninsula, Iceland

Why “Behind the Shot”?

Behind the Shot is an opportunity for every artist or art lover to maintain an appreciation for what makes photography special. There is no right or wrong in art, although I sometimes struggle to accept this. Instead there is depth, or a lack thereof. With AI generating art at an unrelenting pace, and with the power of editing and composite work producing otherworldly, beautiful images, the key differentiator must be story. It is story that provides depth to every great painting. It is story that keeps us awake, next to a fire in the woods, gleeful for the opportunity to adventure. It is story that we must rely on to keep photography, in its purest sense, relevant. Behind the shot is where I will write about the stories behind my favorite shots, or vis versa, the shots behind my favorite stories.


The Location: Reykjanes Peninsula, Iceland

In this Behind the Shot, we go to the far West coast of Iceland where, branching off like a tendril of the island, lies the Reykjanes Peninsula. The peninsula perfectly embodies what makes Iceland special: dramatic sea cliffs, turbid storms crashing into the shore, and in recent years, a great degree of volcanic activity. Throughout the peninsula lie the varied locations of the recent eruptions: Fagradalsfjall (the name of the broader volcano system), Meradalir, and Litli-Hrutur. The peninsula is also home to Grindavik, the town that has recently been evacuated due to the heightening risk of a fourth eruption.

The rugged shoreline, tracing the edge of the dramatic peninsula. A storm is coming in, and the angry seas unrelentingly pound the cliffs and shore. We’d spend our evening here, feeling the rhythmic thumping of waves beating the earth.

A Brief History of Our Search for the Solar Winds

Spending an evening on the far end of the Reykjanes Peninsula was not an act of impulse. Years into a goal of finding the Northern Lights, this was the latest location we’d chosen to try to find them. Nearly three years ago, my girlfriend (now wife) and I travelled to the far northern town of Fairbanks, Alaska in the hopes that we’d see the elusive northern lights. The time of year was right, and we went in with what, in hindsight, was an ignorant set of expectations. The lights may have been there, but the predictably challenging mid-winter weather of the Alaskan North kept us from seeing them. We’d have to wait for another opportunity to find the lights.

Less than a year later, and with tempered expectations, we made our first migration to Iceland. We rented a car with a rooftop tent and a stove, feeling we had the maneuverability necessary to seek out the lights. Again, the weather was the deciding factor, and our pursuit of the lights would prove nearly impossible. During our time in Iceland, we would only get one partially clear night. With a nearly full moon, and a midnight storm set to come in, we’d yet again learn the harsh lessons that only hunting a solar storm can teach. The ghostly lights, existing like legends of folk tails, would elude us, leaving us with an even greater sense of reverence. For them to prove so challenging to find would make our third pursuit that much more exciting.

Another two years would go by before we could make our way back to Iceland, this time with only a limited amount of time available to chase the lights. Freshly married and set to leave for the Faroe Islands a day later, we had one evening to hunt the lights. Taking the advice of a local into consideration, we decided to point ourselves towards the Reykjanes Peninsula. We had one evening, and we were fully prepared to wait in the freezing temperatures for the cosmic show to find us. This time, our study, our patience, and our luck would all be vindicated; the lights would come.

Our first sight of Aurora Borealis would be a subtle one. The flickering arc of light would lift off the horizon like a wandering cloud, settling for a time over the pulsing light of the Reykjanes Lighthouse. This was the start, not the end, but we’d have left happy if this was it.

The Conditions

For the Aurora hunters out there, I want to briefly include this blurb on our auroral conditions. If you don’t want to get into the data weeds, feel free to skip this, but I think there is a lesson to be learned. Our conditions at the time aurora first began to show on the horizon were lackluster at best. We were given a 2% chance of seeing the lights on the horizon, and a 0% chance of seeing them overhead. KP was between 1 and 2, BZ hovered near zero, solar winds were moving at 450km/s, density was 5 or less, and BT was around 4. I strongly encourage you to dig into each of these variables for yourself, as they can be a great indicator of the chances of a storm, but please take my advice and toss your expectations out. With variables that suggested a mild storm if we were lucky, Aurora had other plans.

In a matter of seconds, what began as a subtle auroral arc began to spread into a larger display.

After 10-15 seconds, the whole sky, horizon to horizon, was filled with the dancing waves of the aurora.

The Show

There’s a few thousand years of chronicled aurora sightings wherein poets, authors, painters, politicians and priests all muse about the otherworldly affair that is the northern lights. The truth is that none of them captured their essence completely, and I certainly won’t be able to either. The sensation of being below a large aurora display is the most compelling I’ve ever experienced, and words simply won’t do it justice. Still, I’m a long winded man, so I have to give it a try.

Like a song played in nothing but non-complementary notes, there is a sensation of rehearsed chaos. It’s as if all these notes, as random as they seem when played beside each other, form something that in and of itself makes perfect sense. Aurora is a lot like this; chaotic harmony dancing through the sky.

A tower of soft glowing light, immeasurably large, sits idly, flickering like the flame of a candle. Pulsing and breathing, it seems ready to fade away before suddenly a pulsing wave breaks from its core. This wave, as fast as any perceivable motion, juts out throughout the whole sky, dancing with the elegance of energy itself. Hydrogen and helium dance in hues of blue and purple, occasionally giving way to the vivid reds of oxygen burning in the upper altitudes of the show. As quickly as one wave is born, another is thrown towards the horizon like the faded path of a shooting star. These waves continue to give birth to one another, dancing in perfect, and wildly chaotic, harmony. The sky is alive, and the ground glows green. In time, the only way to see it all (an arguably impossible feat), is to lie on the ground, gazing upwards, possibly crying.

The dancing columns of the Aurora, flickering between green, blue, purple and red.

The reds of high altitude oxygen molecules beautifully contrast with the green glow that now fills the atmosphere. The Milky Way bisects the image, brightly lingering behind the auroral display.

The Gear

Behind every photograph is a collection of gear. I won’t say that my gear is the perfect, or most necessary gear, as I believe you can capture this event with an endless array of different combinations. I will eventually write a dedicated how-to about chasing and photographing aurora, but until then, here is the gear that got the job done for me:

Aurora Chasing Gear:

  • Warm clothes! Seems obvious, but your night will be cut short, and your odds of finding aurora diminished dramatically, if you find yourself in the perfect spot entirely focus on mending your burning fingers, feet and face. Stay warm!

  • Aurora Apps:

    • Aurora Forecast for a great visual interface with a live map and up to date statistics.

    • Aurora Alerts for an easy-to-understand short forecast system that also offers basic explanations for each variable.

    • My Aurora Forecast for a great map of the auroral ring, the cloud coverage, and a useful (and entertaining) list of the best places to find aurora at any given time.

My Aurora Photography Gear:

  • Nikon Z8: The low light ability, and nighttime friendly features, of this camera are next level. I feel entirely comfortable operating this camera in the dark, which is what’s most important, but when I slip up, the buttons light up too! This can be quite useful.

  • Nikon Nikkor 17-28 F/2.8 Lens: This lens is my ideal wide angle lens for a number of reasons. It is plenty bright for aurora or astro photography (f/2.8 or wider is very useful), it is very small, and it is weather resistant. I’d love to have and shoot with the Nikon 14-24mm F/2.8, but it is bigger, heavier, and a lot more expensive. The 17-28mm just does the trick!

  • Ulanzi Travel Tripod: This thing is more or less a piece of junk, and the only takeaway I’d offer is that the sturdier and easier to operate tripod you have, the easier it will be to shoot aurora. Having a tripod is 100% essential.

  • Batteries, SD cards, and lens cloths: It’s cold, there might be rain or sea spray, and these photo files can become massive with long exposures and possible time lapses. You will want at least three batteries, a few SD cards, and a lens cloth to make sure you aren’t caught unable to shoot when the show is really going.


About Me

I have shot photos for nearly five years, with a consistent focus on capturing moments of action and environment while I am outside. I’ve dabbled in quite a few different genres of photography, and I’ve found that my favorite moments to take a photo are when the wind is whipping, the air is freezing, and I’m far away from home. Over the last year, I’ve come to the realization that taking photos and telling stories are two very different things. My goal is to become a story teller that can work in the worst environments and come away with compelling sets of photos and written stories that help me, and others, to relive the essence of an adventure. I am focused on continuing to grow as a visual story teller so that I may someday leverage my skills to successfully work within conservation and expedition photography.

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