A moment of bliss

Well, when ColumbusGuy last posted, the clan was off on a lark to see the Aurora Borealis, 1,500 miles away, out of season, in the snow, at Hudson Bay, or James, anyway.

ColumbusGal has always loved Alaska, a gift from her father, and during the past few years she's had a few life-scale events that have put her to thinking. And one of the things she was thinking that, when she turned 40, she wanted to mark the occasion by seeing the Northen Lights.

But how does one do that? And on no budget? We had let it slide, unspoken, until a few days before, she said she wanted to see the Northern Lights when she turned 40.

By God, she did.

Over 72 hours, nearly exactly, we drove 3,000 miles, nearly exactly.

We left Columbus Dec. 20, for northwest Ohio, where we planned to celebrated Christmas Dec. 23 with my family. After dropping our presents there, about 4:30 p.m., we drove our sub-polar explorer to Windsor, thence to Toronto, thence north past Algonquin Provincial Park, about eight hours' worth. After that it was all two lane roads, with us filling up at every gas station, since we never quite knew when we'd reach the last one. By about 7 a.m., we were having breakfast in French at a diner south of Amos. By 9:30 a.m., we were in Matagami, where the weather was overcast, we were wiped out, the tourist center was closed, and it looked like another eight hours to Chisasibi, our destination, where the Hudson Bay meets the James Bay.

670 kilomters. One gas station, half way. Cold. Nothing but trees, and they're skinny, dinky, Charlie Brown Christmas, approaching the tree line trees. So we went.

At the gas station (which so resembles an arctic compound we drove right past it, even though we knew it was the only thing around for miles) they warn us about the caribou. 30 was the most we saw at once. Usually we saw them a dozen or so at a time. The road is plowed regularly and salted, and the caribou love the salt, so they stand on the road. I'm good at seeing cars and mechanical things, but I'd starve in the wilds because camouflage works on me. You haven't felt your heart pump until you're heading at a caribou at 40 mph on an icy road. Fortunately, ColumbusGal has nature eyes and got through safely.

For a good part of the way, you see a car each 15 minutes. Sometimes it's 30 minutes, or 45.

By 7:30 p.m. we've reached Chisasibi, where I proceed to get us stuck in the snow. Even so, we make it to the restaurant just as they prepare to close, and they agree to serve us. We're hoping for some unusual native fare, but end up having the worst fried fish, frozen vegetables meal we've ever eaten.

By this point, we're pretty well worn out. It's a solid 32 hours since we'd left, and for whatever reason, we can't find the security guard who is supposed to let us into the hotel. We understand; it's not like they ave a lot of visitors this time of year. Plus, it's in a community center that is the picture of poverty and inspires no security or even hygiene.

So we bail, and drive to Radisson, an hour or so away, and the night is clear, clear , clear and the stars are bright bright bright. Before long, ColumbusDaughter says, "Look out the window," as much question as statement. ColumbusGal looks.

"There they are," she says in a voice rich with satisfaction, speaking to herself as she begins the sentence and to us as she ends it. For 45 minutes we watched as the band faded, intensified, broke into separate blobs, rejoined, shot tendrils upward. It was so cold we could stay outside the car for only a few minutes before needing to warm up again. Silent. Clear. Subtle. Brilliant. A life event.

And then we went to Radisson, and found the hotel, trailers assembled into a building, and went to sleep. Breakfast early next morning, and on the road by 9:30 a.m. 27 hours back, 20 hours of it on icy roads.

It worked. We did it. The Northern Lights, on our schedule, against odds, with difficulties and with opportunities to turn back. As ColumbusGal said, "It was as if they came out just for us."