Northern Lights Hunt - Bonus Part

"No offence, but I hope I don't see you again," I said to the barman as we left Agenturet beer and winebar.  In one of Tromso's oldest buildings, it was such a nice space to sit and relax in, we'd returned on our surprise extra night.

So far in life, I've had quite good luck with flights.

I made up for this in one trip, here are the reasons why my flights were delayed:

• Fog at destination
• Crew delayed because of a previous delayed flight
• Missed connection
• Too windy to land
• Too snowy to take off
• De-icing machine busy
• Technical fault whilst trying to take off
• Plane switched to one with fewer seats, asked to switch for compensation, said no, got switched anyway with no compensation

The clouds were clearing again during the day, but not for long enough for us to be lucky with the lights.  My thanks went out to the friend who advised me that they could actually be seen over the UK at the weekend, so my whole trip was pointless.

My Hunt for the Northern Lights was unsuccessful, so was it worth it?  Well, I'd spent the weekend in a cabin with my family, making jokes about being attacked by ghosts in the middle of nowhere, rested in a hammock over a frozen lake and seen my mum toast her first marshmallow over a fire.

It's not a new or original thought, but I suppose because so much had gone wrong with the journeys that it reminded me that travel isn't about why you go somewhere but what happens whilst you're there.

To be fair, it was pretty snowy.
This plane is at the gate awaiting boarding.
Somewhere behind it is a runway and the rest of the airport.

Northern Lights Hunt - Part Three

The day was something we had to get through before evening.

Luckily, Tromso is self-aware and knows that its winter tourists suffer the day to await the night.  There's a mix of architecture here, from the classic Scandinavian wooden buildings, painted in bold greens and reds, sat against modern designs like the toblerone-eqsue Arctic Cathedral.

By the harbour is a curious building, which would be a boring set of concrete blocks had they not appeared to have collapsed in the cold arctic wind, creating a fallen dominoes effect. 

You can attach the "World's Most Northernly" accolade to almost every attraction here, so when we entered the dominoes, we were in Polaria, the World's Most Northernly Aquarium. 

This is Loffen, a harbour seal in Polaria

It's quite small for an aquarium, with a focus on the lifecycle of the ocean, from tiny plankton through to polar bears.  Its main attraction are the four seals, two bearded ones and two harbour.  You can walk over, under and through the seal pool, giving an illusion of being surrounded by their play area.  There's no seal "show" at Polaria, but visitors are invited to watch the keepers feed and train them, an activity they do five times a day to keep them mentally and physically stimulated.  It was much more engaging and honest than a display that everyone has seen at every zoo and aquarium explaining the differences between seals and sea lions and giving the animals fake personalities.  This way we were able to see the genuine relationships between the keepers and seals, as well as being amazed by them playing fetch and jumping in the air.

I'm dragging on about the day because unfortunately the night was the same story; strong aurora activity predicted but too cloudy to see.  It continued to snow, though.

There are no polar bears in the arctic
because they are all stuffed
in bars in Tromso

Northern Lights Hunt - Part 2

Oh, what are clouds compared to rocks and mountains?

The Sami legend has it that the Northern Lights are our ancestors returning to capture naughty children.  The aurora activity was so high that night, our ancestors would have scolded children in Scotland.  The perfect night to be warmed by a wood fire and watch the lights over a frozen lake.

Or, alternatively, to stand in the cold making small talk about the weather.

The Hunt continues...

Is it an adventure if you don't smell of woodsmoke?

Northern Lights Hunt - Part 1

Arriving in Tromso was a calamity. There was fog in Amsterdam, so each flight was delayed and we missed the connection to Tromso. Added to that, I managed to crack the screen in my new laptop, which is en pointe for my character really.

It was sleeting and sleet means cloud so no aurora that night.

Good Morning, Arctic

The cabin here at Malangen Resort is set right on the sea and the waves lap the rocks under our terrace.  When I woke in the morning, I could see the mountains for the first time in the light.  White and lined with half-bare pine trees they are topped with cloud.

Tonight, we are heading to Camp Nikka, a base about 3km away, to hopefully catch the Northern Lights.

 

Why Costa Rica Will Stay On Your Bucket List

Costa Rica is every first love.  It’s intoxicating and you want to shout about it from the rooftops. For me, it was like walking through a zoo that had lost all its glass barriers.  Monkeys, birds, coatis and iguanas come as close as they please.  Ferns, flowers and huge textured leaves grow like weeds to turn ordinary road verges to vivid life.

Perhaps most surprisingly of all, everyone makes a conscious effort to reduce their impact on wildlife and help it flourish.

My first-sight, butterflies-in-stomach moment was Manuel Antonio; a watercolour of greens leaking into a blue sea and sky.  The hotels near the national park are set into the hill, so it felt like my husband and I were explorers in an undiscovered corner of the world, which is very far from the truth as Manuel Antonio is one of Costa Rica’s most popular national parks, with 475,000 visitors annually. Two squirrel monkeys joined the hotel’s welcome tour (or maybe they were just investigating the pineapple in my cocktail).

Manuel Antonio National Park

The nature in Costa Rica can’t be contained in its national parks, and on a short walk from the hotel guttural chokes surrounded me as my steep path down to the beach met a crossroads with a howler monkey path through the canopy.  My skin was so slick with a layer of water it was difficult to know where my sweat ended and the humidity started. 

Resplendant Quetzal in Monteverde 

Costa Rica is only one-fifth of the size of the UK, so a multi-centre trip is worth the driving time and next on the itinerary was Monteverde.  Our guided tour was more of a chase around the cloud forest, rushing with a bird-watcher’s telescope after the light squeaks of a resplendent quetzal.  That night gale force winds disconnected electricity lines and we were without power for 24 hours, causing hummingbirds to abandon their sugar water feeders, and allowing coatis and their snuffling noses to mop up what was being spilt by the wind. 

Costa Rica is a patchwork of microclimates and Monteverde’s mountainous chilled winds were quickly left behind on the way to Pacific-coast Tamarindo.  Again, the hotel was set amongst the trees, underneath another howler monkey highway which had its peak commuter time at 6am.  Animals weren’t encouraged to come here by the hotel staff (in fact, one person had to spend all day clearing up the droppings the monkeys left behind), but people and wildlife are naturally occupying the same space.

Big ol' tree

Humans make way for birds and mammals and at dusk they make way for armadillos and the clicking bell frogs.  Costa Ricans have realised that they need to co-exist with their incredibly biodiverse country.  Not every single citizen is an eco-warrior, but they recognise that protecting their landscapes is key to the future of their country. 

And, just like first loves, it will be heart-wrenching to say goodbye, but it will leave you a little bit more alive.