As Sitka waited for the dark, (as dark as it ever gets in May) we watched our glorious blue skies fade to dusk and clouds began to form.  The forecast was for cloudy skies after sunset. Sunset is just after 9.  At this time of year there is no “night” as defined by astronomers, only different levels of twilight. 

Despite the prediction of an epic magnetic storm that would produce a massive aurora, as well as predictions of cloud cover, Sitkans waited hopefully. Touching base on social media.

“See anything where you live?”

“No too many clouds,”

“Wait, look straight up!”

“Where are you?”

From our house the skies looked socked-in so I got into the car and drove to Starrigavan, where I usually go chasing the Aurora. I didn’t have a lot of hope.  Lazy slug that I am I didn’t bring the tripod, DSLR camera, and the lenses I usually use for shooting the Aurora.  I had an iPhone.

Starrigavan was a block party.  Every parking space at Old Sitka State Park was occupied. Cars were parked on the road’s shoulders all the way back to the Forest Service campground.  That’s where I parked and walked to the bridge over Starrigavan Creek.

Everyone in town seemed to be there, wanting to participate in the aurora festival that was sweeping the world, even if the skies were still twilight and there was a thin overcast.  But the overcast took on a strange greenish, then reddish, then magenta glow, with a bit of the crescent moon breaking through.

Then spikes of aurora were visible through the clouds accompanied by oohs, aahs and cheers.  I was kicking myself for not bringing the camera and tripod.

Just before midnight the crowd started to thin out and I decided to go to Harbor Mountain.  The gate to the road was locked but the parking area just before the gate had a party going on.  Someone had brought a propane heater.  A police car sat at some distance watching us watching the aurora. 

This was not the best aurora I have ever seen.  Other people from much further south of our 57 degrees are posting much better pics. I was shooting through a thin overcast in a twilight sky with a handheld iPhone.  But they’re not bad. 

It was a sense of occasion.  I was participating in something, in real time, with much of the rest of the world living above about 38 degrees North and South latitude and south of the northern hemisphere’s twilight zone.  Folks from Europe, Australia, Antarctica and across America shared wonder on social media with the rest of the world.