We traveled more than ninety-six kilometers to photograph the northern lights. Turns out it’s not as easy as it seems.
Nine thousand two hundred ninety-six kilometers separate Mexico from Sweden. It takes approximately three flights, a train, a truck, and a lift to reach the top of Mount Nuolja, in Abisko, the best place to see the northern lights… or not.
Like any great trip, we had everything planned months ago: the flights, the hotels, the extra coats and socks, the number of suitcases, the excitement of making such a long journey to go see some lights in the sky, those that everything the world would like to see one day and which adorn Swedish tourist brochures.
Goteborg in neon
Before the snow, before the polar nights and the miniature towns, we arrived in Gothenburg, the second largest city in Sweden and fifth in all of Scandinavia although it feels small.
In Gothenburg the winter light is special, if the sky is clear during the six hours of the day, the sun illuminates the city with a premature sunset, which highlights the profiles of the city and covers them in yellow tones, as if It would be a staging in the middle of the street. Then, right at three in the afternoon, the yellows turn into light blues, cold tones that match the temperature. The sunlight is occluded and the deep reds and neon blues of the buildings appear.
It was barely five in the afternoon, although it seemed like midnight when we went out to explore the city chasing the neon signs. We go to Centrum, with its shops, cinemas, and restaurants, and continue through Trädgårdföreningen Park which houses the PalmHuset, a greenhouse for tropical plants, in the middle of the winter weather, and Götaplatsen, the cultural heart of the city, a square opened in 1921 for celebrating the 300th anniversary of the city and where the Konstsmuseum, the Koserthus, the Stadsteater, and the public library are gathered. The artificial light and architecture give the sensation of a film noir, where each stranger dressed in a coat could reveal top-secret information, in Swedish, of course.
Finally, we arrive at Liseberg, the most visited amusement park in the region where Christmas and mulled wine stalls are set up every winter. There, perhaps because of jetlag or -1º, we thought we saw some faint greenish lights in the sky, just above the Ferris wheel. We dismissed them as auroras, we were very far south, and we knew that we needed to climb much higher, and get closer to the Arctic.
Kiruna, the city that is in the process of moving
To get to Abisko you have to go through Kiruna, which from the plane looks completely snowy, a white color barely interrupted by black pine trees that at one in the afternoon receive the last rays of sun, which paint the snow pink and yellow. Kiruna is known for a couple of things: for being the northernmost city in the country, for its church, which in 2001 was voted the most beautiful building in Sweden, for the Esrange Space Center which is located very close to the center but above all, for its mine, owned by LKAB, where they produce the purest iron on the planet. Everyone in Kiruna works or knows someone who works in the mine. However, the overexploitation of the mine has put the city at risk of sinking, which will have to be relocated three kilometers away. It sounds more tragic than it is. The planned move began in 2014 and White Architekter, the Swedish firm in charge of the project, estimates that it will be completed in 30 years. Perhaps that is why the city seems to be covered by an ephemeral charm, the aura of a future ghost town that increases in the winter, with snow and lack of light.
We walk and we know that everything we see, every building, statue, and supermarket, in a few years will no longer be there, it will be collapsed or be swallowed by the earth. Kiruna: chronicle of a death foretold. Few things will remain with the move, among them the church, built in 1912, completely made of wood with a silhouette that resembles a Sami goahti (tent). Also saved will be the town hall clock and the sign (neon, the first in the center) of the Centrum store, which opened in 1933, shortly after the city was founded and which has become an unofficial meeting point for the locals. Everything else will be new; new streets, houses, buildings, stories, memories. Everything is new, at least until the mine reaches them again.
We have not stopped turning to the sky. Kiruna is far enough north to allow you to see the auroras even from the city center. Later that night we moved to the outskirts to take a dog sled and go into the forest and thus, perhaps, have our first sighting. We arrived at Lapland Sleddog Adventures where 40 Alaskan huskies were waiting for us, excited, barking, and desperate to get started. Each sled is pulled by 12 dogs and once they start, they don’t stop. They are going at full speed, perfectly coordinated, traveling along a small snow-covered path in the middle of the trees. Now and then one opens his mouth to eat snow, cool off, and continue running. We arrived at a small moonlit clearing where there was a tent with a campfire and hot chocolate. The tour lasts a couple of hours during which our gaze goes from the dogs to the sky, hoping to see something but without having any luck. In the end, we say goodbye to our pack, who, exhausted and happy, return to their little houses to rest.
Polar night in Abisko
When the train stops at the Abisko station it is completely dark and snowing. Only ten people get out of the car and we separate into two groups that move by inertia. There is no one waiting at the station, there are no indications either, the nightmare of the unsuspecting traveler. We walk in the dark towards Abisko Guest House, while the polar night reigns around us. Here, for six months there is barely a trace of light, which creates the ideal conditions to see the northern lights, zero light pollution.