When the conditions are perfect…
Northern Lights over Crooklets Beach, 2026.
When the conditions are perfect…you just need to get out with your camera.
Ironically, I’m writing this sentence whilst watching the sunset on a January evening. Dark purple clouds sit heavy in the sky, and high above, wispy pink candyfloss clouds and a serene deep blue sky. No wind, everything is still. After the rainfall we’ve experienced this week, it makes for a nice contrast.
So, why am I sat inside writing about sometimes you just have to grab the camera and run outside?
Because although the conditions are favourable right now, I’ve made two errors – my camera is not prepared (it’s in need of a very good clean and batteries charging) and the car is low on petrol.
Excuses! I hear you cry. Maybe, but instead of doing nothing, the inspiration to write struck me – which these days is much rarer than my urge to run out with my camera.
Anyway – I’m rambling now.
Let me paint you the scene. It is the evening of the 19th of January, a dear friend of mine had come over to visit. I’d just finished my day job, so was a bit tired, but very excited to see her as she lives out in Germany. We chatted throughout the rest of the evening, at some point my phone buzzed with an Aurora alert. I mentioned this, and peeked briefly out our window, looking north. Well, it looked a bit cloudy and I thought nothing more.
Later on, just as we were all getting ready for bed, Joe, my husband, comes back from outside after letting the dog out. He looks at me oddly and says, ‘There’s a strange red glow on the horizon.’ I look back at him, and rather quickly realise that what he in fact saw was the Northern lights.
We both rushed back out into the garden, standing atop our picnic bench as we looked up.
Above us, you could see faint lights dancing and shifting.
Now, very easily, I could had been content with this display. It was late, I was utterly knackered and in my pyjamas at this point. My bed was beckoning me with promises of sleep. But this was one of those moments where I had to run out the door, camera in hand. That was exactly what I did within about five minutes of seeing the lights dancing above our house.
My camera was already prepped, so I just threw on my walking boots and a hoodie, grabbed the keys and made a beeline for the coast.
The Northern Lights over Crooklets, 2026.
At the time, I didn’t know how long the Aurora had been going on for, and how long I had left of it. I realised that I needed to be somewhere close by, and where I could park the car quickly and get straight into taking photographs. Crooklets Beach was that perfect combination of easy access and being just a beautiful beach. I’ve photographed numerous sunsets over the years here, so was familiar enough with the layout which was also an important factor.
Upon arriving to the carpark, I was surprised to find it was quiet. A number of people walking around, photographing the sky above with their phones, but not the numbers I was expecting – which was a relief, honestly. Even better, the sky was putting on a show even more dazzling than I expected. From what I had heard from people who had seen the Northern lights, it was often quite hard to see anything with the naked eye. Well – that was not the case I found! Obviously nothing like what you see with cameras, but I could see the faint lights above me and the bright sky over the horizon with a red hue. At points, it almost looked like dawn was beginning to break.
The tricky part came next for me – actually attempting a photograph. I didn’t want to try anything flashy, so I kept it simple as I haven’t done astrophotography in a number of years. I vaguely remember being taught the settings at university – the focus being an exposure of 30 seconds. I went with this, and for someone who doesn’t dabble in any form of astrophotography, I was quite pleased! I may have to play more in this medium.
What’s the moral of this little story then? That sometimes, we can be too comfortable and opt to do the easy decision. To stay where we are, content with what we have seen, and happy to move on. This is not a bad thing – being content is a good thing too. Yet I think sometimes you got to go ‘fuck it’ and run out the door in your bright orange pyjamas to photograph the Aurora Borealis. As when will you get that opportunity again?
There’s a nugget of wisdom in that sentence somewhere, so I’ll leave it at that.
Cheers for reading x