One of my goals since arriving here has been to see the Northern Lights (aka on Orkney as ‘The Merry Dancers’). I’ve seen them twice before: once from a train in central Saskatchewan, and once I dragged my poor Mum out in the car at nine at night to see if we could see them from the Forks of the Credit (we did, but they were just a few faint flickers and Norma was very confused as to why we were just sitting in a car in the middle of nowhere in the dark).
I arrived in Orkney just a year ago, the start of the best times to see the Northern Lights in the north of Scotland. But I was way too nervous to drive at night (I still think with horror about those treks to and from my uncle’s in Carluke in the pitch dark, racing to get to the ferry, but terrified of exceeding 50 mph, a trail of frustrated truckers, commuters, and school bus drivers dawdling along behind me), so never ventured out in the car after 4pm if I didn’t absolutely have to.
I am more confident now (note the qualifier: I am not ‘confident’, just ‘more confident’ than a year ago) and recently I’ve seen some photos on the Orkney FB pages of sightings of the lights, which are magnificent. There are even closed FB groups dedicated to ‘those of us that understand aurora hunting’. Okaaaay. It seems the desired conditions are: a clear night and a Kp-index of 4 or higher, although this far north, a Kp of 2 is often enough. Last evening was clear(ish) and the Kp-index was 3.
So we headed out. I drove to one of the recommended sites in Orkney (really anywhere away from the lights of Kirkwall and facing north is good) – Inganess Beach. It’s a single track road, past three farms and one stunning, massive, modern mansion. As we crept down the lane I saw two men out walking their dogs, and a couple of cars way off in the distance near the airport. I also saw a fair number of rocks that I initially identified as animals crouching in the shadows (no country girl, I). I pulled into the tiny carpark at the end of the dead-end lane, backing in so we were facing the beach, and turned off the engine.
And we sat. I had brought a podcast to listen to, but other than the sound of Richard Ayoade discussing his favourite meal, the evening was so quiet. It was quite dark: I could see the water shimmering, a few clouds rolling in obscuring the stars, and the silhouette of the wreck of the warship directly in front of us. I stared at the sky, and the dog stared at me. After 13 minutes of sitting in a darkened car, amongst sand dunes and sea grass, looking out at nothing, I thought, “What on earth are you doing? A single woman, sitting alone in a car at night at the end of a dead-end country lane? Have you not seen Shetland? or Vera? or Line of Duty? or Scream? Go home.” So I did.
There will be other evenings, the sun will set earlier in the day, I will monitor the FB pages and the Kp-index, and I will try again. But I’m beginning to suspect the Merry Dancers won’t be dancing for me on Orkney.