We’re going on an aurora hunt
There was a quick huddle near a window, then somebody starting running down the aisle of the plane. Running in a plane is unusual, but this isn’t a normal flight. We’re on an aurora hunt south of New Zealand, and an eager photographer is reporting his findings to the cockpit. Our hunt for the Southern Lights just got its first big clue.
We’re onboard an Air New Zealand 787, chartered by tour specialists Viva Expeditions.
The travel agency was hit hard by Covid-19, so it decided to give Kiwis a long-haul experience without leaving the country by starting aurora passenger flights.
I was lucky enough to be on Viva’s first mission, and I’m going to take you behind the scenes of our extraordinary 10 hours in the air, which started at Christchurch’s International Antarctic Centre with a pre-flight briefing.
Dr Ian Griffin is pacing in front of a big projector. By day, he is Director of the Otago Museum; by night, he dons a metaphorical green cape and becomes one of New Zealand’s pre-eminent aurora hunters. It’s his eighth flight heading towards Antarctica to see the green glow, and you can tell he can’t wait.
An aurora, in simple terms, is produced when atoms in the Earth’s atmosphere get excited by the solar winds. When they get ‘‘excited’’ they give off green, and even red and purple colours. I’m surprised Griffin’s skin isn’t glowing green because every atom in his body is excited.
‘‘Most of my aurora hunts are limited to driving four-wheel-drive vehicles around remote parts of Otago. Tonight, we have at our disposal a Boeing 787 Dreamliner.’’
But that’s not all. Like everything on tonight’s flight, we’re taking it to the next level, Griffin says.
‘‘On the last flight out of Christchurch on a Dreamliner, we noticed there are incredibly bright LED lights on the outside of the aircraft. They’re going to be turned off tonight. It’s something called stealth mode. And we’ve got special dispensation to do it. It’s perfectly safe, it’s gone up through the authorities.’’
Most Kiwis who want to see an aurora, head to places such as Iceland or Norway.
The problem with ground-based viewing is weather. If it’s cloudy, you won’t see it. We won’t have that problem. Tonight, we’re flying at 41,000 feet (12,500 metres), well above those pesky clouds.
Griffin shows us the intended flight path on his projector, which is a triangle headed to the outer fringes of Antarctica. However, the aurora will only be in a particular patch. The more excited it gets, the further north it shows. So, the plan will change.
A few hours later, as we board the aircraft, the first sign we’re on a pretty special flight is that
Just before our in-flight entertainment was switched off, we captured where the plane was. several windows are taped up, with just a little hole for a camera in the middle. These will be used by the flight’s official photographers to ensure their pictures don’t have any reflection on them. These photographers have an essential job: they are our eyes.
Expensive cameras will pick up the aurora much faster than our eyes, so photographers will start looking for faint bits of green to help direct the pilots. It feels like we’re on a safari but, instead of animals, we’re looking for one of mother nature’s greatest phenomenons.
The food rolls out quickly. The latest forecast, shows that southern light activity is likely to be high, meaning we could start seeing it an hour into the flight. We can’t turn off the cabin lights until everyone has eaten, so we all excitedly eat our first proper airline meal since Covid-19 hit.
As our meals are being cleared, a group of photographers and astronomers gather around one of the blacked-out windows, peering at the camera screen. One of the team runs forward to the front of the cabin. Excited chatter shoots through the aircraft: our hunt has its first clue.
A few minutes later, the captain comes over the intercom. Typically, he tells you about the weather below. Today, he’s giving an update on what’s above.
‘‘Good evening, folks, from the flight deck, I’m sure as you’re well aware there’s lots of activity starting to be sighted out both sides of the aircraft. It’s approximately 20 minutes until we’re inside our operating area. That means we’ll be able to track across the sky wherever we want with our clearance from air traffic control.’’
Twenty minutes later, the cabin lights are switched off. Even the green glow of the toilet sign is covered. The darker it is, the more we’ll see.
About the same time, the external lights of the aircraft stop flashing. Our 200,000-kilogram sleek aurora hunter, and its 251 excited passengers, are ready for the show.
An hour later, the aircraft is surrounded by a silent ballet of white and green swirls. I have seen the Northern Lights from the ground but, from up here, this southern version is like another world. It feels like I’m in a Jetsons cartoon and we’ve just arrived on a remote planet with an unusual swirling atmosphere.
As we get further into the brightest part of the aurora, it starts to visibly dance and twist like a giant tornado.
I can see specks of green, but mainly big white glows. My camera, which is much more sensitive to the colours, picks up bright green, purples and pinks.
This is the hardest part about selling the flight: managing expectations. You won’t see what the photos show with the naked eye; most people see white, with faint bits of green.
Younger eyes, Griffin tells us, can see more colour.
Most people are in ‘‘swap seats’’, meaning we get 40 minutes to enjoy the show and take photos before swapping into the middle aisle. Our time without a window is spent talking to our neighbours in complete darkness. The in-flight entertainment is off too, but none of us care. We’re all here to see the blockbuster outside. After 40 more minutes, we swap back. It is the most beautiful musical chairs on Earth.
As the pilots hone in on the brightest part of the aurora, the swirls get more active. It’s getting so strong, even cellphones are capturing the green colours.
Helpfully, a crew of onboard photographers constantly roam around to offer advice to passengers on how to improve their photos.
Six hours after first seeing the aurora, with my camera still glued to the window, the cabin lights flick on, just after 3am. It’s breakfast time, a chirpy crew member says.
We land back at Christchurch’s domestic terminal two hours later. I catch up with our four ecstatic pilots, who are happy to help with so many bucket lists, including their own.
First officer Al Hanley tells me, ‘‘It’s great to offer something different for passengers, as you can imagine with the Covid environment, it’s pretty amazing to be able to fly 10 hours and not [then] have to sit in 14 days of quarantine.’’
Interest in the flights has been significant, with more than 1000 on a waiting list for expeditions. If you’re interested in joining them, get in quick because it appears a lot of Kiwis are green with envy.
The writer’s trip was supported by Viva Expeditions and Air New Zealand.