This last year has been a humdinger for seeing the Aurora Borealis, with two stunning displays here in mid-Wales on May 10th (see this post) and October 10th. But on September 12th, which happened to be my birthday, I was just about enter a restaurant in Tywyn for my birthday meal when an aurora red alert arrived on my phone. Eek…..what a dilemma!
I decided to go ahead with the meal and not let Jane (my partner) down. An hour and a half later, the meal over, we headed down to the mouth of the Afon Dysynni , a couple of miles away, where we planned to spend the night in the camper. It is here that the railway line and coastal footpath cross the river just before it reaches the sea. At high tide the river water backs up into a lagoon known as Broadwater; and as it happened there was no wind, the water was still and the sky was clear. Would there still be any sign of the aurora?
I could immediately see that the northern sky looked “unusual”, so I set up the camera on a tripod, and began taking a series of images. I wouldn’t say I’d perfected my technique by any means but I had learned from some mistakes I have previously made with long exposures. Despite it being pitch black I could see that the silhouettes of the bridges set against the night sky would make an excellent composition. It wasn’t until I examined the files on my PC that I could see what the sensor had recorded and after some judicious processing came up with an image I’m really pleased with.
To the naked eye very little could be seen but if only our (my?) vision was more sensitive to low light levels it would have looked something like this. Even the version you can see above is drab in comparison to the sparkling processed original viewed on my monitor. I could write a book – well maybe an essay – on aurora photography and what it tells us about our own vision, but that will have to wait until another day.
On a lighter note, I usually make marmalade in the run-up to Christmas and give a few jars away as presents. This morning I left a jar by the recycling bags for the bin-men to collect. I heard the lorry drawing away so rushed outside to see if they had taken it. It was still there. I ran after them and held the jar up. “Ow, thees ees resoyclin, we down’t tek glass” he said in his brummie accent. I handed the jar over and wished him a happy Christmas.
So thanks for continuing to read my ramblings and with best wishes, seasons greetings and a virtual jar of marmalade to you all.
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