How to discover the wild edge of the Arctic Circle

“Now that’s what I call an entrance.” David Yau, Yellowknife’s most renowned aurora photographer, is a man who knows a thing or two about timing.

Standing ankle-deep in snow next to me, the temperature hovering around -18C, he looks upwards, beyond the silhouetted spruce at the roadside, to what is racing above our heads. He remains speechless as waves of effervescent green and soft pink shoot across the tundra, then glances at the time on his iPhone. “It’s a little late tonight,” he says, squashing his gloveless hands back into his pockets, “but it’s going to be a great show.”

The almost-clockwork presence of the aurora borealis above Yellowknife leaves the impression that the city exists in its own bubble. This former gold-mining outpost by the Great Slave Lake, on the fringes of Canada’s Arctic Circle, benefits from more than 240 viewing nights a year. That — as the tourist board sees it — gives the isolated community in the Northwest Territories the right to call itself the world’s Northern Lights capital, without even a residue of guilt. 

And who can blame them? On nights like tonight, this raw, weathered corner of Canada welcomes a stampede of first-timers, aurora obsessives, honeymooners, astronomers and photographers. The air may be heavy with expectation, but Yellowknife delivers more than just a thumb-in-the-wind impression. Later, back at The Explorer Hotel where I’m staying, there will be plenty of nodding together like a group of bobbleheads.

The lights appear every night during my February visit, but there’s always a biting cold and bone-gnawing wind. Cloud cover is a constant worry for those who run aurora tours in Scandinavia — not that you’d know it in the Northwest Territories. “Even when it’s overcast they can pop out and surprise you,” says David, “and sometimes those sightings are the most satisfying.” 

David drives us deeper into the woodland to a place where the trees thin to skeletons and the horizon widens. Yellowknife is a wild, frozen landscape in winter but an ever-increasing downtown infrastructure ensures it is fully geared up to handle the increase in aurora traffic. Lights-chasing has become big business — visitor numbers have quadrupled over the past six years — and there are vastly improved hotels, better air connections from Vancouver, Edmonton, Calgary and Ottawa, and a boom in tour companies. 

David’s Aurora Ninja was one of the first, set up 18 years ago after he arrived from Hong Kong, but life still exists on the perimeter here. From mid-November to April, when the float planes are at a standstill and houseboats are frozen solid in the lake, Yellowknife has a forgotten feel to it. Within minutes of leaving the city lights behind, you are on old logging roads, absorbed into the vast nothingness of the boreal forest. 

Setting up his tripod, David explains the basics of aurora capture, configuring his wide-angle lens with a manual focus set to infinity. To the naked eye the Northern Lights appear silver, but using a stand and a long exposure helps tease out colour in the display. Another splash of Marvel Comics green and red fills the sky, and the cold is immediately forgotten. Above, the aurora is ethereal and ephemeral, familiar and far-fetched. Exploring the subarctic tundra at night is one way to learn about the wonders of the boreal forest. Another is by strapping on snowshoes. 

On my last morning I’m up early meeting wilderness guide Rosie Strong of Strong Interpretation at a rendezvous overlooking frozen Pontoon Lake. It is a place, she tells me, where aboriginal tales and the science of the natural world shake hands.

A born storyteller, heritage interpreter and botanist, Rosie leads me through the Christmas trees and berry bushes on a hunt for stories. “The snow’s the perfect medium for telling us who lives in the forest,” she says, shuffling into a thicket of spruce. “Be quiet and try to remember whose house you are in.”

The drama of the night before dialled down, there is still plenty of life and colour amid the gleaming white snow. There are shiny birch and aspen, and once in a while birds such as grey jays and the wonderfully named yellow-bellied sapsucker chirrup from branches. There aren’t any prints of lynx, but the pay-off is tracks left by a snowshoe hare and an encounter with a husky mushing team as they break the forest silence. 

When we finally leave — for wild-caught fish and chips at Bullock’s Bistro back in Yellowknife — there’s a sense that it’s one of those moments that’ll lodge in my memory. Just like the Northern Lights, as they hang each night in the Yellowknife sky. 

Details: Yellowknife

WestJet (westjet.com) and Air Canada (aircanada.com) fly to Yellowknife from London (stopover in Calgary, Edmonton or Vancouver). Visit Spectacular Northwest Territories (spectacularnwt.com); Aurora Ninja (auroraninja.com); Strong Interpretation (experienceyellowknife.com).