We’re Not in Marblehead Anymore
"It's starting!" the man across the lawn shouted, pointing to the patch of dark blue sky between the trees. A few people had begun to assemble along the rocky barrier along Lake Erie, craning their necks and holding their smartphones aloft like phosphorescent divining rods.
The pillars of magenta and emerald begin to paint the night sky at Marblehead Lighthouse State Park, Marblehead, Ohio, on October 10-11, 2024.
"That's just the ambient light from across the bay on the horizon," I replied as I leveled my my tripod. I had chosen to set up camera No. 1 on the southern end of the lawn, facing the lighthouse and the light keeper’s residence (now a museum).
"No, there's a green shimmer near the lighthouse. Use your camera!" insisted the man. I looked up, seeing only the twinkle of a few faint stars. It was 8:30 p.m., mere minutes after the end of Astronomical Twilight. It would take another half an hour before the arrival of true night.
Once, twice I leaned in towards the viewfinder, my pupil straining to take in the subtle diminutions of light. The pulse of the lighthouse beacon hadn’t started yet.
Could it...is it…? A slash of emerald, a twitch of magenta? Are the rods and cones playing tricks with me?
This was my third trip to Marblehead Lighthouse in the space of six weeks, with the two previous attempts mild disappointments in my pursuit of the elusive Aurora. I had missed the major G-5 storm back in May, so thoroughly exhausted from that week’s events (college meetings and graduation) that I had ignored every push notification from the Aurora Pro App and gone to bed early only to seethe with envy the next morning as everyone from Moosejaw to Mexico City reveled in the supercharged show of spectral delights.
Two previous trips to Marblehead left me slightly disappointed, but not empty-handed.
The young man to my left, hunched over his rig and silent up to this point, suddenly stammered in disbelief: “Yes…yes I see something!” “I do too!” chimed another.
Now we were all a buzz, a colony of glowing bees streaking about the base of the lighthouse.
“Wow! Look at that!”
“Look overhead!”
“This is the greatest night of my life!”
“It doesn’t seem real!”
No, it doesn’t.
We didn’t dare peek behind the shimmering curtains of crimson, emerald and gold for fear we would break the enchantment.
For the next ten hours Oz descended on Marblehead.
Time Lapse from Camera No. 1
Time Lapse from Camera No. 2
