Fishing

This past weekend was a whirlwind of joy and celebration. We set off from Maryland early in the morning to attend a wedding in Pennsylvania, a journey of over two hours. Afterward, we eagerly rushed to join the rest of our family back in Maryland, helping our son and daughter-in-law settle into their new home. As we gathered at a nearby mall to share dinner, I overheard one of my sons discussing a plan with his brother- a spontaneous trip to see the aurora.

You’ve probably heard the news—an extreme solar flare has allowed us to view auroras this year in locations further from the poles. 

Without a second thought, I joined in on the thrilling adventure that led my son Frank and me to embark on a two-hour drive west to an agreed-upon rendezvous overlook in West Virginia, marking my third state for the day. As we started our journey further west than the other son and his friend, we arrived 90 minutes ahead of them, adding to the anticipation of the night.

We encountered a diverse group of people at the overpass in West Virginia. The couple from Leesburg, VA, departed after an hour, wondering if the location’s cloud cover would offer the view they sought. Jeff, a transplant from Staten Island, shared his local insights and the serenity he found in this spot, where he would come nightly to watch the sunset. I couldn’t help but agree that the view was breathtaking, instilling a sense of peace and awe in all of us. 

Jeff, our local expert, took off during the intense hail storm. Part of the night’s adventure, which took place in a remote area, included driving rain, gusts of wind that shook Frank’s car, and hail. I was grateful to be in the car and have some calm company. Greg, our resident engineer, and his friend Mike, a daredevil, arrived as the storm ended.

Once Greg arrived, they surveyed our location. The engineer, always appreciating any obstacles to the goal, declared, “Those light poles make it hard to see the stars.” Before I knew it, Mike, known for his spontaneous actions, was shimmying up one of the light poles with a large shopping bag in his hand. He slung the bag over the light, shutting it off. As Mike climbed the second pole to the delight of our fellow overlook viewers, I imagined the state police pulling up and looking right at me, speaking the often repeated words of youth workers. “Where is the thinking adult?” I was practicing my innocent look and deflecting statement, “These boys are in their 30s – isn’t that adult enough to ask them what they think they’re doing?” Perhaps it is the mother’s curse always to think you are responsible for your child’s behavior. Thankfully, no police showed up, and the expedition continued. 

We’d look in the direction of the Aurora and ask what you see. Do you see it? Greg and Frank took out their phones and captured a view our naked eyes couldn’t pick up, preserving the beauty of the moment.

Chairs emerged, and we sat around and silently enjoyed the night sky view, cleared now from light pollution. I never recall seeing that many stars since my childhood summer fun of laying on my back on the trampoline watching the night sky constellations. If people are standing and looking up at the sky, others will stop by to check out what they are looking at, even at 11 pm on a Saturday. I was surprised by the number of vehicles on this small overpass pull-off. During our time, we saw an influx of vehicles coming and going. We were only solo for a brief moment of our time there. Invariably, some folks would stop and ask if you saw anything, glad to chat with a stranger over events in the night sky. 

Close to midnight, we packed up and returned a two-hour drive home to Maryland.

Reflecting on this adventure with my three male companions – I thought I had just experienced a fishing trip. Like a fishing trip, the journey, the shared experiences, and the camaraderie made it memorable, not the end result or the ‘catch.’