Ah, Alaska. We meet again. This time, it’s not just for the majestic landscapes or to devour copious amounts of Moose’s Tooth pizza (although, let’s be honest, that’s still a mandatory pit stop). No, this trip was something special. The third time in the Land of the Midnight Sun and, folks, I had a mission: to hunt down those elusive northern lights. This wasn’t going to be a solo trek either—I roped in my uncle Juan, who’s equally as adventurous and, for some reason, always trusts my questionable ideas.

Anchorage to Fairbanks: A Scenic Prelude to Frostbite

Like my previous Alaskan adventures, we kicked things off in Anchorage. After fueling up with the best pizza in the state, we called it a night to rest up for the journey ahead. Our destination? Fairbanks. But first, a detour to Denali National Park—where the roads had just enough snow to remind us we weren’t in Miami anymore.

Driving through Denali in the winter feels like you’ve wandered into a Bob Ross painting. Happy little trees everywhere, except instead of painting, you’re taking photos while desperately hoping your car doesn’t slip off the road. We drove as far as the snow gods allowed—spoiler: it wasn’t far—but the photos? Oh, they were majestic. Think epic mountains and frozen tundra, all while you’re swaddled in so many layers you feel like a walking burrito.

Destination: Fairbanks and Beyond

Once we hit Fairbanks, I couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of déjà vu. Why? Because I’d been here before, chasing the same dream—those beautiful northern lights. Last time, I met this local named Jack. You know the type: grizzled Alaskan man who looks like he’s survived at least 12 bear encounters. Jack gave me the insider’s tip: “Come back in late March or early April,” he said, “That’s when the aurora borealis really puts on a show.”

So, naturally, I came back. But this time, I brought Uncle Juan along for the ride. Our itinerary? Fairbanks to the Arctic Circle and then a cozy (isolated) stay in Wiseman, population 12. I checked. Maybe 13 now if a wandering wolf or caribou decided to join.

Coldfoot: Where We Froze and Found Heaven in the Sky

Remember Jack’s advice about late March? Well, the man didn’t lie. We lodged in Coldfoot, which, by the way, should really rename itself to “Coldfreeze-your-butt-off-foot.” The weather hit an unimaginable negative 35°F, completely disregarding the concept of ‘wind chill.’ I’m from Miami, where anything below 70°F is considered sweater weather. I wasn’t built for this.

For three nights, we endured what I can only describe as “blissful torture.” But, oh, the reward. Each night, the sky would erupt into a kaleidoscope of colors. The aurora borealis was dancing above us, a symphony of green, blue, purple, and even the rare splash of red. If you haven’t seen the northern lights, imagine God himself spilling paint across the heavens in the most dramatic, slow-motion way possible.

This was my first real aurora experience, and I have to say—it was worth the frostbite. Uncle Juan, who had been chasing this for years, was over the moon (or maybe just frozen stiff and unable to express it). Either way, he was ecstatic. And I had Jack, my northern lights whisperer, to thank for that well-timed tip.

The Great Alaskan Freeze-Out

As magical as the sky was, the weather? Well, let’s just say it didn’t care about our dreams. It felt like Mother Nature was testing us: “You want pretty lights? You’ll have to freeze for it!” There’s something humbling about layering every piece of clothing you own, feeling like an overstuffed marshmallow, and still having icicles form on your eyelashes and beard. But we survived. And we lived to tell the tale of -35°F, not even mentioning the wind chill.

Back to Reality

After three unforgettable nights in Coldfoot and Wiseman, where we reveled in the mesmerizing dance of the northern lights, it was time to head back. We took a scenic flight from Coldfoot to Fairbanks, soaring over the breathtaking frozen mountain range. The view from above was incredible, with snow-capped peaks stretching endlessly beneath us—a stunning farewell to our Arctic adventure before returning to civilization.

When it was all over, we defrosted, packed up, and headed back home—where the only thing cold is the A/C set to 68°F. Uncle Juan thanked me for dragging him into this subzero adventure, and I thanked Jack, my insider, for making sure we timed it just right. Sure, it was torment at times, but seeing the northern lights? That was pure magic.

Would I do it again? Absolutely. But next time, I’m bringing an electric blanket and a heated suit. Maybe two.