January 28, 2020, 11:26 p.m. — Jökulsárlón, South Coast, Iceland
Things remained as they were for a while. Taking advantage of the lull, I walked about fifty meters off from the rest of the group for a quiet moment, and as I gazed off the east, Thor hit the light switch. It wasn’t a fade up. It was snap and full-on. I was transfixed by the slow weaving of the sheets of light. Riveted. Mesmerized. Motionless.
Shaking myself out of my reverie, I went galumphing back to my camera as fast as the crampons on my feet would allow. Regaining my breath and composure, I recomposed my frame, dialed the ISO sensitivity down to 1250, clicked, and waited out the ten-second exposure, which took forever.
The first shot was a perfectly exposed glob of green blob blur. I’d been leaning on my tripod — obviously not having fully regained my composure — and it slipped. This is the second shot.
As a side note, here is an example of Mother Nature doing things her own way: In most dramatic productions, the curtain rises at the start of the show; with the Aurora Borealis, the curtain falls.
(Nikon D850, Tamron SP 15–30mm f/2.8 Di VC USD. f/2.8, 10 sec, ISO 1250. RAW processing in DxO PhotoLab 3.1; Editing in Adobe Photoshop.)