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We meticulously scoured the weather across the United States to see where we might have a chance of climbing and seeing the northern lights.  There was maybe sixteen hours of notice until CME impact and so we dropped all plans and settled on taking the nine hour drive up to Deer Isle Maine to climb an old friend of mine secluded far off the beaten path.  We went to bed, got the early start and made our way up to the bridge, landing at the park just after nightfall. The lights were already out, albeit faintly.  We took photos near the shore and at some point as I gazed upon the bridge and felt a small movement within me.  I knew we needed to maneuver towards the bridge to make the climb in between passing cars.  The road was dark enough for us to sprint, stop and sprint again until we reached the cables to climb.  The cables were thin and slippery under our feet, but we were transfixed, our eyes to the stars above, the moon behind and the silhouetted Osprey nest marking the pinnacle of the bridge. Cars wove their ways below us in between hushed, heavy breaths but we were ghosts now, we had become part of the night.  All of nature breathed with us, for as we reached the top, a substorm ensued and the sky broke into brilliance.  Splashes of green, purple, red and pink dashed and waved on the horizon until it was above us and then eventually all around us.  We were enveloped. Hearts full and hands freezing, our fingers fumbled over camera dials and settings, making earnest  attempts to immortalize what was ultimately ephemeral.  We shot for hours undetected, sitting in the now empty osprey nest as thoughts ceased and words fell away from our lips–the veil between the experience and experiencer was rent in two.  “The Portal” Deer Isle bridge, October 2024