I’ve been a bit out of touch, but that’s pretty much the point of a ski trip.

I’m traveling through the Salt Lake City ski area, including the resorts in Park City, Cottonwood Canyon, and Ogden, and thus far it’s been go go go. I’m doing a story for the Daily Journal in Chicago on Park City, as well as another on some of the more extreme/advanced adventures of the area for Travel and Escape.

And I’ve done much more than ski. I’ve reached speeds of 80mph and experienced about 5 Gs of force on a bobsled at Olympic Park, ate fire-melted cheese on a plate, and skied six resorts in one day without setting foot in a vehicle. The latter was possible thanks to the Interconnect Tour offered to visitors by Ski Utah, and I’ll give you the full scoop on that next week.

One more resort to go tomorrow – Solitude in Big Cottonwood Canyon. Here are a few photos of the trip thus far, more to come soon. All photos by Wake and Wander.

Our entrance to the backcountry from Park City Mountain Resort on the Interconnect Tour.

So, confession: The photo I posted on Facebook was not from my trip to Sweden (I know, I’m sneaky). Truth is, the classic photos you see of the Northern Lights aren’t captured easily, and I didn’t get a photo of what I saw in Sweden 200 kilometers north of the Arctic Circle. I won’t say I didn’t try, but I didn’t try very hard. There’s a tendency for when you see something amazing to reach for the camera. That was my first reaction when I walked out of the ice hotel and saw a greenish cloud dancing across the sky, folding and unfolding and coming and going with much fluidity.

I took the camera from my pocket and snapped a photo, checking the viewfinder and seeing that it wasn’t anywhere close to a representation of what I was witnessing. I stuffed the camera back into my jacket – it wasn’t worth fooling around with. This moment was too good to allow myself to become distracted by the 21^st century instinct to record each moment artificially.

I would recommend anyone who is seeking to see the Northern Lights to get as far into the country as possible. I was at the ice hotel without a car, and while it was hardly a city and we were very much in the wilderness, the lights of the property did affect my viewing experience. I walked out behind the hotel and out onto the frozen river (which was about the best I could do) and laid down in the snow, piling up the snow to angle my upper body and rest the back of my head.

I saw columns of light forming and rising, extending. They would remain that way for a few seconds or a few minutes – it was all random, each acting in its own way. The “clouds” of light would wave in, spread out, dissolve, flutter, sparkle. Green, red. The colors were muted – not as vivid as you see in famous photos – but definitely there, and definitely alive.

But what the hell are they?

The lights are caused by the collision of electrically charged solar particles and atoms from our atmosphere. The energy from the collisions are released as light, and the reason it happens around the poles is because it’s where the earth’s magnetic field is the strongest. The best time to see them is during the winter due to the earth’s position in relation to the sun. And by the way, it’s not just the north pole that puts on a show – there are Southern Lights, too.

As with most things in our lives, the fact that they aren’t guaranteed makes them all that much more special. I saw them that first night, but they didn’t come around the second. And here I am now, with no physical proof of ever having seen or even pursued them. That’s tough as a travel writer, but as a person, I’m just fine with it – I’m able to let go of the idea of having to capture everything, to have secondary proof of all my experiences.

When my eyes are closed, I remember them very clearly.