One of the Best Ways to Experience the Northern Lights Is With an Astronomer at Sea — Here’s What It’s Like

It’s ironic to feel grounded while staring at the cosmos from a ship deck in Arctic waters, but that’s the peculiar magic of chasing the Northern Lights aboard Hurtigruten’s MS Midnatsol. Tom Kerss, the cruise line’s Chief Aurora Chaser, has a way of making deep space feel surprisingly accessible. Between discussions of Jovian auroras caused by volcanoes on one of Jupiter’s moons, Kerss drops quippy one-liners: “Some of you will have a great day because you get to hear me.”

Standing on the observation deck in 15-degree temperatures, where the ship’s movement makes tripod photography a challenge and winter clouds frequently obscure the view, I quickly learned that aurora hunting requires equal parts science, patience, and humor. Kerss’s expertise — honed at London’s Royal Observatory Greenwich and detailed in his numerous books — transformed what could be simple celestial sightseeing into a deeper understanding of our place in the universe. That’s assuming, of course, the temperamental Arctic weather cooperates.

Arctic Norway in winter demands flexibility. Though we’re joining just a few days of Hurtigruten’s longer northbound route, high winds close roads from Honingsvåg to the North Cape and churn up 15-foot waves that challenge even seasoned sailors’ sleep. But the Midnatsol, which joined Hurtigruten’s fleet from sibling company HX, provides plenty of diversions between Northern Lights viewings.

From my Expedition Suite, floor-to-ceiling windows frame the coastal panorama. The room features heated bathroom floors and thoughtful Nordic design touches that make the space feel both efficient and welcoming — a far cry from the tundra on the other side of the glass.

The ship’s “Norway’s Coastal Kitchen” program sources 80 percent of its food and 60 percent of its drinks locally — including what may be the world’s most intriguing sparkling wine. To celebrate its 130th anniversary, Hurtigruten submerged 1,700 bottles of Rathfinny Wine Estate’s Classic Cuvée in a Norwegian fjord, creating the world’s first sea-aged sparkling wine. The experiment proved so successful that thousands more bottles now rest in an undisclosed location beneath the waves.

The culinary program extends beyond wine to include award-winning Norwegian ingredients: reindeer filet served alongside local root vegetables, duck breast with lingonberries, and Gangstad Gårdsysteri’s Nidelven Blå — crowned the world’s best cheese at the World Cheese Awards.

Between ports, Kerss’s astronomy sessions in the main theater draw crowds eager to understand the science behind the spectacle we’re chasing. For example, he downloads data and uses Python code to construct high-resolution images of Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons, connecting our earthbound journey to the greater cosmos. The presentations feel less like lectures and more like conversations with a particularly knowledgeable friend who happens to know an awful lot about space.

Near the Russian border in Kirkenes, where the Midnatsol pulls into port on a gunmetal morning, the intertwining of nature and culture becomes clear, despite the sun offering little more than a soft glow above the hills. Our guide pilots a snowmobile across a frozen fjord to harvest king crabs — a species introduced by Soviet scientists in the 1960s that has since migrated west, transforming from a Cold War food security experiment into one of Norway’s most lucrative catches. These days, the crabs fetch 500-600 NOK per kilo, though strict quotas manage their invasive spread.

The morning continues with a visit to a traditional Sami lavvu, what Americans call a tipi, where we feed reindeer — animals that, by law, only Indigenous Sami can own in Norway. Our host shares a joik, a traditional song about his family, and the haunting vocals fill the fire-warmed tent as snow falls outside.

Later, at the Snow Hotel‘s restaurant, we feast on the morning’s catch: massive crab legs served with bread, butter, and mayonnaise — proof that some ingredients require little embellishment. The whole experience feels less like standard cruise ship tourism and more like a genuine glimpse into life above the Arctic Circle.

On our last night at sea, the clouds finally break. The constant motion of the ship, combined with Arctic winds and slick decks, makes DSLR photography nearly impossible without a tripod, which I’ve foregone to travel carry-on only. For serious photographers, Kerss recommends shooting in manual mode with ISO 800-1600, choosing “Daylight” white balance, and using the widest possible aperture.

But on a moving ship in Arctic waters, even perfect settings can’t guarantee the shot. A tip for aurora-chasing, phone photographers: pack hand warmers and use a pop socket. The combination allows for quick-trigger photography without constantly removing gloves in subzero temperatures and helps negate the danger of an iPhone being found at the bottom of the sea, centuries from now. 

While those living for the photo alone might prefer land-based viewing, there’s something fitting about witnessing the Northern Lights from the rolling deck of a ship, where the line between sea and sky blurs in the frozen night. Kerss joins us on deck, offering technical advice between musings about space and time. Watching him work with eager photographers and astronomy enthusiasts, it’s clear he’s found his ideal perch, somewhere between the stars and the sea, making the infinite feel surprisingly within reach.