Robert Service wrote a poem, "The Cremation Of Sam McGee," in which he described "[T]he night on the marge of Lake Lebarge when I cremated Sam McGee."

"Lake Lebarge" was poetic license in order to rhyme with "marge." The actual lake was Lake Laberge, and it was located next to the Alcan Highway in the Yukon Territory, Canada. Larry and I stopped at the campground next to the lake. It was mid-April, and we were driving from Anchorage to Haines, both places in Alaska.

We pitched our tent in the snow, unrolled our sleeping bags, and I set about making tea. Suddenly, the sky caught fire! Reds, yellows, and other colors too numerous to count raced from horizon to horizon. Then, as if a giant hand gripped a curtain on a stage and shook it, the colors waved like a flag in the breeze. All this was accompanied by crackling and sizzling sounds, like bacon frying in a pan.

We had seen the Aurora many times before, but this was the first time we actually heard them.

Then, as if someone threw a switch, the sky went dark again. The lights were done for the night. The next morning we continued into Haines and caught the ferry to Petersburg.

That was some 50 years ago, and I remember it to this day.