In the middle of the , a pair of hikers in the mountains above Zermatt, Switzerland, discovered the body of a climber who had disappeared decades before. The human remains had been entombed in ice just a short distance from an international ski resort, and near the route up the famed Matterhorn. The discovery occurred on July 12.

Local authorities have released few details about the climber beyond the basic timeline of his disappearance. “In September 1986, a German climber, who was 38 at the time, had been reported missing after not returning from a hike,” the local police department . His remains were identified using DNA tests at a local hospital, the release said, but authorities have not released the climber’s identity.

Police also released a photo showing a pair of crampons, a single black leather boot, a gray piece of fabric, and a length of rope resting on ice.

How the climber lost his life is still unclear. The mountains surrounding Zermatt are popular and infamously deadly, and several hundred people have died while attempting the Matterhorn. In 2018 alone, on the mountain.

The location of the body gives few clues about his cause of death. He was found along the Theodul Glacier, rather than at the base of a notorious Matterhorn route. The upper portion of the glacier is more than 12,000 feet above sea level, and it sits adjacent to Zermatt Ski Resort—parts are served by multiple chairlifts. In the summer, the glacier is popular with hikers, who regularly traverse it in short-sleeve shirts. In 1965, on a bicycle. A gondola line, constructed in the 1970s, provides a panoramic view of the ice flow on its way to a luxury viewing lodge, complete with a restaurant and a theater.

Despite its proximity to buildings and chairlifts, the area presents dangers for outdoor recreation users—storms often descend on the area and trap hikers on the snow.

“It doesn’t matter really how tame the glacier is,” says Dave Miller, owner of guiding company Alpine International Guides. “You get caught in one of those alpine storms, and even if you’re close to the ski resort, that can do you in right there. You can literally be a half mile from the ski resort and not be able to find it.”

The location where the climber was discovered isn’t necessarily where he disappeared. Glaciers slowly flow downhill, and can carry bodies miles from their original locations. And as climate change melts the ice, that flow accelerates.

In recent years, the retreating glaciers across the Alps have revealed ancient relics, archaeological discoveries, and yes, human remains. In 2017, a French climber found three bodies on the Italian side of Mont Blanc—authorities believe the three had died two decades earlier. That year a ski resort worker in Zermatt found the bodies of a couple who disappeared in 1942 while herding cattle in their mountain pasture.

Last summer, multiple hikers in Switzerland made similarly gruesome discoveries. In July, hikers found a mummified body clad in ; in August, a French climber found in the retreating Chessjen Glacier in Valais, Switzerland. Then, on August 4, debris from a plane crash on the Aletsch Glacier in Switzerland’s Bermese Alps. The plane, a Piper Cherokee, had crashed on June 30, 1968.

The Theodul Glacier has also from bygone eras. In 1985, archaeologists found coins, a dagger, and remains of a human thigh bone amid the retreating ice. Subsequent digs in the area unearthed the body of a merchant who had perished during a crossing in the 1600s, wearing a thin pair of leather shoes.

The melting glaciers around Zermatt are bound to reveal more finds like this. According to the news site Swissinfo.ch, in the mountains of Valais Canton, where Zermatt sits.

That a body could be found so close to an international ski resort illustrates how dramatically the Alps are changing due to climate change. More than a quarter of Theodul Glacier has melted over the last 50 years. That melt has been dramatic enough to between Italy and Switzerland—Theodul Glacier sits on a ridge between the two countries, and its retreat has slowly pushed an Italian alpine refuge onto Swiss territory.

This past winter dealt an especially bad blow to the Alps’ glaciers: temperatures in Switzerland rose above , and of the country’s glacier mass disappeared in 2022. More areas that were once covered in ice are now exposed—and items that were stuck in the glacier are also thawing out. So common are these discoveries that the Valais Canton produced a smartphone app, called Icewatcher, which allows hikers to photograph tools, wood, or even human remains that they find on the edge of the ice, and alert the local archaeological department.

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Expecting yet another sea of dark skies, I unzipped my tent door—but this time, the scene looked different. My heart rate quickened. Wait, is that a green glow?

It was May 2021. My husband, Frank, and I were camped on the north shore of Isle Royale National Park, in the middle of Lake Superior. We’d taken a hellacious four-hour detour from our intended route up and over the rock-strewn island’s spine to get here. It was a gamble. Catching the northern lights in the lower 48 states is tricky: it requires near-perfect conditions, an unobstructed view to the north, minimal clouds, and an active aurora.

An avid northern-lights chaser—I have now hunted them (sometimes successfully, sometimes not) in Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and the Arctic Circle—I had already been nerding out on solar activity for three years when we visited Isle Royale. Yet with no cell service to monitor my northern-lights apps, I didn’t know whether we might get skunked … or see something.

I knew it was possible: I’d witnessed the lights on a road trip in the Upper Peninsula the previous summer, but the bright-green swirls had been largely obscured by cloud patches. That night on the remote Isle Royale, I crossed my fingers and waited.

The northern lights, predominantly associated with the northern latitudes, are beams of green, violet, and even red lights caused when charged particles from the sun interact with our atmosphere. Few night sights thrill national-park travelers like spotting the aurora borealis; scroll the hundreds of comments on the Park Service’s latest from Denali for proof.

But you don’t have to catch a flight to Iceland or Greenland, or brave the winter cold in Alaska, to experience that bright-green glow. You can see it in the national parks of the contiguous U.S. as well.

Better yet, your chances of seeing the lights are increasing. The sun travels through 11-year cycles of activity. During the stretch known as solar minimum, which last hit in late 2019, northern-lights activity wanes.ĚýRight now we’re marching toward what is known as solar maximum in , with every year improving as we move into peak aurora activity.

To spot auroras, you’ll need luck, an understanding of the phenomenon, and some planning legwork. That includes finding an aurora-hunting spot with minimal obstructions to the northern horizon (where those green ribbons dance); a strong geomagnetic storm—the stronger the storm (measured via the Kp index of Kp 0 to Kp 9), the likelier the auroras; and clear skies or minimal clouds.

The lights you’ll witness in the lower 48 may look a bit more muted than those in Iceland because you’re viewing them from farther away—that’s why they often appear closer to the horizon. But down in the U.S. northern-border states, there is a perk: You can hunt auroras in every season, as, unlike Alaska, this stretch of the U.S. experiences nighttime darkness all year. And the quest is getting easier and easier thanks to the powerful new solar cycle.

We’re already enjoying a boom—as evidenced by 2022’s news report upon news report (upon news report) of lower-48 shows to watch for, the giddy dialogue in the increasingly popular , and my own increasing views.

Take that night on Isle Royale. After waking up every half hour to check the skies from my tent, I finally saw the lime hue—and scrambled from my sleeping bag, parked myself on a lakeside boulder, stabilized my camera, and watched the lights dance for three hours amid a symphony of loon howls. I caught those lights once more from Saint Ignace on our drive home from the Isle Royale ferry—and then more than half a dozen times on a three-week trip through Iceland and Greenland this past fall.

Ready to play those increasing aurora odds? Here are seven of the best national parks in which to chase the northern lights, including tips on when, where, and how to see them.

1.Ěý  Acadia National Park, Maine

´ˇł¦˛ą»ĺľ±˛ąâ€™s craggy shores and spruce-forested trails feel otherworldly under a green glow. This far-flung getaway offers the perfect aurora recipe: dark skies, open horizons, and a northern locale that often sees auroras between Kp 4 or Kp 5. Even without the lights, deliver pristine Milky Way and constellation viewing.

You have a few options here. The southern end of provides a clear, largely unobstructed view to the north; when winter conditions are right, daytime visitors can even ice skate or ice fish here. From spring through fall, drive up , the island’s tallest peak, for vistas that on clear days stretch as far as Mount Katahdin. This bird’s-eye view is ideal for spotting the lights, but note: are required. Booking a hotel with unobstructed north-facing views makes aurora hunting a breeze. Try waterfront digs like or in Bar Harbor.

2.Ěý  Glacier National Park, Montana

When northern lights are forecast, aurora hunters flock to Glacier National Park. This northern-border state boasts some of the region’s darkest skies, due in large part to a cross-border dark-sky partnership between Glacier and Canada’s Waterton Lakes National Park, which have collaborated to minimize light pollution and protect their shared dark skies. Now, the parks make up the International first transboundary dark-sky park. This means Glacier’s north horizon has little, if any, light pollution. You will need a minimum of a Kp 4 to see the lights here.

Let’s heed some advice from the Montana landscape photographer Christina Adele. After a particularly vibrant northern-lights show this fall, she took to to share her two favorite scouting spots: the North Fork in the park’s northwest end and Lake McDonald, the park’s largest lake. For the latter, the and , both located on the southern end of Lake McDonald, are two great options for aurora-hunting overnights.

3.Ěý  Voyageurs National Park, Minnesota

Northern Minnesota’s Voyageurs National Park has all the makings of an ideal scoping site: dark skies, by the International Dark Sky Association (IDA) in 2020; clear horizons, with four large lakes and 26 smaller lakes; and one of the farthest-north locales in the lower 48. Even better, local experts you can see auroras here up to 200 times per year; they’re often visible with a Kp 4 or higher.

The park is also part of a movement to elevate Indigenous astronomy, including the local Ojibwe star knowledge, via resource sharing and in-person experiences. Read the Ojibwe artist and astronomy expert Carl Gawboy’s book Talking Sky before your trip, and see chapter nine on auroras to understand how Indigenous communities have long interpreted those eye-popping lights.

The Rainy Lake Visitor Center, Ash River Visitor Center, Voyageurs Forest Overlook Parking Lot, and Woodenfrog Beach for viewing. You can also book a stay at the aptly named, on the southern shore of the park’s Lake Kabetogama, which has cabins and lofts available year-round.

4.Ěý  Theodore Roosevelt National Park, North Dakota

Lakes aren’t the only option for horizon views. The vast, open prairies across Theodore Roosevelt National Park are perfect for lower-48 aurora hunters. So, too, is the park’s northern-border geography. A Kp 5 here is ideal, but if you’re here during a Kp 4 storm, it’s worth heading out.

Theodore Roosevelt park is open 24 hours a day; virtually any stop-off with open views to the north horizon is fair game. The NPS recommends, with panoramas of the park’s unearthly badlands, to admire the skies. The hill-perched hotel is an optimal northern-lights-hunting basecamp. It provides quick park access and elevated vistas, including a deck with views to the north.

5.Ěý  Isle Royale National Park, Michigan

After that dazzling show in May 2021, Isle Royale remains my favorite national park for aurora hunting. Its far-flung locale in Lake Superior promises inky skies, but does make access tricky. This island park is only reachable by boat or seaplane from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula or northern Minnesota; the park’s limited-run season is April through October. As for solar storm intensity, a Kp 4 is ideal.

Given Isle Royale’s dense forests and high center ridge, the north Lake Superior shore is the best spot for wide, open views north. If you’re arriving through the, try Lane Cove campground, where I caught the display. Starting at the island’s? Head to, another north-shore overnight site on the waterfront.

6.Ěý  North Cascades National Park, Washington

Given the towering mountains and thick forests, northern Washington’s North Cascades National Park is a tricky spot for aurora hunting, but low light pollution and a position on the northern border make sightings possible. When the Kp is high—think Kp 5 or up—and the clouds clear, you’re in for quite a Cascade mountain treat.

The off North Cascades Highway, open 24 hours, is a proven spot for northern-lights views. Access to the viewpoint closes in the winter, according to the, but , just west of Ross Lake Overlook, is another strong option, and remains open year-round.

7.Ěý  Denali National Park, Alaska

Unlike the contiguous U.S. parks, Denali National Park experiences light displays during even small solar storms of Kp 1, Kp 2, or Kp 3, but there is one big limitation: darkness, or the lack of it. You won’t see northern lights here from late spring through August because of the midnight sun (when the light continues well past typical sundown time). That leaves—fall, winter, and early spring—for aurora hunting. While you can see auroras in all Alaska national parks, we chose Denali for this list because it’s the most reachable in winter, particularly for independent travelers.

You can enjoy a quintessentially Alaskan northern-lights-hunting trip on an overnight dog-sledding tour with. The Alaska-based team has access to several huts throughout the park. That means dog-sledding by day and backcountry-lights chasing by night. Alternatively, join a with a local guide in the Denali area. The park is open 24 hours, so you can try aurora hunting on your own—but the dramatic weather, with temperatures down to -40 F, and the park’s minimal winter resources and accessibility require serious preparation. Stop by the at mile 1.4 on the park road to speak with a ranger if you have any questions while planning.

Note to readers: the Denali Park Road is closed for repairs after milepost 43 (the halfway mark); construction is anticipated to last until 2024, according to the . During warm-weather seasons, this closure restricts access to the park’s backcountry, although it won’t have much effect on winter travelers, as the park after milepost three every winter. Follow for construction and detour updates.

How to Be a Conscious Traveler

Please adhere to and responsible national-park travel principles, including but not limited to: be prepared for the conditions, watch for and steer clear of wildlife, stay on trails, never trespass, and never set up your aurora-hunting post in the middle of a road or parking lot.

Stephanie Vermillion is a travel and astro-tourism journalist and photographer who’s chased auroras from Iceland, Norway, and Greenland to Minnesota, Michigan, and New England. Her most recent excursion was a three-week lights-hunting trip through Greenland and Iceland this fall—with not one but seven nights beneath those green swirls.

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Brent McGregor first learned of the ice caves under Mt. Hood’s Sandy Glacier from a 2010 YouTube video that showed hikers around one of the entrances. An accomplished caver, the then 58-year-old from Sisters, Oregon, was in the midst of writing a book on the state’s caves and convinced his caving partners Eddy Cartaya and Scott Linn to help him locate an entrance.

In July 2011, the three rappelled into what is now agreed to be the largest known glacier ice cave system in the lower 48 states. They were the first people to fully explore and map a mile-long cave and, borrowing from avalanche terminology, dubbed it Snow Dragon. Since then, they’ve located two other caves under the glacier—Pure Imagination and Frozen Minotaur—and worked with astro-biologists and geologists to analyze artifacts, like feathers and bugs, trapped in the ice and measure the caves’ rapidly changing volume.

This June, along with German climatologist Andreas Pflitsch and photographer Josh Hydeman, the team completed their third scientific expedition, hoping to figure out how these massive caves were formed and what they tell us about the glacier above.

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