The Solstice of Summer
“I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can.”
John Muir
Our sons are young men in their mid-20s now and eager adventure-seekers. Two summers ago, in June, they backpacked into the northern Alaska wilds, into the Gates of the Arctic National Park. Cellphones were useless there, so we asked them to carry not only a satellite phone in case of emergency, but also a GPS tracking device that would allow us to see their progress. At the end of each day’s hike into the backcountry, they would send an “all’s well” message via the device.
The evening of their second day in, we logged into the app on our computer to check their progress. Blue dots flowed along a topographical map showing their trail to the base of a mountain. But we didn’t see the message indicating their hike for the day was ended and they were safely at camp. My husband and I were also in Alaska for vacation, but not as far north and definitely not backpacking. Because it was the summer solstice, we made a point of attending to the light that evening, watching until after 10 to see the sun still lingering on the horizon. It was small distraction, though, from our anxiety. We agreed that the GPS device must be faulty; that’s why we stopped getting information. Surely, they were safe. But by the time we went to bed, we still hadn’t seen the “all’s well” signal from them.
At the time of the summer solstice in the Northern hemisphere, the sun is at its northernmost and highest point in the sky. Just as the winter solstice is considered the day of most darkness, the summer solstice is the day of most light. It falls close to and is often celebrated with Midsummer (June 24) in many countries. There, bonfires and festivals mark the holiday. One way to observe the day in northern climates is to eat the first strawberries of the year. Where we live in the southeast US, strawberry season is over, but in the northeastern states, it’s just beginning.
On that day two summers ago, our observance was simple and tinged with worry. The next morning, we wasted no time logging in to check on our sons. Still no “OK” signal. Instead, we saw the blue dots of their trail head up a mountain around 10:00 the night before and back down after midnight. My husband said, “Why in the world were they hiking up a mountain at that time of night?!” The answer came to us both at the same time: “The solstice!” I said. “They hiked up a mountain to celebrate the summer solstice!”
If trekking up a peak in the Alaskan wilderness is a bit too risky for you, as it is for me, consider other ways to celebrate and observe this longest day / shortest night. Go for an evening hike nearby. Observe the sunset. Taste the first fruits of whatever ripens this time of year in your area. Maybe there are other ways you mark the day. We invite you to share them with us.
