“We need the tonic of wildness...At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.”

Unexplorable

Exploring | Wandering | Collecting

Sólarhringur: a farewell to summer [journal]

By 04:34 , , ,

Let me introduce you to an Icelandic word I learnt recently: Sólarhringur.  With this word in mind, let's say goodbye to my Scandinavian summer.


Orcas at midnight in the Lofoten Islands, Norway

A word with no real, meaningful English translation, Sólarhringur translates simply as "sun circle" referring to the beautiful 24 hour sunlight of Scandinavian summer.  It's not the same as midnight sun, which refers only to the phenomenon of sunshine in the midnight hours, and "24 hour day" doesn't really sum it up either.  The Greeks know what's up, though, and refer to the phenomenon as nychthemeron, which means "lasting a day and a night".

While that light stopped two weeks or so ago now, I feel like the last day of summer - fittingly bright and orange and casting long shadows in the afternoon - is a good time to say goodbye to it.


Midnight near Dynjandi, Iceland

It followed me from Norway to Iceland.  Long days, long nights, the possibility to stay up and hike mountains at 3am if we felt like it.  Sleepless nights in the car, or one long, uncomfortable night on the Hurtigruten when we didn't book a cabin and slept in a light-filled lounge.

I've known long days.  A good summer's day in Melbourne sees sunshine until 10pm.  After that, though, the sun truly does set.

In June, in the north of Norway, the sky would glow a vibrant orange for long hours overnight.  We stepped out from our tent one night, shortly before 2am, and saw strangers walking along the beach holding hands.  The light, the temperature, the people walking around - it could've been 2 in the afternoon.  It was easy to lose track of time.

In July, and we'd moved a little further south, down to Iceland, and nights saw perpetual dusk.  From 10pm until sunrise, maybe 4 or 5am, the sky was a mix of pinks and blues, like the sun was rising and setting all at once.

Overlooking Kvalvika Beach at midnight, Norway

The days are growing shorter - eight minutes shorter per day.  I lose four minutes in the morning and four in the evening.  This has been the strangest and most magical summer.  When I think of summer, I think of warm sand and beaches and 40 degree heat.  Apart from one singular, sweaty day in Oslo, I don't think I've felt genuinely warm (at least not outdoors) all summer.  It was worth it for the sun, though.

Tomorrow is the first day of autumn, which means two things: 1) I'm not going to Hogwarts - which is a shame - and 2) I only have one short month left in Iceland before I head home. I'm spending a lot of time writing, a lot of time reading, walking the nearby cliffs and cuddling with our resident studio cat.  If anything changes, I'll keep you updated (*I also got a pretty nasty case of bronchitis... probably from all that ocean swimming). 


Cruising near Bodø at midnight, Norway

Lots of love xxx

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