Today, June 20, marks the summer solstice, the longest day of the year when we will enjoy 17 hours 42 minutes of daylight.
The sun will rise at 4.23am and set at 10.07pm.
Although it may feel like our summer has already passed, the solstice is the official beginning of astronomical summer.
I have often tried to mark this significant point of the calendar with a bike ride. Usually I am away working somewhere, so the ride will usually comprise of a 4am ride up a col somewhere in France to watch the sunrise.
The effort of forcing myself out of bed at such an early hour, with the thought of a full day of work ahead, has been amply rewarded with some of my most memorable, and on one occasion emotional, rides.
The Col du Galibier, Mont Aiguille have all provided grandstand views, and the emotional one, Mont Ventoux in Provence literally took my breath away as I watched the most incredible sunrise I have ever seen. On that occasion I remembered a good colleague and friend who had passed away only a few months before.
That working trip to Ventoux marked a year anniversary since I had last worked on the Giant of Provence. It was a sad occasion, but I knew that he would have approved.
I have always liked to observe the passing of the time as we move through the year, with outdoor adventures.
It may sound trite, but I find it a way to maintain a connection with my surroundings. For over thirty years I have hiked on the winter solstice and camped over Beltane.
My solstice exploits started with a cycle I did with my wife and other friends in 2005. On that occasion 14 of us met at the canoeists car park near Stanley at 10pm and pedalled east, through Coupar Angus and on towards Glen Isla.
One of my strongest memories of that ride was of, ironically, how dark it was.
I quickly realised that my lights were useful for being seen, but next to useless for seeing ahead. I wasn’t the only person in that situation and we gingerly pedalled our way towards the sunrise.
On that occasion the gloomy drizzle that had accompanied us for most of the night dampened a dreich dawn.
At best we were treated to a watery veil, that gradually progressed from complete darkness to a flat grey; a hint that the sun was rising somewhere, but we would be denied its glory. Yet our spirits were still high, despite our weariness.
One purpose of our ride had been to raise money for an asthma charity and our friends that had invited us along had organised relatives to meet us all at the end of the ride.
They duly did so, arriving with a camper van stocked with hot soup, cakes and sandwiches and as we chatted and ate, we all agreed, we should do this every year.
Sadly, it didn’t happen. Busy lives took over and since then, my summer solstice rides have invariably been solo.
Perhaps, with lockdown I have had too much time to think and reminisce, but I decided that this year would be different. My plan is to set out as a family of four at 10pm and cycle towards the sunrise, so by the time you are reading this with your Saturday morning cuppa we will all be tucked up in bed sleeping off our overnight ride.
As I sit and write this I realise I haven’t told my kids that I’m expecting them to stay up all night riding their bikes in what could be miserable Scottish weather – what could go wrong?
Cycling miscellany
It may feel like you are always riding into a headwind. A tailwind is only helpful when it is within a 160° arc behind you. If it is blowing anywhere from the remaining 200° then it will hinder your progress. Put simply 56% of the time the wind is against you and only 44% of the time is it helping you.
