Generally, we don’t make much of a thing of the Summer Solstice: we simply mourn that the day after, the days start getting shorter again.
But when I was looking for a post-from-the-past to reblog for June, I came across this one, and was reminded of a Special Summer Solstice. Montségur, for the uninitiated, is a startling tump of a mountain celebrated as one of the last strongholds of the Cathars, a mediaeval Christian sect. It’s a potent landmark in the Ariège.
June 21st, 2011
Summer solstice, Montségur
All this time we’ve been here, we’ve not seen the sunrise over Montségur. Today, midsummer day, I decided to change all that. Me and 99 others……
I arrived at the car park just after 5 o’clock, at the same moment as a hare which had for at least two frantic minutes been trying to out-run me. And I realised I was not alone. It was still dark, and quite a difficult business to trek up a steep, slippery rocky path. Other more provident people had torches, and everybody helped one another.
Towards the top, the night sky was slowly washed from inky blue to delicate blues, pinks and greens by the sun which was still well below the horizon.
I found a couple of friends there, and a vantage point relatively distant from the crowd crammed into the castle ruins. They had come to see something special – the rays of the sun as they poured through the ruined windows. I decided it was too packed with people to feel special in there. I’ll come back another day soon, to see for myself.
What I saw was quite wonderful enough: a rich copper disk slowly mounted above the line of mountains in the distance, tinting the sky ochre, rusty-red, sugar-pink, finally emerging so fiery bright I could no longer look at it. Some locals burst – quite beautifully – into song. Occitan/Ariègeois stalwarts, ‘Quand lo Boièr ven de laurar…’ and, inevitably, ‘Se Canto’.
Gradually the whole sky lightened and brightened, turning the entire landscape crisply clear. I strolled round the summit – it was surprisingly easy to get-away-from-it-all, before skidding and climbing my way down to the car park again….
….and there were my companions who’d provided torchlight. They were hitching, because their car had failed to start. We journeyed back to civilisation together, ready to resume normal service. It was 7.30 a.m.
What an unforgettable experience.
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Oh it was. I think of it every year at this time.
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Oh, stunning….a wonderful future nostalgia stored
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Oh yes. It was special.
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I love those Cathar castles, so what a brilliant place To experience the Solstice
ce to
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That must’ve been a heck of a climb, in the dark! The descent looks kind of terrifying, even in daylight. But what an amazing, unparalleled experience.
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No, not terrifying. If you live there long enough, you aquire a few mountain-goat genes. And it was so worth it.
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What I don’t understand about Mont Ségur and it’s Pog is how it moves its position depending on the weather!
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Eh?
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Depending on my vantage point it isn’t always in the same position as it was the time before!!
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Oh right. You can tell from my bemusement that I hadn’t noticed this.
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A beautiful sight, that sunset! Worth remembering!
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Oh, sunrise, sunrise! Up at 4.00, but worth it.
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Stunning. I just managed to sneak past Stonehenge after delivering my parents home as they were preparing for the solstice. Having very recently read about the event at Stonehenge there was the briefest temptation to pull in and await the dawn. Perhaps another year 🙂
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I love this post…and I’d have been with you searching out my own place of calm away from the others to enjoy the spectacle of the sunrise 🙂
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It really was special, Al.
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What a wonderful experience! I love the thought of you all climbing up the mountain in the semi-dark and gathering, waiting for the sun. The singing must have been quite thrilling. One of those almost primitive, pagan moments we sometimes experience in large crowds.
I have often thought how wonderful it would be to see the summer solstice dawn especially if it was in a special place. Many people gather at Lowestoft, which is the most easterly point in Britain. One day I’ll do something about it!
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Don’t make it ‘one day’. Put it in your diary now for next year! Yes, it was wonderful to be part of something so – well – almost religious in its intensity and common purpose. But finding a quiet spot just for me was important too.
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Fantastic shadows and light. I wonder if everyone feels that tension between appreciating the communal but needing solitude as well?
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Yes, indeed. It was wonderful to be part of an ‘occasion’. But enough is enough.
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