Chasing the Solstice Sun, archival pigment prints, handmade Douglas fir frame, 34 x 42 inches, 2023
3 hour drive, the last being an hour of bright summer dawn before the sun rose. Miles down gravel and an 8 track from Wanakena, a town of less than 200 in the heart of the mountains that shaped me. It’s June 21, 2023, the summer solstice, but it's cold here today. Pants, a puffy, and snow gear in my pack. The day begins with miles through the trees as the solstice sun rises and the first patches of snow emerge after a short while. The sun is warm but the air remains cold. There is not a cloud in the sky to start, but a few begin to roll up the peak as the day moves on. I break through the trees, head back in for a while, and then scramble up some snowy volcanic rock. I throw on the snowshoes after the scramble, where the snow is deep, the solstice sun melting its surface and piercing through my sunglasses. The wind is blowing a bit more up here, over the glaciers and up the valleys as snowballs roll down the mountain. The clouds push up and over Hood, all coming from the north. I can see Rainer and St. Helens from here too. Up the ridge and there. I am still alone and haven't seen another person all day besides the attendant at the gas station at 4am. Evergreens, the sound of birds, snow, glaciers, volcanic rock, the gentle howl of the wind, blue skies, clouds forming in front of me, the thought of magma beneath foot, and the solstice sun illuminating it all.
