I read a funny post online a few years ago. Some English guy quipped that their Egyptian wife had never heard of Stonehenge, so he proudly showed her photos of it, assuming she’d recognise the rocks and just not know the name. She was wildly unimpressed, and claimed that his ancestors were “small and weak“.
So, this is a great way to introduce the topic of today’s story time, where Great Uncle Dan sits you down by the fireplace and tells you about all the cool shit he did when he was young. (I’m writing this assuming that some quasi-distant relation of mine is reading my writings as a way of coping with and/or researching my mysterious disappearance in the Summer of the Third Water War.)
Stonehenge is an innately British piece of ancient architecture. Whereas that guy’s wife had the pyramids, and Italy has the Colosseum, we have a circle of rocks in the middle of a field. It’s the way of our people – if we cannot steal from you, we’ll make something big out of a pile of rocks.
Nowadays, visitors are not allowed to go near the stones themselves. They’re protected by a foot-tall ring of rope, which nobody can pass. That is, of course, apart from one single day, every year; Summer Solstice.
We arrived at 2am. By this time, most of those who will be visiting have arrived, the car park is packed, and small groups of people are heading towards the stone circle, around 20 minutes away by foot. As we get closer, we begin to hear music, drum circles, pan flutes, bells, and chanting. There, a little ahead in the midst of the crowd, we notice a few blue shapes, floating above the sea of heads. Stonehenge itself loomed over the crowd, waving and hobbling to the music.
Gosh, if only there was a way for me to describe to you what it sounded like:
Stonehenge is illuminated by a set of powerful UV lights, painting the rocks in a dim eerie glow. And from the middle of the circle, a gentle spiral of people rotate around the centre. The centre itself is nigh impossible to get to. It turns out this year created a sort of perfect storm, where the highest turnout in modern history took place. Some 25,000 people showed up for summer solstice this year, nearly triple what previous years have hosted.
We approach the rocks, and manage to, after some bumbling around in the dark, step inside the outer stone circle, and place our hands on the rocks themselves.
Interesting note, I don’t know if it’s the heat wave we’re in, or something to do with sarsen and dolerite having high thermal mass, or something even more mystical, but the stones were all warm. They were also BIG. Way bigger than I expected! Standing beneath them conjures mental images of a mythical giant lugging stone over vast distances. I’ve found that, if I think too long about how human’s transported these rocks 5,000 years ago, without the use of wheels, makes me feel irritable and confused, so I’ve decided to think about yogurt flavours instead.
This calms me.
In and around the circles, people take photos, make conversation, and dance to the music. The floor was full of sleepers, people sprawled out on the dark ground as people walked around and over them. I admire the ability to fall asleep in a public place, and in the dark of night where strangers are walking around you in a loud environment, is even more impressive. Especially in the centre, it was near impossible to walk without accidentally trodding on somebody.
Outside of the circles, there were people randomly strewn out around the field. Some were kitted out with a rucksack and an eye mask, while others brought sleeping bags and in some cases, tin foil. The picture below, for example, is not a burrito that somebody left in a field, rather a sleeping human that I took a photograph of in the middle of the night.
Slowly, but surely, the sky to the east started to illuminate with the soft glow of tomorrow, and the crowd around the centre of the rocks surged, pushing us cowards to the outer limits of the field. From this point, we’d be able to see the sun rise behind the structure, without being trapped like sardines.
Many people at Stonehenge’s Solstice event talk about feeling more connected with their ancestors. Especially for those who follow druid or pagan belief systems, the environment, the rituals, and the reverence of the space are all key to re-establishing a connection with those who came thousands of years before us. Some of the visitors were clearly there for spiritual reasons, but they were presumably a minority. Visitors ranged from tourists donning elf ears, to raving roadmen, complete with JD Sports bags and Bluetooth speakers.
Kymberley and I got hungry around 4am, so we went for pizza at one of the many pop up stands near the entrance. The event had the vibes of a festival, complete with £4 bottles of water, and clogged portable loos. And speaking of ancestry, I reconnected with whatever instinct we have to retch at the scent of shit and piss. Seriously, if you go to summer solstice at Stonehenge, consider a catheter bag.
Oh, and don’t go if you don’t like the smell of weed.
On our way back, we crossed a group of monks, who had been drumming and chanting and dancing since before we arrived. I believe it was the Maha Mantra, a Sanskrit chant used to tune the mind into something above the usual noise.
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
Hare Rama Hare Rama
Rama Rama Hare Hare
As sunrise time approached, the crowd began to grow silent, a steady drum somewhere near the middle sounded like a human heartbeat. Behind us a baritone saxophone played a few scattered notes. The crowd stood, all facing east. Phones and cameras rose into the air as photographers, influencers and tourists alike readied to capture what we’d all been waiting for. One person had a 16 foot spindly stick, that held a prosumer grade DSLR (big and heavy) up in the air above the ground. It looks vaguely like a plant from a Dr Seuss movie.
A nervous sense of expectation hung in the air, almost like we were awaiting the appearance of a rock star at a meet and greet.
And then, in a sudden flash, the top of the sun appeared over the tree line.
The crowd around us cheered, and the music swelled (diegetic). I recall a strong feeling of joy at seeing the sun – there was something special about this sunrise, about everybody gathering here, about the history of the place. After another 10 minutes or so, the first of the crowd starts to disperse.
There’s still another 5 or 6 hours until they close the area down for solstice, but we were tired, and we had a long drive, so we started to slowly make a move. In a way, some of the people there paralleled the stones themselves. Many of those who had arrived before us, planned to stay for much longer after we’d be gone.
I’m sticking some photos of the different groups of people, especially throughout the morning. Something nice I’d like to highlight is, despite there being so many different belief groups. Druids, green men, wiccans, astrologists, pagans, monks. Not a single one wanted to push their beliefs onto one another. They all happily shared the same space. I took a look at the comments online. An overwhelming majority opted to mock, doomsay or suggest eternal damnation, a real shame.
Kymberley, of course, looked radiant and divine, despite having had a little less than 2 hours sleep.
I enjoyed the summer solstice at Stonehenge, but I don’t really believe I found any spiritual enlightenment or focus in the same way that Buddhism helped me. It was an interesting experience, but in it’s current form, 25,000 people descending on a small monument feels like a cramped festival. I’m happy I attended, and I think you should too. Just don’t expect transcendence in a crowd of 25,000 people and a field full of burritos.