We hear a lot of grousing, as the winter solstice approaches, about the misery and depression caused by the early evening darkness. We perhaps don't appreciate how good we've got it here, compared to Ebenezer Scrooge, poring over his ledgers by candlelight at 51º north latitude. And consider the travail of the printers, also working in the near dark, as they tried to decipher Charles Dickens' almost illegible hen-scratchings, blots, circles, and marginal additions, in those opening lines of A Christmas Carol.
Most of Europe is darker than we are during the winter. The mouth of the Rhone River, where it debouches into the sunny Mediterranean, is at the same latitude as Woodstock, Vermont. Paris is north of Montreal. And Trondheim at 63º north? There's a reason Scandinavians stage a mighty Christmas light show. It's a Viking gesture of defiance at the all-encompassing darkness.
My friends Larry and Helen in Kugluktuk, on the shore of Coronation Gulf looking out upon the old Northwest Passage, have dining room picture windows facing south and east up the broad valley of the Coppermine River. The view is spectacular. But at the moment it's pretty much a reflection of what's indoors; the sun has disappeared for a few weeks. In mid-January, Helen will post a photo taken with her cell phone, of a bit of bright orange peeping over the southern hills at high noon. Many people would find that time of darkness oppressive, but the changes between that and uninterrupted midsummer daylight are so swift and dynamic it's actually interesting.
When my buddy Dudley and I, skiing night and day during the 200-mile Alaska Marathon in February of 1985, I was fascinated by not only the depth of the darkness in the bush – holding my mittened hand a foot above the snow, I could see its shadow by the light of Venus – but by the discernible difference in the time of each day's sunrise. It might have been 26º below one night, but spring was on its way back like a tsunami.
Still, February is two months away (when, incidentally, if nothing more goes wrong, I'll be enjoying almost endless daylight south of 60º). How do we make the most of the current crimp in our daylight hours?
If you have to be at work by the clock, there's not much – except, perhaps, rejoice that we no longer have to remove our 6-volt car batteries on icy nights and carry them indoors to keep warm. Reinstalling them in the predawn by flashlight and with freezing fingers was one of life's grimmest chores 65 years ago. How often, in order to be near the head of the line of contractors, was I at the lumberyard in the dark. Again, at 4:15 in the afternoon, I routinely announced, "Well, 'bout time to pick up." Safely packed, we sat on tailgates in the dark, talked a while, and headed home.
We cope in various ways. Kids in far northern Europe and Russia take spa soaks and read by full-spectrum light at school. In some parts of Scandinavia, alcoholism runs rampant during the winter; in others, thousands take to skis in long-distance loppets. Seasonal affective disorder seems to disrupt many sedentary lives; working inside "light boxes" seems to help. Me, I've got a little terrier who can read a clock, and knows in advance when it's time for our daily walk in the park.
And everywhere there are lights. Houses, trees, even concrete-mixing trucks blaze across our eyes wherever we turn. Men with hydraulic lifts deck the downtown streets with overhead stars and angels with trumpets. Why the trumpets? They're announcing: the sublime metaphor of a tiny newborn baby bringing light to a dark world. Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, and Kwanzaa, both focusing on rows of candles with symbolic meaning.
Light attracts us during dark times. We gather like moths to a flame and sit in communal circles, singing, talking, telling stories, watching familiar faces by firelight, candlelight, or lamplight. Our backsides may be freezing, but it's then that we feel warmest and closest together.
Photo credit: Joe Klementovich
UPCOMING EVENT - Sunday, October 6, 2024 - Trail Mixer 2024 Windows to the Wild Event
WINDOWS TO THE WILD WITH WILLEM LANGE is generously supported by the Alice J. Reen Charitable Trust and the Bailey Charitable Foundation
Willem Lange’s wardrobe is generously donated by The Kittery Trading Post
Fifty years ago, a group of citizens stopped the development of an oil refinery.
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Thanks to our podcast partner: The Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication at Franklin Pierce University
Adventure journalist Freddie Wilkinson and a group of indigenous paddlers set out.
We rejoin adventure journalist Freddie Wilkinson and a group of indigenous paddlers.
A team of researchers study the effects of human interactions with Canada Jays.
Joe Klementovich travels along Maine's rivers on a paddleboard.
Marshall Hudson writes stories about interesting and often forgotten places and people.
Scarlett, also known as "Little Foot" has hiked all 48 of New Hampshire's 4,000 footers.
Mirna Valerio does it all. She runs, hikes and skis. She encourages others, no matter who they are.
Willem Lange and a group of New England travelers explore the beauty and culture of France.
The Gulf of Maine offshore wind farm could become New England's next source of renewable energy.
Elevate Youth empowers youth to explore the outdoors and promotes environmental stewardship.
Gregory Rec and his daughter Corrina love hiking together.
Myah Rather is a Meteorology and Atmospheric Science student from Maryland.
As an NHPBS member, you'll be among the first to experience it.
Randy Pierce lost his sight in 2000, but not his determination to keep hiking.
Dogtown, part of the forgotten forests of Cape Ann, Mass.
Wildlife videographer Alfred Balch heads into the woods with Willem.
Find out what attracts our feathered friends to this special spot.
A North Conway, NH family shares what they learned about the effects of climate change.
Host Willem Lange takes viewers on a ride along the Scenic RailRiders track in Concord, NH.
Willem and Wendy Lull explore and discuss ways to record and preserve life on the coast.
Willem goes looking for moose with long-time moose researcher Charles Willey in Colebrook.
A trip along Vermont's Long Trail.
Join host Willem Lange on a tour of a Cambridge oasis -- the Mount Auburn Cemetery.
Willem and a group of people from throughout New England took a trip through Ireland.
What do you do with a section of 170-year-old abandoned railroad track?
Melissa Elam has hiked all of NH's 4,000-foot mountains with her cat, Floki.
A North Conway family shares what they learned about the effects of climate change.
Gabriel Andrus will ski from the northern border of NH to its southern border this winter.
There are gems in the hills. Host Willem Lange learns there's a lot to rock hunting.
Arlette Laan is the first woman to hike all eleven of the National Scenic Trails.
Kayaker Betsy Wish set out years ago to meet the people who catch our lobsters.
Host Willem Lange is at sea on the American Eagle schooner.
The Manchester Cedar Swamp Preserve is considered an ecological gem.
WINDOWS TO THE WILD's good friend and Outdoor Enthusiast, Chaya Harris from Outdoor Afro.
Getting outdoors is important but its also important to be safe.
New Hampshire resident Susan Dromey Heeter is competitive.
Competitive rower Erik Frid takes a break from competition to row 300 miles.
Susie Spikol is a naturalist at the Harris Center for Conservation Education.
Mt. Eustis Ski Hill opened in 1939 and was a community gathering place until it closed.
David Krueger is a Language Specialist / Interpreter, you may have seen him.
Redline guide Ken Hodges hikes with Debby "Bear Repellent" Roberts.
Willem hikes with partners and participants of Summits in Solidarity.
The Lifesaving Station at Wood Island was used for sea rescue prior to the Coast Guard.
The Lifesaving Station at Wood Island was used for sea rescue prior to the Coast Guard.
Conway photographer Joe Klementovich uses a paddleboard to explore 130 miles of the Saco.
Students attend school aboard a schooner.
Join us for an all new season of Windows to the Wild with Willem Lange! Wednesdays at 7:30
Host Willem Lange is with friends on the Tucker Mountain trail in Vermont.