The Surprises of a Summer Solstice Sunrise

The sky was starting to brighten in the east as I headed out on my bike to watch the sun rise. It was 4 a.m., June 21, 2023. The longest day of the year.

The sun would be visible rising over the eastern horizon sometime during the minute of 5:25 a.m. The exact second depends on your exact location, I suppose. It was summer solstice but it wasn’t the earliest the sun rises. It actually rises at 5:24 a.m. each of the ten days prior to June 21. However, on those days the sun sets earlier than on summer solstice, so those days are shorter. By mere seconds. It’s complicated.

In meteorology terms it was nautical dawn, the time of day when there’s just enough light for objects to be recognized. It was during that time that I rode my bike up the road to Memorial Park on Soren’s Bluff. The canopy of trees kept it dark, so I was focused on the part of the road my bike’s headlight covered. It was certainly nice having an electric bike. The day would be another hot one but right then it felt almost cold in my shorts and tee shirt.

Half-way up were signs warning of two speed bumps ahead. I had encountered these on an earlier ride up the road but this time the bumps had been removed. They were the type that are bolted into the road. Since the signs were still there, I wondered if someone had unscrewed and stolen them.

Once on top, I checked out the view to the east from three locations. None of them provided the view I wanted. In all the wonderful updates done to the park, there still really isn’t a good view to the east. Clearing some trees might be all that’s necessary. But as sunrise grew closer, I had to find a good location. I chose the view next to the sugarloaf which was acceptable because the sun is so much further north now.

As a kid growing up on East Seventh Street along the base of Soren’s Bluff, I remember watching a few sunrises and even more sunsets from the bluff top. I’m not sure I saw a sunrise on summer solstice, though. It was too tough to get up at 4 a.m. back then after a full day of playing outside.

As dawn approached, I fumbled with the lightweight tripod I brought. It was really a selfie stick with a weak tripod option, certainly not sturdy for a full-size camera. I knew from experience that a telephoto shot in low light would result in blurred photos. The camera has a stabilization feature but at full zoom it’s still hard to hold still.

The eastern horizon appeared hazy, making me wonder if the sun would be obscured. I set the clock on the camera to the time on my cell phone and enabled the date/time option so it would appear on the photo. Suddenly, it was 5:25 and I still saw nothing. But then, just as I was thinking that clouds and haze would ruin the experience, I noticed the tiny tip of an almost red orb appear on the horizon. There really wasn’t much haze and the sun was going to be very visible.

The strange thing about sunrises and sunsets is that you see the sun rise when it’s still six degrees below the horizon. You can blame atmospheric refraction for that. We actually see the sun “rise” about two minutes before it actually reaches the horizon. The reverse is true with sunsets, where the sun is already six degrees below the horizon before we see it disappear.

I got some decent photos within the limits of a digital superzoom camera. The photos would have been nicer if they included a recognizable landmark on the Mississippi River valley. But there just wasn’t any from my perspective.

While I was pretty certain I was the only one on Memorial Park, I wondered if anyone was watching the sunrise on He Mni Can-Barn Bluff. I looked over at its majestic point that looks downriver but it was far enough away that I couldn’t quite tell in the early morning shadows. So I used my camera to find out.

When I got it zoomed in and focused, I was astonished that I was looking at a young couple in the middle of a hug ‘n’ kiss fest. About the only time they stopped was when the young lady took a photo of the sunrise. Then, back to it. 

She was sitting on his lap, precariously close to the buff’s edge. They were still at it a half hour later when I moved to the main vista overlooking downtown Red Wing. Maybe it was the afterglow of a marriage proposal. If so, congratulations! I hope they stayed focused on their climb back down.

I was too tired to go back up the bluff to watch the sun set at 8:58 p.m. But I’m confident it happened, right on time.