On the shortest day of the year we revisit our brilliant Nub News columnist Sparky and his take on the winter solstice today, Thursday, December 21, 2023

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If there's a more hazardous footpath to get to, I've yet to find it.

This was just one of the concerns that crossed my mind as I leapt into the scrubby roadside hedge to dodge yet another speeding car.

I had the right to be there on that wintry carriageway- without pavements- but just because you can doesn't mean that you should. Or that it was even a good idea to start with.

And to just to add to the fun, thick black clouds were starting to gather in a sky already smudged with distant rain.

None of this was helping my mood

But curiously, I knew exactly what I was letting myself in for, having taken this route several times before.

And as you head for the start of the snappily entitled 'Public Footpath 27' it is always the unavoidably fraught navigation of a short stretch of the B656 Hitchin to Hexton road that stands between you and the relative freedom of the path.

This couple of hundred metres of busy road is not for the fainthearted, but hey, if we don't regularly use these less-favoured rights of way, however inaccessible, then we might lose them forever.

In desperation and by way of motivation I was now telling myself that I was undertaking a genuine public service. And you're very welcome.

Once I left the road and reached the stile by Wobbly Bottom Farm, everything improved instantly.

Not only was I free of troublesome cars, but I could now also enjoy the fine view of Mount Pleasant to my left and the rolling sheep fields in the valley below, all framed by the shapely backlit backdrop of the hills on the horizon.

I was now well and truly off the road and was far happier as a result.

Most of my adventure so far had been illuminated- if that's not too strong a word- by that anaemic and watery sunlight so favoured by afternoons in mid-December.

Quite different to the golden clarity of May and the haziness of late summer, for example, but not unattractive.

And no doubt as a partial result of these peculiar times, I seem to have been noticing and appreciating this wan light's effect on our surroundings more than in previous winters.

Perenially dull and uneventful woods seem to have assumed an air of interest and atmosphere previously lacking and the horizon is now regularly set ablaze well before the sun finally waves goodbye: at 4pm.

It's a quality of light well worth seeking out and this is exactly what I did on my walk, carrying on my wanders by scooting across the busy A505 at Offley Cross and then on to Hoar's Lane to Temple End and Offley Holes.

The rainclouds did thankfully depart, and a rainbow formed over the distant town. Perfect.

And it was this peculiar winter light that then got me musing as I strolled, pondering on the very nature of mans' relationship with the precious sun at this time of year.

The winter solstice occurs at exactly 1002am on Monday, (December 21) This is the precise time when the north pole is at its maximum tilt from the sun, and as a result we in the northern hemisphere have our shortest day.

Here in Hitchin the sun will rise at 807am and set at 352pm, giving us a paltry seven hours and 45 minutes of daylight.

However- and there's always a 'however'- none of us should expect lighter evenings and longer days any time soon afterwards.

In fact, to the naked eye the sun's feeble height in the midday sky barely changes for several days after the solstice and the days only start to get noticeably longer from around the 25th December, according to the modern Gregorian calendar.

To ancient man this time of stasis was one of fear, having already been driven inside to shelter from winter's myriad curses.

Without the sun for warmth and light, both man and their sources of food would perish in due course and they knew it.

What was far less certain to them is that the sun would eventually reappear and grow stronger. As I said, a time of fear, and superstition.

To them, greeting the sun on the morning of the solstice was an opportunity to thank it for its lifegiving energy throughout the year so far: it was a visible power and a deity to many.

In addition to the gratitude there would no doubt be entreaties for it to return and take them back into the light.

And as we have seen from the dates above, they would have to wait a few uncertain days to know that their wishes had been granted.

And when its return was certain there would have been genuine relief and celebration all round.

Hence the importance of this day, some four days after the solstice, to primitive man. And all of this well before calendars and the eventual arrival of Christ, several thousand years in the future.

If you are in any doubt, just ask any pagan, Mayan, Animist, druid, shaman or follower of Mithras about this auspicious date and the importance of the return of Sol Invictus, the 'Unconquerable Sun'.

I go to a local hill with an old friend every solstice- both summer and winter- to try and experience some of this wonder for myself.

We are lucky to have many suitable vantage points on our doorstep but choose your spot wisely as you will need an uninterrupted view to the east.

Unfortunately our handy and wonderful Windmill Hill does not quite fit the bill so you will need to travel just a little bit further, I'm afraid.

We often meet a handful of other adherents to this custom at our chosen spot, so we are rarely alone.

Everyone is there for their own reasons, but all are likely to be at least partly motivated by an atavistic urge. After all, you need dedication to be out and about at 440am in June and leave your warm house before 8am in December. By choice.

Many say quiet words under their breath as the sun appears over the horizon. These shouldn't be formal prayers as such, being individual to each observer on that hill.

I'd be surprised if Sol Invictus expects formality. So, I'm sure we can all imagine what it must have been like for our ancestors to be driven inside by fear and danger, just as the world outside becomes its darkest and its coldest.

Perhaps it's just a bit too easy for us to emphasise this time round and I think that anyone in this situation would try anything for some added safety and security.

See you on that hill then.

Sparky