Midsummer's Eve: Let There Be Fire

The bonfire was just starting to build up when a German TV producer,
there with his crew to film the festivities offered to take this photo of  Bob

 There are two peculiarities about the Norwegian celebration of the longest day of the year.

The first peculiarity is the date. Without regard for the date of the actual summer solstice Norwegians always celebrate their Midsummer's Eve on 23 June. Why, I have no idea. It's not like they time it for the weekend -- this year the 23rd was a Wednesday.

The second peculiarity, which holds across Scandinavia, not just Norway, is the lighting of fires. It seems counter-intuitive to require additional heat and light on the longest day of the year -- indeed, there is 24 hours of daylight this far north. Then again, we do the same just a few weeks after the solstice with the Fourth of July fireworks' display in an attempt to do away with night entirely, if only for a 30-minute show of explosives.

The locals appear to have two Midsummer's Eve celebrations. One is held about 11 p.m. away from the shore where the town of Svolvaer meets its mountains. We went to what was undoubtedly the "family" event (no beer) on the small island where our rorburer compound is located, just across the bridge from the main part of Svolvaer. Starting about 6  p.m. a crowd that eventually grew to about 250 gathered at the clearing jutting out into the water, a local recreation area that included a few picnic tables and fire pits. While waiting for the pagan ritual to begin, many (including your correspondent) lined up to buy pølse (hot dogs), soda and rommergrøt.

Jean Sue stuck with the pølse, but I went for the rømmergrøt which is about as simple a dish as you could make: porridge. But it was perfect to fill and warm you up while waiting for the bonfire. The porridge is made from milk and cream, flour and sugar, to which once ladled into your bowl you add quite a lot more sugar, this time mixed with plenty of cinnamon. Simple stuff, but good food.

The crowd cheered when the fire-starter arrived at 7 p.m. with his large container of gasoline. I'll call him Odd, since that's a common Norwegian male first name, and fitting to his job last night. Odd had a red face, probably from being close to too many fires, yet if he was experienced it didn't show. He got much too close to the large pile of wooden rubbish saved for the occasion. When the fire sent out a tongue of flame, or at least a blast of heat, Odd jumped back, bringing on laughter from the parents and kids watching. But Odd was not laughing: his red hair, especially his eyebrows, had to be singed, as well as a bit on his arms. For the next 10 minutes, as he continued to tend the fire, Odd kept rubbing his brow and checking his arms. Occupational hazard, I imagine.

The fire was built by a pile of rocks on the shore (the rocks are just about everywhere, although a couple of sand beaches do exist in these islands), just above the high tide line. There was nothing nearby to catch fire besides the bonfire, and if it did threaten, a front-end loader from the nearby fish plant could easily push it into the water.

The setting was ideal, with a view through the fire to distant islands and, looking off to the other side, the Svolvaer Goat and its craggy neighbors. By the time the fire started to die down we were both happy we could celebrate Midsummer's Eve in the Lofoten Islands.