Summer solstice and a source of connection

Experience and photos from June 21, 2025

Along dusty and rocky trails, the rubber of our bike tires flexed and shifted with every bump and dip. Every rotation ushered us closer to the back of the valley. Our group of eager friends, energized by the understanding of a day without night, strapped, bungee-tied, and fastened gear to whatever metal or human extremities we could find. Our destination: Serenity Falls Cabin.

That was, however, just our physical destination. At the risk of sounding cliché, a risk I feel inclined to take, I’ll offer that, at least for myself, this trip presented much more than a physical destination.

For those unfamiliar, Serenity Falls is nestled deep within the valley that surrounds Eklutna Lake. This land is the traditional land of the Dena’ina peoples. I acknowledge and appreciate the privilege of experiencing and connecting with this place.

I encourage you to visit https://www.eklutnainc.com/culture/ to learn more about this area, its people, and its importance for all.

The city of Anchorage pulls its drinking water from Idlu Bena (Eklutna Lake). It is the source that provides life for those who live in this area.

As we ventured further into the valley, the trail hugged the lake's curvature, winding closer to reveal the expansive, shimmering pool, and then continued into denser forest. I began to feel a pull, or a push? Something was inviting me in. Though the air was still and warm, it was as if I had an apparent but gentle tailwind. 

The once wide trail that started from the congested parking lot gave way to a narrow, quiet, and, if not for the squeaking and rattling of our bikes echoing through the trees, still band of earth.

The solstice sun stayed high in the sky throughout our ride, offering warmth and clarity as we approached the valley's heart.

The summer solstice in Alaska is special. It exists in stark contrast to the winter reality during which I write about this experience. Some would say it induces a manic state of activity, where those who have endured the long, dark winter find motivation in their ability to exist with the sun without pause. I agree, and I see the ways in which those who exist here channel that energy and activity to connect with their community and the land.

Solstice, both summer and winter, exist to illuminate the equally important, yet vastly different, states of being. They offer a time to appreciate that which was not absent, but present in different forms throughout the year: light, warmth, and connection.

This idea of connection has been presented to me constantly over the last few years, and experiences like this provide the space for it to flourish.

The Serenity Falls cabin is tucked into a quiet corner of the valley. It exists as a destination, a home base, and a conduit through which its visitors can discover the connections that have always existed.

A short walk past tall trees and dense bushes, around the bend, and down a steep and narrow path, the full force of the water was present. It wasn’t as if it was presenting itself, but rather it existed with a bold aloofness as if to say, “I exist whether you see me or not.”

The river ran so strongly that if you dared challenge it to speak, you needed to shout for the person next to you to hear. A moment of pause to appreciate the power, then a slow walk to dip toes in the small eddies that held more still water.

Standing in the cold flow, as waves crashed over the rocks ahead of me, the constant and unyielding whoosh filled my ears, and small splashes bounced between the stones beside me. I understood what was pulling me along the trail earlier.

In this moment, I realized what Indigenous people had already known and experienced. The connection of this water to the lives of those nearby. Not just the people, but the fish, birds, plants, and animals that all exist because of this source of life. The connection, in this modern age, to nearly 300,000 people just a few valleys over.

I could see this short path of the river with my eyes, but with the very core of my being, I could see the infinite and timeless path of this water. Its origin, a thought I held naively as if it were a single point in space, washed away as I understood that this river has no beginning, no starting point, or final destination. It flows through this valley and infuses with all beings it comes in contact with, sharing a piece of itself as they share a piece back.

This river does not end when it flows from my faucet. I take its energy in and then give my energy back. Just as the energy shared between friends during this trip did not end when we packed up our bikes and drove away from the lake. It will exist in us for as long as we live, and continue after we’ve passed.

It exists in these words that I write in an attempt to seek some sort of understanding to rationalize the feelings that this place, this community, and these people share with me…