I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Half of me thought, "These sun tunnels are so far out here, nobody's going to come this far just to see the sun pass through them." The other half of me thought it was going to be full of hippies, ravers, and pagans, and they were all going to be dancing naked, hand in hand, under the full moon to celebrate the longest day of the year. I was wrong on both accounts (except for the hippies). No more than fifty people gathered behind the tunnels as the sun approached the horizon. There was no loud music, no unusual rituals. It was just a group of people, watching the sun as it aligned with a magnificent piece of art. It was actually pretty quiet. Everyone took a turn to get their "Instagram" photo (including myself
). No one got angry for lingering too long, because no one did. And after the light had gone and the wind kicked up, everyone dispersed to their own previously claimed patch of dirt. There wasn't much said, because nothing needed to be said. All I know is, I can't wait to go back.