This was a small-group two-week road trip with an emphasis on daily hikes. We were in a small bus (36 participants) followed by a cook truck which, with a staff of three, served great meals. We overnighted in small hotels, schoolgymsandhikerhuts.
All accommodations were spotlessly clean and comfortable. The scenery was fantastic, the hiking mildly to moderately strenuous, the Iceland horse riding terrific fun, the trip leader superb and staff delightful.
There are no photos from Kay. Her camera was lost in a river when her horse stumbled during a crossing
Author:LoisOliveGray
July 2000
Saturday, July 1
ARRIVAL IN KEFLAVIK
From Friendship International Airport we boarded our very cramped Icelandair plane to Reykjavik at 8:45 PM We ate a little of the plane’s supper and tried to sleep until an hour before landing at Keflavik Airport. The airport is interesting in that it is about 50 miles from the capital city It wasn’t really intended to be a municipal facility; it was originally built by the British and US governments as part of the defense of Europe and America during World War II.
Though Iceland tried to remain neutral during that conflict, Churchill recognized its strategic importance in keeping the sea-lanes open to British and American shipping during the early days of the war. Therefore, he sent British troops over to Iceland, not invited according to the official story, and just commandeered the land to build the airstrip and other necessary military structures to protect the island from German invasion. He did not interfere at all with Iceland’s own internal government and things apparently went on as before during the war.
After the US declared war in l941, the US took over the operations in Iceland towards the war effort. Amazingly enough, there is little or no resentment of either the Brits or the US for the rather high-handed way they handled the country’s “foreign affairs” from l939 to l945. Of course, the Icelanders did get an excellent airport out of the operation! Besides, what could 200,000 Icelanders do against the power of Britain and the US? Several Icelanders we spoke to said that on the morning of the British “invasion” of the harbor at Reykjavik, the townies were scanning the ship names to be sure it wasn’t the German fleet! Relief came with the sighting of the Union Jacks!
Currently, Keflavik is home to military men under the NATO flag. After the war, there was some resentment among Icelanders over the continued stationing of US troops at the airfield, mainly because the fellows were mostly single, bored with no important duties, rowdy when they came to town on leave, and ready to join battle with the young locals who were also spoiling for showdowns. Now, the military stations mostly married men in Iceland and they no longer wear uniforms when they come into Reykjavik or other Icelandic cities and towns. Relations between Keflavik and the rest of the country seem to be quite smooth
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and, of course, the nation benefits economically from the huge foreign presence.
Sunday, July 2
REYKJAVIK
As we groggily disembarked around 6 AM, we were dismayed but not surprised to find that the airport motor coach driver strike was still in progress; our travel agent had warned us about it. After standing about a bit wondering what to do (since we had also been told that the ride into town by cab would probably cost about $100 to $150) we saw two other women who looked as sleepy and confused as we did. It turned out they were Canadians and were on our tour. So we four joined forces and grabbed a cab into town for about $30 each.
We arrived at the Guðmundur Jónasson Guest House about 7:30 AM pretty much wiped out by fatigue from little or no sleep and jet lag only to find that were no rooms were yet available. Not too surprising when you consider the hour; why would the current guests want to be rousted out by this ungodly time? They did offer us breakfast in the lunchroom which we happily devoured: hot and cold cereals, toast, tea and coffee, fruit (apples and bananas), tomato and cucumber slices, hard boiled eggs, and of course the typical Scandinavian cold cuts. Then we went to the guest lounge to sleep on straight backed chairs (by stretching across 23 of them) until 10 AM when they finally rewarded us for good and quiet behavior by giving us our room keys. Napped again until noon and then ventured out to try the city bus system whose drivers were not on strike; we headed for downtown and arrived in a quick 20 minutes.
A bright sun was shining in a pretty much cloudless sky but it was chilly enough to us to need a light jacket. The town center was quite deserted when we first arrived and stayed that way until late afternoon. The few people we saw on the streets were not dressed warmly so this was pretty obviously a lovely summer day to them. Icelanders did not appear to our eyes quite as “Nordic” looking as the Swedes, Danes and Norwegians. We saw a wide range of hair colors from blonde to dark hues and red-heads as well. Not all eyes were blue and builds were slender in all age groups; but certainly all skin tones were quite pale! This variety must come from the mixture of Irish and Viking genes. Since we felt ill at ease, jet-lagged strangers in a strange land, we really could not
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yet judge the friendliness factor of the local inhabitants as we were not very outgoing ourselves. We did meet a couple of Scottish tourists with whom we talked for quite some time. It takes them only 1.5 hours to fly over from Glasgow and it’s relatively inexpensive for them to come to Iceland, except for the fearsome food prices.
First impressions of the city of Reykjavik (population 170,000 persons out of a total Icelandic population of 280,000) a fourth of whom are under 15 years of age were somewhat surprising! The city is quite colorful; guess we had expected rather drab grays and icy whites, but instead we saw barn reds, Wedgewood blues, buttercup yellows, rosy pinks, and even some seafoam greens on the houses and public buildings. Those buildings which are not constructed of stone are usually wooden structures sided with corrugated tin and roofed with tin as well.
The Althingi, the Icelandic parliament house, is a stone edifice, not a very pretentious one, which looks like typical public building construction from the late 1800s or the early 1900s. The Radhus, the Reykjavik city hall, is of much more modern concrete materials and is on the lakefront of Town Lake. Inside, and always open to the public, is a wonderful, horizontally displayed, room-sized relief map of the country with the mountains, glaciers, waterfalls, and volcanoes clearly denoted. This Town Lake is clearly a gathering spot for the citizenry.
As the day wore on, more and more people were seen beside the water with children and grandchildren gaily splashing and happily feeding the many birds on the surface ducks of all kinds, geese and gulls of several types. The sun sparkled on the water, the parents and grandparents smiled adoringly at the kids, the waterfowl ate to repletion. The whole city seemed entirely enchanted by the summer and the outdoor activities possible in the streaming light. How they must treasure the memories of these summer days when the long days of winter of darkness fall upon them.
The city contains many squares with public spaces. The square on which sit the Althingi and the Lutheran Cathedral, the Hallgrimskirkja, is a particularly popular place and it is festooned with such colorful flowers and such brave green grass. Some people bring picnics and blankets to sit on the lawn while the more early arrivals sit on the many benches provided.
The plaza in front of this largest church in the country is also hospitable to crowds. In the plaza is a greater than life-size statue of Lief Ericson given to Iceland by the people of the United States. However, since we are reluctant to give credit to anyone but Columbus for the discovery of America (because we were taught early on that “in 1492, Columbus sailed the Ocean Blue” and discovered the New World), the statue is engraved with the Viking’s name and “Discoverer of Vinland.” Old “truths” die hard, even when the best scientific evidence now strongly supports that Eric was in the area of Nova Scotia and even Massachusetts at least 350 years before the Pinta, Nina or Santa Maria scraped onto the shores of Hispaniola!
Inside the church, all is very spare as in most Scandinavian Lutheran churches white walls, modern pews, little or no statuary, very simple lectern and altar under a plain egg-shaped dome; the only real decoration is the wonderful design of the organ pipes. We can attest personally to the clear and resounding acoustics and the power and beauty of the organ since we were so lucky to find that there was an organ concert this very night at 8:00 PM. So jet-lagged or not, we were there. The organist was a guest artist from Oslo, Norway, and he was quite accomplished. We greatly enjoyed hearing that instrument and watching the cathedral walls practically “breathe” with the sounds. Even with all that volume, we were fighting sleep some of the time. One of the unique features of the church was the way in which the pews could be pushed over so that the audience could face to the front for services or to the rear for an organ recital.
Prior to the concert, we had a gourmet dinner at a fine restaurant on the main shopping square of the city. There were way too many letters, mostly vowels, in its name for me to recall it after the concert when it was time to write the diary. The
food was delicious and much more varied with salad and vegetables than we were
to enjoy for the rest of the trip. However, we also learned that the rumors about food in Iceland being very expensive are unassailably true. Our dinners (without alcohol or side dishes) were over $50.00 each!
We had much enjoyed exploring the city afoot for hours and then having that wonderful meal and the stirring concert afterward, but now we were pretty much “done in” and ready to head back to the Guest House for some sleep. Of course, the heavens were at odds with our sleepiness because even though it was well past 10 PM, the sun was as bright in the sky as it had been at noon! So we wandered over to the bus-stop we had carefully noted on our way into town and began to wait on the buses which the notice promised come every 20 minutes.
When an hour had elapsed, we decided that we needed more information. It happened that there was a bus terminal about a block away so we trudged there to see what was the matter. The lady behind the counter who was also making hotdogs, selling cigarettes, drawing up Cokes, finally deigned to look at us. In answer to our question about where to catch the #4 bus and when, she casually replied, “The # 4 is not running tonight; it’s broken down.” There was no notice to that effect (even in Icelandic) posted at the stop, yet she acted as if “everybody knows that!”
Anyway, we were stumped now because the #4 was the only bus which went in the direction of our guesthouse. We were by now just too tired to walk the 2.5 miles back so we gave up and hired a cabbie who charged us $9.00 for the drive. Icelandic taxi fares were reputed to be steep and that proved to be true as well. Oh well, we were home, showered, and in bed by midnight and asleep immediately.
Monday, July 3
THINGVELLIR
The alarm got us up at 7:30 for the breakfast that would turn out to be “the usual.” But it’s good and hearty fare and you certainly don’t have to get up from the table hungry! Following breakfast, we went downstairs to the tour office and paid to rent sleeping bags and liners for the two weeks. Then at 9:45 we went down to the street to be picked up for our “Mountain Highlights” tour with the G-J Icelandic Tour
Company.
At the front door, we met up with Pat and Lynn again (the Canadian cab sharers) and when the bus pulled in to get us, we discovered a large crowd already on board. Even though they had spread out all over the bus, when they realized that there were four more of us, they graciously grouped back together so that Pat and Lynn (who are sisters-in-law) could sit with one another and so could Kay and I. Imagine our surprise, no, our shock, when we realized the only language we were hearing was French! That’s right, we had been grouped with 30 French hikers because not enough English speakers had signed up! The bus was certainly large enough for the 36 of us (Oskar our guide and Magnus our driver made up the full complement) and we learned later in the day that our group was even larger by three. However, these three, Racka the head cook, Selena her assistant, and Halli the driver, would be riding in the cook bus that would follow us all through our journey!
We could see that translations might be a little awkward but more troublesome for Oskar than the rest of us. However, Oskar was quite the linguist and soon showed us his proficiency in both French and English. He has good enough command of them both so that he can joke and pun which was very impressive. He told us that he had lived a year in Newton, Massachusetts when he was 14 so that’s where he got the English. He presently lives part of the year in France so that explains his excellent French. Another part of the year he lives in Germany where he teaches Icelandic language to graduate students in a German university; so he is also fluent in German. He spends summers in Iceland seeing family and working in the tourist industry.
He turned out to be an excellent and delightful guide, with a comprehensive knowledge of his country’s history, its customs, government, literature, geology and sociology. He definitely enriched this introduction to a new country. He started out to familiarize us with Icelandic personality traits and said the most obvious important one is a love of irony. It evidently pervades their whole approach to life and defines their sense of humor. So we definitely watched for it in Oskar and all the other Icelanders we met.
Once all the details of loading us on board with all our gear and getting the rather
inadequate introductions to one another over, we headed out for a 45 minute ride to Thingvellir, the site of the Icelandic Parliament, founded 1000 years ago by the
Viking immigrants. This government was the first democratic parliament in the world. The settlers elected delegates to the parliament who attended the session for two weeks every year. A leader (or Law-Speaker) was elected for a three year term and one of his most important duties was to recite one-third of the law each session so that by the end of his term the entire law had been reiterated.
As it happens, Thingvellir is a very active volcanic site with regular earthquakes. As a matter of fact, there had been two 5.2 quakes on June 17 and 21 of this year. These quakes started some dormant geysers up again, including the Grand Geysir. The European and American plates meet in Iceland and in this place, you can actually stand with one foot in America and one in Europe by straddling the fault line. These plates are pulling apart about 2 centimeters a year and then volcanic activity fills in the resulting cracks, so Iceland is truly growing larger. That’s another reason why it’s quite accurate to call this country a “new land.”
Our first hike started here when we took off for about 2 hours through the lovely valley. Because Iceland truly is a “new land” born only 20 million years ago from all the volcanic eruptions, it is a very unusual looking place and difficult to describe because it’s hard to find analogies for it.
There is very little topsoil as new ash and lava are constantly being added on top of the land by the active volcanoes; therefore Iceland does not support much in the way of trees. Even when the Irish monks came, over 1000 years ago, closely followed by the Vikings, there was not much tree cover in the country, less than 10 percent, and the early settlers quickly logged the forest out. The only trees you see are the few being planted as part of a fairly recent reforestation project.
The spruce and fir trees are necessarily small and stunted due to the poor soil, very brief growing season, and harsh winters. However, the lovely wildflowers seem to have no trouble getting a foothold in this hard terrain. Our rock-strewn path was surrounded by fields of yellow, blue, lavender, dark purple and white blossoms. Rocks are the most common sight in Iceland of all sizes more of the volcanic bequest. So as it turned out, all our paths, no matter where in the country, were rock-strewn or even boulder-strewn. Because the flowers and the plants that supported them were so small, it appeared that we were walking in the tundra even though this part of Iceland is not very high at all, only a couple of hundred feet
above sea level.
As soon as we were out of the bus and on the trail, a new and totally unexpected sensation assailed us the air was so pure that we could literally smell all these flowers. Nowhere in the world have I ever smelled the fragrance of so many tiny flowers so clearly. It was dizzying to be surrounded with such aromas and have your eyes so full of color. The walk itself was not difficult at all other than picking a way among the rocks in order to stay balanced. Contrasting with the tenderness of these plants were the sharp edges of the lava flows, the acute angles of the surrounding mountains and volcanoes, the stoniness of the ground. Not much in this scenery to tempt you to lie down on the ground. Nor did you want to trip and fall it looked as though you would be cut to ribbons.
We heard many birds singing, croaking, cackling, chuckling all around us as well. Iceland does have a great variety of bird-life, though much of it is shore and sea birds. Since we were marching along near Lake Thingvellir, Iceland’s largest lake, there were many birds in the area. Along the walk, we often got good views of the Lake which looked gray and very cold! Not very inviting to be sure. Iceland does not look “comfortable.”
After a couple of hours of walking, we were given a demonstration of how most of our lunches would be handled. We met up with our bus where Magnus began unloading the trays holding sandwiches, pieces of cake, packaged cookies, and then thermos jugs filled with a Tang-like orange drink, hot water for tea, and coffee. The sandwiches were on really good breads and usually contained hard-boiled eggs, tomatoes, slices of green peppers, cucumbers, and sometimes cabbage for lettuce. Sometimes there were would be a fish salad type of concoction and on at least one occasion we got an Icelandic “specialty” which seemed to be some sort of paste made with sheep blood and flour rolled into a sort of jelly roll shape. That one we could not enjoy.
After lunch, a piece of fruit was offered either an apple (imported from New Zealand) or an orange (from Spain). Lunches were hearty fare and certainly gave us enough energy for the afternoon hikes. Only occasionally did we actually carry our lunches with us on a hike where Magnus could not meet us at a halfway point. After that wonderful lunch in the clear, sweet air, we walked along a mountain
escarpment where, in celebration of a thousand years of Christianity in Iceland, a display of art and photos was mounted, illustrating the Biblical virtues such as faith,
hope, charity and then the modern virtues which were arrived at by a recent poll of the Icelanders themselves. These included such things as industry, family, community.
There were mega-sculptures purportedly depicting both the ancient and modern virtues as well as photos of Icelanders involved in various activities like family outings, community celebrations, folks at work. The whole exhibition probably extended about half a mile along the mountain face. It was rather impressive and the people had taken it seriously since there were wooden walkways and stairways constructed along the route to permit close viewing and reading.
The weekend we arrived in Iceland, there were religious services in this area commemorating the arrival of Christianity. However, Iceland must be experiencing a lessening of church and religious influences because despite there being excellent weather, significantly fewer people attended than expected. At this point in the trip, there was not much attempt at interaction among the members of our group. Everyone hung diligently on Oskar’s every word, both in French and in English, but there was general shyness about trying to communicate with folks whose language was not English. The Canadian ladies stayed pretty much to themselves as well. Guess this is classic “primary tension.”
We then reboarded the bus to head for the Great Geysir and its surrounding thermal features hot pools, bubbling mud pots, and other smaller “spouters,” like Strokkur which erupts violently and frequently but not so dramatically high as the name-giver. This area is not nearly as extensive as Yellowstone, but it smelled just the same. There was not as much color here either. The pools were not the brilliant blues and blue-greens you see in Yellowstone nor were there as many colorful algae in the hot water run-offs. But all the noise, odor and spurting certainly told you that hot magma was very near the surface as it does in Yellowstone and New Zealand!
Our first night’s shelter was a real hotel, but not similar to anything we call hotels at home; it was more like a youth hostel. Our dinner was in the dining room of the hotel with family style seating for eight at each table. We had delicious potato soup, then tasty salmon, boiled new potatoes and slaw (this too would become quite
familiar).
Many of the French people slept in a large first floor recreation room with tables and chairs in the middle. Pallets had been laid down around the periphery for the sleeping bags. Kay and I ended up in a second story loft with about 20 other people, sleeping in little cubicles separated by partitions you could see over – open in the front.
There were a couple of single fluorescent strips to light the whole area, but since it didn’t get dark outside, it didn’t really matter. There were not enough shower and toilet facilities for a group our size, but we made do. Some of the folks started a practice that continued throughout the trek they went to the public sundlaug, a hot swimming pool. Every area we stayed in had its own facility, most of them with showers as well. However, this night, Kay and I used only the lavatories for a little spit bath because there was no way to get into the single shower in the hotel as the line was far too long. The steaming hot pool under gray skies and chilly winds did not look at all inviting, nor did the gang showers for changing into bathing suits.
So after the evening ablutions, we headed for the loft hoping that too many people crowded into a small space would not prevent a good night’s sleep. And sleep we did, with no problems at all. We were probably all grateful for the partitions, partial though they were, for the awkwardness among the group was still very much present. But we were beginning to separate in our minds those in the French group that seemed diffident due to language differences and those who seemed to be curiously hostile to the English group as a whole. We would ponder the meaning of the apparent dislike and try to overcome it.
Tuesday, July 4
GULLFOSS
We were quite early this morning in order to get to the toilets and sinks before the crowding started. I got my contact lenses in and then went back upstairs to roll the sleeping bags and pull all the gear back together for loading on the bus. This too would be an almost daily ritual. On a hiking trip, though, you need routines to keep
everything moving smoothly so that you don’t keep the group waiting.
Breakfast was in the same dining room and it was our usual fare. It was overcast and drippy as we left this first “camp” heading for Gullfoss, the Golden Waterfall. The ride was about an hour and it was still very foggy when we arrived but at least it was no longer dripping.
We were let off the bus above the gorge for our hour hike to the falls. It was a really fine walk along a deeply imbedded and narrow trail on the rim of the gorge with really spectacular views down into the 70 meter deep ravine. The falls were terrific but we had to fight the “eye and mouth” midges all the way. We were really wishing for our Alaska “head-nets.” The falls are in two levels and are quite wide and full. However, because of our cloudy skies, we saw no “gold” in the waters, even though we climbed the steep wooden stairs to the top of the cascade.
Then back on the bus for a ride across the highlands, the desert interior. This part of Iceland is pretty much uninhabited and it is easy to see why. Actually, only two people live in this area year-round a husband and wife weather station team. This is really raw, new land! No soil at all and just a pitiful few, very hardy plants pushing through the rocks.
The landscape is unbroken, flat, rocky desert except for the occasional huge glacial erratic boulder cutting into the line demarcating land and sky. There were long miles of this terrain with snow-topped mountains sporadically seen in the distance. The scenes reminded us of Patagonia in so many ways. The loneliness is palpable here (even more than in Argentina) because there is no wildlife at all. The only mammal native to Iceland is the Arctic Fox and he is wise enough NOT to live in these parts; besides there would be nothing for him to eat.
We stopped for a picnic at a summer campsite with toilets and a dorm type building. It was a very primitive place and we were relieved that this was not our stop for the night. Drove on after lunch through more of the same until we came to the “swimming pool” – a very tiny hot spring in a very small thermal area with much bubbling and several spitting “hissers” but no geysers. Way too many flies in the interior for comfort. A few of our group were brave or brazen enough to strip down and put on bathing suits and plunge in for a dip, but we just waited for them and
swatted flies.
SKAGAFJORDUR
Our next goal was the small town of Skagafjordur famed for its “hestasport” horse farms and horseback riding demonstrations with the Icelandic horse. What wonderful little animals they are too. Such sweet and intelligent faces, such stolid and solid little bodies with full manes and tails and hides of many colors from black to white with chestnuts, bays, palominos, and every shade in between. This little fellow is a direct descendant of the Viking horses brought over 1,100 years ago.
He is virtually unchanged because no other horse has ever been allowed on the island. Even today, if an Icelandic horse is shipped overseas for a show or any other purpose, he is never permitted to return to Iceland. With such restrictions, the breed is kept pure and alien equine diseases and parasites are never found among these horses. His diminutive build tempts outsiders to call him a “pony” because he is about Shetland size, but the horse-loving Icelanders bridle at that terminology and quickly correct your terminology.
Three wonderful young riders demonstrated the wonders of this terrific horse with his five natural gaits: the walk, the trot, the gallop, the tolt, and the flying pace. None of these have to be taught to the animal; they come in his genes. What a wonderful ride he offers, too. The gaits are so smooth, partly also because his legs move differently from other horses in that the legs on one side move in conjunction. When put into the faster gaits (the tolt and flying pace), he lifts his front legs quite high (like a hackney horse) and looks like a little wind-up toy he moves so fast.
It’s amazing to ride these gaits too because they are so much smoother than American saddle horses. We know this up close and personal because they arranged to hire horses for anyone who wanted to take an evening ride and several
of us started out about 9 PM (still broad open daylight with sunshine of course). Others in our group rode out at 10:30 PM and it was still bright.
The Icelanders are quite safety conscious so we had to wear helmets on the ride, but that was good since they did take us through all the paces and we were moving quite rapidly along. We forded a stream on horseback and the water came above the horses’ bellies so our boots got wet. They led us along grassy pathways where we got to “feel” for ourselves why these little horses are so popular! We are Icelandic horse fans forever!
Supper had come between the horse show and the horseback ride, so about 11:00 PM, we strolled over to the showers connected with the “sundlaug” and had the gang showers to ourselves. Our shelter for this night was the Steinstadtskoli (the Stein town elementary school).
There’s a wonderful practice in Iceland of turning the elementary schools into “summer hotels” since they are empty of children at that time and there is a great need for tourist accommodations. Five of us bunked in each classroom; Kay, Pat, Lynn and I were joined by an English-speaking French-Swiss lady, Rosemary. She had worked for the Swiss government in Havana, Washington, and New York, and had very good Spanish and English.
Through her we discovered that our “French” companions were not all from France. Some of them were French speaking Swiss including Rosemary and her two traveling companions. We slept in bunk beds and the room was quite nice (no one snored) and the lights blazed on outside. This night, I woke up about 1:30 AM and looked out in real amazement to see the sun still shining. Our internal clocks are all wrong so sleep is still somewhat fitful, which explains the waking up at 1:30 after having only gotten into bed about 12:00.
Footnote: Not much was made of the fact that today was American Independence Day, but Oskar did give Kay and me a candy bar each to celebrate. He made some little announcement about its being the 4th of July and the French folk politely clapped and we laughingly thanked them for sending Lafayette at the right time. We felt the “ice” beginning to melt among the group as people turned and smiled and some even revealed that they understood what we were saying!
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Wednesday, July 5
Regular breakfast at 8 and then we left for the Skagafjordur Folk Museum to visit a turf house. A Lutheran priest and farmer and his family were the latest to live here and they did so until 1947. The house was originally built in the early 1800s. The structure has turf walls and roof with timbers shoring everything up. There is a long corridor with many rooms coming off it, a few for living space, but most for storage of foods and other supplies, another few for “shops” where blacksmithing, weaving, churning, etc. could be carried on.
Folk Museum Turf House
The house was originally smaller but was added onto in the 1900s. There were many old implements and storage devices displayed in the appropriate rooms. The actual sleeping and sitting room functions were contained in one narrow chamber with built-in benches which served as the beds at night and the chairs or “sofas” during the day. Men were on one side and women on the other because the whole household, even hired hands, slept 2 to a bed to stay warm.
The windows were quite small and high and did not let in a great deal of light even though the day outside was bright with sun and brilliant with blue sky! No wonder the women wore their eyes out, what with sewing and weaving, and all the other close work they had to do. Couldn’t even imagine what the place must have looked and smelled like during the 6 months of darkness in winter. Peat and dung fires would have kept the rooms smoky and choking too. Candles could not have provided sufficient light for all the working going on. This house did not have electricity during the time it was actually lived in. A sobering thought knowing folks actually lived here until after WWII.
Our next adventure started in the small town harbor where we caught a little private vessel with an intensely loud engine to get out to Bird Island, Drangey
Island.
DRANGEY ISLAND
If only I had known that we would see plenty of puffins later, I would never have taken this outing. Even though we were warned that if we were afraid of heights we should not take this side trip, we did not understand what that actually meant. So we forged on and that’s when the terrors began.
I hated the loud and smoky ride out to the island and it took almost two hours to reach even though our teenaged pilot (under the captaincy of his grandfather) kept the motor at full throttle the whole way. We were going against a very strong ocean tide and it seemed the boat just couldn’t make any headway at all. The trip back took only a half hour, so it was true that the tides were very strong. Anyway, if only the boat had never made it all the way out!
The way to the top of this high chunk of rock sticking straight up out of the ocean was extremely steep, dry and sandy, and at its bottom were huge boulders on which to dash yourself if you slipped or fell. Normally, I am not afraid of heights at all; however this trail completely unnerved me because I knew that coming back down it was going to be a hundred times worse. Made it about two-thirds of the way up onto a plateau about 500 feet below the top and just decided that I couldn’t face having to climb even further down. So we sat for a while in the lovely grasses under the brilliant sky enjoying the colorful and comical puffins, the dramatic black and white kittiwakes, the ominous storm petrels, and predatory skuas! The cacophony at Bird Island would have to be experienced to be believed those myriads of birds are chattering and squawking constantly in their loudest vocalizations. You literally have to shout yourself to be heard over them.
After finishing our packed lunch, we began to pick our way back down with Kay encouraging me every step of the way to “just plant a foot and slide until the sand stops you; and it will.” On the few occasions I let myself look down at the sea, I was amazed at the clarity of the water! It was a breezy five degrees Centigrade (about 40 F). Anyhow, we made it down and even got across the boulder-chasm that had posed a barrier on the way up and made into the boat by ourselves.
We saw the French family with two young daughters on their way down and the young mother was obviously as unnerved as I had been. She was quietly crying. Kay left the boat and went to help the daughters manage the last boulders. Everyone got back safely. The “ice” began thawing even more as we all laughed and joked with relief about how scarey the experience had been!
The return boat trip was faster and much bumpier, but the relief at leaving that place was unqualified. Our bus met us 15 minutes later and we paid our captain 8000 Kronur for a trip that had caused me to contradict my own travel axiom (learned deep in the Copper Canyon in Mexico), “Never go anywhere that takes longer to reach than you want to stay!”
We joined those of the group who had been wise enough not to take the optional trip to Drangey and the bus traveled through a lovely long valley to Dalvik on a bay of the North Atlantic. The emerald green hillsides (low-growing mosses, grasses and ferns) embraced the many lovely and neat farms filling the valley through which ran a big, braided glacial river. Higher and darker snow-capped mountains marched away behind the colorful hills. This valley also contained some pockets of trees which the reforestation project had planted. They softened even further the harsh look of the land itself.
Our “summer hotel” for this night was a boarding school building. We were four to a room here, with two beds and two pallets for the sleeping bags. The toilet/shower facility was pretty close to the room we shared with Pat and Lynn so we got a wonderful shower.
Footnotes: 1. “Technical Stop” is a pause in the bus travel for the potty. Sometimes, it was in the wilds, but most often, it would be somewhere with real toilets or at least, an outhouse. 2. Found out tonight that we are supposed to help with the
dishes after breakfast and suppers. So groups of 4-5 are supposed to volunteer to
do the washing, drying and stacking in the appropriate containers. Kay did her first stint at this tonight. The rest of us all took turns too, several times, during the trip.
Thursday, July 6
AKUREYRI
We slept a little later today (since breakfast was not until 8:30) and then the bus pulled out at 9:15 to drive us to Akureyri, Iceland’s second-largest city at 16,000 souls.
It is a pleasant, bay-side town, not as a colorful as Reykjavik. However, it contains a large church designed by the Hallgrimskirkja architect. A very long series of steps leads up to the church which is at the highest point in the city. Finally, a Lutheran church in Iceland which has the ship model hanging prominently from the ceiling (every church we saw in Sweden and Denmark on an earlier trip contained the ship). This church was more ornate than the capital city version and it is much smaller as well. It had a wonderful pipe organ display as well, but that too was on a more modest scale.
We walked the pedestrian mall and did some shopping. Icelanders here were friendly and most spoke some English, since they deal with many tourists from Europe and English really is the lingua franca of today’s tourist world. Their familiarity with English is certainly not due to the fact that very many Americans vacation here; actually, the opposite is true very few US citizens visit Iceland. However, the UK sends its share as does Australia, but the majority of visitors are from France and Germany. They probably wondered what to do with us!
Speaking of Germany, there was another group from GJ Travel Service on the same route as ours. This was a group of 26 Germans. The trips were arranged so we crossed paths intermittently but not at every stop. Later, there will be more to come on this subject.
HÚSAVÍK
Leaving Akureyri, we drove around the south end of the bay and went up the other side to Húsavík for the whale-watching trip. Kay and I had had quite enough boat
travel at Drangey, thank you very much, plus we have whale-watched in several other places, so we opted not to join the others. Instead, we stayed in this fishing village and explore it on foot.
First we stopped for lunch at a seaside pub where we had a delicious lamb soup with veges. We next walked to the highest point we could find in this village to get some good views and pictures of the harbor and the houses below. We found a wonderful high hill empty of buildings. We started walking along a path and suddenly found ourselves the targets of some very energetic dive-bombing birds with actual strikes (luckily we had on our hats).
Turned out we had stumbled on an arctic tern nesting ground. They did not want us near their nests or babies. We tried to honor their wishes as we dodged and ducked. Some plovers were also nesting in the area and we saw many Sarah Bernhardt performances by the adults who limped and staggered away in front of us trying to entice us to go after them instead of their helpless chicks. The ruse certainly worked we didn’t eat a single baby plover. As we left the bluff, the terns crowed and boasted of their successes in routing the “invaders” off their turf. All got quiet again when we reached the bottom of the hill and exited from their view.
After our foray into bird-watching, we decided we deserved a dessert so we went back to the pub and had chocolate sundaes (just as good in Iceland as at home). However, sometime during our village wanderings, picture takings, or dessert eating, the ship returned to the harbor with all our group aboard and we didn’t see them disembark.
When we left the restaurant, we saw the docked boat but no sign of our travel companions and the bus was not parked where we had left it. So we began to wonder what we would do in that tiny village, abandoned by our tour leader, with no Icelandic language facility, very few Kronur, and no knowledge about where the group was heading next. While Kay waited on the harbor-side street to see if the bus would come back for us, I ran up the very steep hill to the main thoroughfare and looked frantically up and down, but no bus was in site.
But then I spotted a couple members of our group coming out of a pretty church which we had visited earlier. Thank goodness, I recognized them. I called Kay up
the steps to the main street and we followed the group members to find the bus. We never did let anyone know that we had temporarily felt abandoned.
Needless to say, every day was crammed with many activities because the light never fails! So you can tour, hike, sight-see, etc., all day and all night if your body can keep up the pace. Anyway, Oskar had another stop planned before we headed for our summer hotel for the night. We got out of the bus and walked along some high cliffs over the ocean for about 2 miles out and 2 miles back while we peered over the sides up and back along the walls to see the puffins nesting in their burrows in the walls and on the grassy ledges.
Again, the noise was tremendous and the view just overwhelming and the ocean was amazingly clear below us. Besides the puffins, we saw fulmars (which look like a gull variety) and storm petrels again as well as skuas, the last two being predators of puffin and fulmar chicks. Oskar told us that we were only 20 kilometers from the Arctic Circle at this spot.
It is difficult to describe the scenery we drove through today. Again we saw the low, very green hills, with far-spaced farms dotted over the land. All the fields have large white “stones” in them which are really round bales of hay covered in white plastic to prevent the dampness from ruining them. With a winter such as these folks must contend with, both in length and degree of coldness, the farmers need all the hay they can gather to feed their animals all those months.
We saw lots of cows, horses, sheep and pig barns along the way. Sheep are not as important to the Icelandic economy as in previous centuries because synthetic fabrics have in large part replaced the demand for wool the world over (we heard the same complaints in Australia last year). The byways, fields, and swales in this part of the country are filled with lush grasses and wildflowers at this time of year. Along the coasts of this high arctic island, the land is softer than in the harsh interior.
The mountains all around get rockier and barer the higher you look until finally you are looking at snowfields and glaciers. The skies are large, like North American big sky country in Montana and Saskatchewan. Clouds are usually present in the bright blue bowl, but they are often very different in configuration from those we are familiar with. We were pretty much fascinated by these wonderful and strange puffs floating in the heavens.
Our summer hotel this night is the Lundarskoli. An amenity this school offered was a “pub” in the basement where soft drinks and alcoholic beverages are sold along with sandwiches, chips, candy bars. We did get some Cokes on the two nights we stayed at this hotel.
We shared our classroom with a French family practitioner and a French Swiss youngster who has definitely developed a crush on Oskar! Francoise, the doctor, speaks English and is now beginning to try it out on us with greater confidence. She, her husband and son came to Iceland so that her husband could participate in a boat race with their son crewing for him and she could take this trip. The young “groupie” is okay but she has very little time for a bunch of older “broads” like Pat, Lynn, Kay and I.
Footnotes: 1) All hot water here smells like Yellowstone National Park. Cooler water is less smelly but often has a faint sulfur smell too. 2) We found an Icelandic brand of ice cream today with a most unappetizing name–Emmessis! We laughed and decided not to try it.
Friday,
July 7
JÖKULSÁ Á FJÖLLUM RIVER
On the bus today at 9 as usual after our 8 AM breakfast. We then drove to the second longest river in the country, Jökulsá á Fjöllum, and started on a hike along its scenic gorge. It was misting when we started so everyone got into their rain suits. Within less than an hour, the spitting stopped and the sky became that blinding blue again. The walls of this gorge are at least 200 feet above the river so it was quite dramatic as we hiked along, sometimes dipping into little pockets of shrubs and bushes and sometimes walking right along the canyon itself.
The rock that formed the canyon showed many strange layerings, uplifts and striations. The volcanic origin seemed pretty clear. There was a good amount of columnar basalt with the most fascinating little tubes and curlicues at the tops, looking like Corinthian toppings or Medusa hair in corkscrew patterns. As always,
we were accompanied all along the way by birds singing and the yellow and lavender wildflowers dancing in the sweet air around them.
Our picnic spot was high over the gray river filled with “glacial milk”. We enjoyed the lunch because the hike was a vigorous one and all of us were hungry and thirsty. By lunchtime, we had been hiking about 3 hours. Magnus met us coming towards the parking lot where the bus hunched in wait for us. He walked shirtless under the sun and blue sky. These Icelanders take their warm and sunny days to heart and enjoy them to the hilt with winters so long and dark.
Later on, during the after-lunch hike, we were shown the “Karl and Karling” rocks in the middle of the river eroded portions of old bluffs almost taken down by the floods. To the Icelanders, the rocks apparently look like a man and his wife. To us Americans, they looked more like a little cabin with an associated outhouse. We had to ford a little stream leading into the big river and we had to do it barefooted. It was so cold that our feet felt numb when we finished the crossing. The bottom was so stony and the current so swift and deep (up to knees) that I was grateful that my walking stick kept me upright. Several ladies fell in and were totally soaked.
JÖKULSÁRGLJÚFUR NATIONAL PARK
We made our way into Jökulsárgljúfur National Park and drove to Hljóðaklettar, Echo Rocks, a quite stony hike into an amphitheater-like canyon. Here were deep caves; the overhanging walls above them contained designs like dinosaur scapulae imbedded into the stone. We heard no echoes even when some of the French gals sang Frere Jacques. To further cement closer relations, Kay and I joined their song and started the round. There followed a lot of laughing and increased camaraderie. The hike back to the parking lot was actually hot. Magnus gave us some Tang to drink and some cookies, before the bus took us off to Asbyrgi, a horseshoe shaped canyon, which the sagas say was created by the hoof print of Odin’s 8-legged horse. That horse was definitely a whole lot bigger than the Icelandic horse if the size of the canyon was any indication of his overall stature. We walked down to a pond in the bottom of the hoof print at the base of the high walls forming the canyon. Lots of ducks were swimming across the clear
green waters, supposedly the remnants of a waterfall plunge pool from long ago.
Then we climbed to a ledge halfway up the walls, so that we could look down and get an over-view of the formation.
After that final hike of the day, we returned to our “skoli” hotel for a coke and a read in the comfortable chairs in the basement pub. After supper at 7 PM, we walked down the road to the town sundlaug for a shower which felt really terrific, especially since we were the only folks in the gang shower. Washed out a few clothes as well. Then borrowed Pat’s hairdryer so that my hair would not be wet when we joined everybody for the 9:30 dessert. So now it’s dry, but it looks like a haystack!
Saturday,
July 8
MAGNIFICENT FALLS & VOLCANOS
Left our lovely 2-night stay hotel at the usual hour after the usual breakfast. Kay and I started washing the breakfast dishes and Pat and Lynn joined us. Getting to the bus late meant sitting in a different seat, but that really didn’t matter to us. Some folks did get a little huffy when they found their usual seat occupied by someone else.
Our goal this morning was an area with three of Iceland’s most significant waterfalls to explore and hike around. The falls are part of the mighty Jökulsá á Fjöllum, the Jokull River. One of the special things about the area is that no “improvements” have been made in the area: no wooden walkways, no established trails, no viewing platforms. We had perfect weather for the walk.
Dettifloss
First we visited Selfoss, the second largest of the three and we were impressed. But then we hiked around to Dettifoss, the largest waterfall in Europe in terms of water volume and it was stunning. And to top it off, there was a double rainbow over the plunge pool. We walked on further to the third falls, Hafragilsfoss, which was considerably smaller than the first two but still a beautiful sight and sound.
Then we scrambled over the boulders and made our way down in the direction of the thunderous water sounds. There were people taking naps in the grassy areas around the two closer falls and many others climbing around to get the best possible pictures. We were certainly not the only group there and we also saw many Icelanders sightseeing in their own country. And quite a sight this place is all part of the same national park that holds Asbrygi and the Echo Rocks.
For lunch today, we stopped in an enormous horseshoe-shaped crater of an extinct volcano. The park where we lunched was flat and contained short dry grasses. The whole area was probably 300 feet by 300 feet. The walls of the crater rose around us for about 270 degrees of the circle and to a height of about 150 feet.
After our wonderful lunch, we climbed the crater walls with one of the French girls, Cecile, a 23-year-old university student with very good English skills. She was most anxious to learn American slang and for the rest of the trip she and Kay took great pleasure in sharing expressions like, “get it off your chest,” “egg on your face,” “hold your horses,” “right on the nose,” and many more. Cecile was delightful; she and her younger cousin, Nicolas, were traveling with his mother. Nicolas was interested in a geology career and was the one who suggested a hiking trip to Iceland. He ran around checking out rocks the whole trip and seemed totally elated with all his finds. These two young people were further catalysts to our friendships with the Austrians.
When we reached the top of the crater walls, by very steep climbing among rocks on no established trail, we looked out and viewed the extreme emptiness of the surrounding countryside. There was virtually nothing on the horizon in this isolated
place and the crater was definitely the most distinctive feature for miles and miles around.
A further drive in the bus brought us to a geothermal electrical generating plant, built up on a volcanic hillside with a crater adjacent to it. It was rather space-age looking but the Icelanders have been using their geothermic energy for many years. In this particular plant, holes were bored down into the earth 2-3 kilometers to reach the steam coming off the hot magma that close to the surface. The steam is then run through piping into the turbines that produce the electricity (about 60 megawatts at this plant). Safety valve chimneys continuously blast with ferocious noise and clouds of steam rising high into the air. All around this plant are smoking crevices, fumaroles, bubbling mud pots. It is rather eerie to be walking around in this real hot spot.
As a way of illustrating how cheap electricity is in Iceland, Oskar told us that an Australian aluminum factory was moved here even though the materials for production are mined in Australia. Aluminum production is extremely energy intensive. So it was actually more cost-effective to build a plant and ship the raw materials to Iceland for production than to manufacture the product at home.
Next, Oskar ran us up the neighboring crater where, in the 1970s, many eruptions had occurred. The ash covered much of this area (so we were looking at even newer land) and the blast blew out some pretty impressive chimneys. From the top
of the crater, we could look out and see other active cones and shields. Then we came down off the crater sides and struck out across the tussocks, hopping from one to another like kids for quite a while.
At last, we reached the lava fields that were to be the site for the afternoon’s serious hike. Talk about another bizarre and otherworldly place the lava field with its miles of ropy, black, sharp, but easily broken material is it! What’s even stranger is the fact that the lava flow just abruptly stops in the meadow where the tussocks grow. Though it does break easily at the edges and form very pointed shards, it is easier to walk on than the big boulders we’ve been thinking were typical of all Icelandic hikes. Some of the flow is black and shiny like obsidian but most of it has a more matte-like finish. We walked around in this odd place for about three hours, even entering a still smoking crater with strong sulfide odor and hot rocks everywhere with yellow “dust” on them. Our weather has been so beautiful all day that no one, not even Oskar, can believe our good fortune so far.
Next, we were driven to an ancient sulfur mine in a geothermal area. Danish kings had sent miners over to extract this material for gunpowder since the 1400s. The site had lots of fumaroles and bubbling mud-pots but no geysers. We were turned loose to explore these features for another hour. Somehow the Icelandic thermal areas look more forbidding and barren than those in Yellowstone and even New Zealand and I think it’s because forests and tree-covered mountains do not surround them. Instead, there are just bare bluffs and rocky earth all around.
The last event for the day was a stop in the tourist part of the town we are staying in tonight so that folks could buy snacks, make phone calls, get stamps, and mail letters. Got some snack food for tomorrow since we are to climb another crater this one higher and hotter than today’s.
We are staying tonight in the Lake Myvatn (pronounced “Mitch”) area and are in double rooms in trailers like Cold Foot, Alaska, except there are no private potties or showers here. We are here for two nights, which is nice since we’re free from packing everything up for at least one day.
Sunday, July 9
HVERFJALL
Breakfast and departure as usual again today. Oskar started us off with a “leg stretcher” of a couple of miles in a sunken magma lake, preparatory to climbing the volcano crater he has in mind. We began about 9:30 AM and walked among some bizarre shapes which erosion has created of the lava. There were chutes, chimneys, spires, even formations such as the “church” which actually looked like an archway into a church building. We saw a “keyhole” formation in a larger remnant of lava. This whole area was created by a magma lake’s collapse leaving hoodoos and these other weird shapes. Next, we walked about 2 kilometers to the trailhead at the bottom of the Hverfjall crater cone.
It was about 150 meters to the top via a switch-backed but still very steep and sandy trail that required some care so that you did not keep slipping back down. The whole climb was up an exposed ridge in the rather intense sun so heat was a factor in the climb. All in all, it was pretty arduous and it took about 30 minutes to reach the very windblown summit for the beautiful views in all 360 degrees. There were actually some trees, low hills, Lake Myvatn, rivers and little towns and farms to
couple members of our group coming out of a pretty church which we had visited earlier. Thank goodness, I recognized them. I called Kay up the steps to the main street and we followed the group members to find the bus. We never did let anyone know that we had temporarily felt abandoned. Then we walked halfway round the crater and down to where we thought the bus would be waiting. Surprise! We had to hike back to the cabins, about two miles through another big lava field, older than the one we had hiked in before, but still filled with sharp edges and pointed spears of rock that made the walking somewhat treacherous. Though we all made it all the way, one of the French ladies fell and sustained a couple of superficial puncture wounds in her abdomen and some abrasions on her arms where she tried to catch herself. She seemed to be in shock for a little while but Francoise leapt to her care and she rallied sufficiently to continue the walk on back to the cabins. Kay lent a hand and thereby, for the first time, declared her credentials as a doctor.
Lunch was a rice pudding with raisins and a typical Icelandic “treat” a blood, flour, and fat creation with either sheep or pigs supplying the hemoglobin. We didn’t care for it, even before they told us the ingredients. However, we could understand how it could help the Icelanders through the bitter cold of winter when food is often scarce and, in earlier times, when famine stalked both men and animals.
LAKE MYVATN
Lake Myvatn was our next destination for a walk to see the 16 varieties of ducks that nest in and near the waters during the summers. We actually saw only 3 types, including the Barrow’s Goldeneye.
The walk was really an easy stroll in tennis shoes, rather than a hike in boots with gear. The lake is very shallow and black flies and midges breed here freely, making the walk potentially not very enjoyable from that standpoint. We were lucky this evening because they were not out in force and none of those present were of the biting variety. Anyway, because these insects are the bottom of a very important food chain for Iceland, they are tolerated with humor and good will. All the fish and ducks are dependent on these “pests” so guess they aren’t really pests after all.
We learned that the lake is the world’s richest source for diatom harvesting. These little critters fall to the bottom of the lake when they die, and their remains pile up to many feet deep. These leavings are used in filtering systems, such as diatomaceous pool filters, and other water type filters all over the world. A very important economic resource for Iceland.
After this activity, we were driving to yet another hot swimming pool; these Europeans are mad for swimming. They’ll jump into their suits at a moment’s notice and head off for the steaming waters. Kay, Pat and I were not going swimming today so we went to a very interesting local museum containing a good geology exhibit and another on the ecology of the area. Then we walked to the village for an ice cream and a Coke.
Because Oskar definitely didn’t believe in resting after eating, we were off to the fond-du-lac (foot of the lake) of Lake Myvatn to walk among the “pseudo-craters” at lakeside. It was quite cold and a stiff wind was blowing us all into chilblains; Oskar’s cure for that was not cutting the trip short but with more exercise!
These craters were interesting for the way in which they were formed. When fresh magma poured over watery expanses, the waters steamed and burst through the magma creating a crater-appearing formation, but no lava actually ever erupted through this “crater.” Therefore, these cones are called “pseudo” because they are not really craters at all. All very interesting, except that we were freezing and it was hard to stand gazing into the great maws while Oskar explained to us about hot magma and steam.
Tonight we had a very nice conversation with young Nicolas about his future schooling, his daily life, how he learned English so well, where he might like to travel in future. He’s a fine young man to all appearances and has a bright future. Afterward, we headed for the wonderful showers (private stalls and all) and then to bed. Another really full day!
Monday, July 10
GOÐAFOSS - WATERFALL OF THE GODS
Same time, same breakfast, same departure. Today is a tennis shoe day, according to Oskar. We stopped pretty quickly today at a freshwater salmon river, the Laxá, to see loons and other ducks. Oskar laughingly confirmed what we had already suspected, the Icelanders are not very imaginative in their place names. For instance, there are many rivers in the country which are called “salmon” because the fish spawn there. The wonderful Dettifoss is a word that means “falling waters;” isn’t that really just another way of saying waterfall?
At this salmon river, we saw a fellow fly-casting very prettily and the light playing on the waters and his line was quite picturesque. We saw a loon mother with her chick on her back. Saw many other nameless ducks, as well as whimbrels and plovers. The whimbrel can be called the Icelandic National Bird with justification because they are everywhere.
Next, we drove a long way to see the magnificent Waterfall of the Gods another powerful cascade in Iceland’s waterfall panoply. This one received its name for an early Parliamentary compromise that saved the Icelandic republic from religious wars. When Christianity became the state religion in the very early times of settlement, many pagan peoples were reluctant to give up their Norse gods and goddesses. Controversy and confrontation seemed inevitable over this knotty problem. At the time, a very wise man, Thorgeir Thorkelsson, happened to be LawSpeaker.
After a night’s sleep under his cloak, he proposed a compromise that was readily accepted and averted that potential disaster. His proposal involved each Icelander consenting to be baptized in the Christian manner but that each be allowed to keep whatever pagan traditions he wished to keep. As a show that he had decided on Christianity himself, he threw all his household statues of the pagan gods into this waterfall thus its name.
This was a pretty wild setting even though the Ring Road around the periphery of the island is very near it. There were huge lava formations, grand river gorges, and great crashing waters.
Sprengisandur
Then it was off for a long ride through the magnificent Sprengisandur the high desert interior where the roads are gravel and there are streams and rivers to ford. This was rather exciting at times since the waters can run pretty swift and deep. But Magnus is a wonderful and very experienced driver (something like 30 years driving the island) so we were in excellent hands.
Car fording a river
We stopped for a lunch at a typically barren place that was no different from all the other emptiness around us, behind and before us. Oskar often used these longer rides as occasions to tell us stories from the Icelandic sagas thoroughly enjoyable, highly adventurous, full of amorous stories, revenge tales, supernatural interventions in human events, swashbuckling sword play, and bloody warfare. He recommended a couple of the sagas for private reading and we bought them to enjoy here at home.
He also used the bus rides for sharing information about the country’s non-saga history, its social fabric, and its unique genealogy. All current native born Icelanders are descendants of 38,000 survivors of the great famine of the late 1700s caused by huge volcanic eruptions which blanketed the earth, killed many plants, animals and people, and then plunged Iceland into a sort of mini-nuclear winter thereby causing devastating famine.
Many people emigrated at that time to Europe (primarily Denmark and the UK) and to the United States to escape the human and ecological disaster. So this event was like Ireland’s great Potato Famine. There were other unhappy circumstances, such as the other European nations’ inability or unwillingness to help the starving Icelanders. Even Denmark, which ostensibly ruled Iceland at that time, ignored the plight of its people. Icelanders were so poor they did not even own the shipping vessels which carried their products to Denmark. The Danes who owned them did not send them to relieve the famine.
Map of Sprengisandur
We continued driving the many miles through the vast and barren hillsides without growth or life of any kind, just snow, rocks and gravel. We reached one river that was a little trickier than the others, so Magnus studied it a while. A couple of cars reached the area while Magnus was checking things out and he helped them get across. We waited for the cooking bus and for the sister tour of Germans that had been crisscrossing our path all through the trip to help those drivers as well. Very soon after this last ford, we came to our very Spartan night’s accommodation, the Dreki Hut, the only possible place for miles around. This really is wilderness.
The largest building was a summer hut with bunk-beds on the lower floor and a loft on the second story. To the side was a smaller bunkhouse. There was a bathroom shed with 3 toilets for the men and three for the women and two washbasins with really cold water on the outside wall of that facility.
Nearby, there was a new A- shape cottage being built consisting of four rooms and a wraparound porch. The rooms in this cottage were all locked up and unavailable to us.
Before dinner that night, Oskar ran us up a couple of mountains for exercise. Actually the hike was exhilarating since once the top of the highest peak was reached, the views were stunning and we could see even more of the great “desert.” Our little “encampment” area looked lonely indeed from that elevation. The hike took us through snow so we got do some slipping, sliding, and playing on the way down. Again, the walking sticks are just the thing for all this hiking up and down in rocky and slippery terrain.
There was yet another activity to get through before bedtime – the promised
“Festival of the Summer Hut.”
Apparently this is a tradition on Icelandic holidays. When you stay at a remote summer camp like this one, everyone gets together for songs and jokes and whatever will pass through the language barriers. Actually, our “festival” was more interesting than entertaining, but well worth remembering.
We had all been forewarned and had prepared songs to sing typical of our respective countries.
At the camp that night were the following: the Icelandic guides, drivers, and cooks for the tour groups, the previously mentioned German tourists on the same type of tour as ours, and our busload of French, French-speaking Swiss, Canadians and US citizens.
We all assembled in the large sleeping hut on the first floor. There was a center aisle about eight feet wide and thirty feet long. Three long wooden tables ran the length of the hall. On either side of the middle aisle were the bunk platforms –three tiers high. Each platform was big enough to hold four to six sleepers.
The Germans were on the first level on the left and the French were arrayed on the platforms above – their faces peering over the edges onto the festivities below. Kay and I and the Canadians sat at the wooden tables on attached benches.
Magnus was our jovial emcee and he started us off with a long shaggy dog story (in English) about a trained grasshopper. There was much laughter even though I’m sure at least half the crowd did not understand what he was saying. However, he did a lot of mugging and gesturing and charades.
Then the Icelandic tour personnel got up and sang Icelandic folk and popular songs. They were very good – harmony and everything.
Next the French young folk and a couple of older ones were the bravest and got up to sing a few songs; some were familiar to us but most were not. The French speaking Swiss were highly reluctant but finally gave in. The Icelandic choir got up again and sang a few more ditties with spirit and pride. Then Magnus went into
another little “shtick” about a golf lesson in English and got lots more laughs. Smiles rained down from the platforms above.
Next, Pat and Lynn got up and sang a couple of familiar Canadian songs. Then Kay and I rendered our own particular versions of, “Yankee Doodle” (which everyone seemed to recognize), “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” (no one seemed to know this one), “Dixie” (relatively unfamiliar) and finally, “Deep in the Heart of Texas” (which everybody knew and joined in!). We were warmly applauded.
Up to that point, the atmosphere had been gay and relaxed; everyone was goodnatured and more than willing to be indulgent of bad singing and forgotten lyrics.
But then it happened.
Magnus turned to the Germans and asked them to sing. They looked very uncomfortable and politely demurred. But Magnus would not take “no” for an answer and prodded them further. Finally they relented and broke out in a quiet folksong.
The room froze. Gleeful French faces gazing down from platform perches turned to stone. A woman’s face right above me contorted in what I could only interpret as hate – never having seen such a look before. One second before the first strains of the German’s song, there had been laughter and warm-heartedness in that vacation sleeping hut. One second after the first Teutonic phrase, the past crashed onto the assemblage and the room transformed before my eyes into a prison camp hut. Fifty-five years of European peace was ripped away.
The grandchildren of the combatants met again and the old hatreds of WWII showed in the faces of the elders.
The young faces hanging above me were still smiling giving hope for the future. The “festival” ended shortly thereafter.
The Germans quickly finished their song; Magnus declined to ask for more. Everyone in the room regained the ability to breathe and move again. The Germans retired for the night to the smaller hut; the French divided up – some to remain in their sleeping bags on the platforms – others to go up into the loft.
Kay and I escaped outside into the streaming light and cold brisk wind to spend a
night out in the Springesander for after realizing that we had been assigned to sleep in the cramped loft with an unknown number of snorers and sweaty smelly boots, Kay and I opted to sleep outdoors.
Earlier in the evening, we had grabbed two pallets from the loft and run over to the porch of the new cottage to establish our sleeping quarters there. Actually we were quite comfortable as it turned out: the sleeping bags were plenty warm; we were protected from the wind on three sides and partially shielded on the fourth.
It took a while to get to sleep as we mulled over what we had observed. I was assured by Kay that it hadn’t all been in my imagination. She too had seen the transformation in the room when German voices had been raised in song. How sheltered we American children of our generation had been during those terrible times in Europe. We were saddened by the lingering pall of anger we had seen tonight and relieved to know we had escaped that legacy.
Oskar found us in the morning and couldn’t believe we’d slept outside. Thereafter, he referred to us as his Viking Women.
Tuesday, July 11 LONG DRIVE TO HEKLA
It wasn’t hard to get ready to leave this morning. We were already dressed as we had slept in all our clothes. Just had to put the boots on, roll the sleeping bags and liners, and bring the pallets back to the bunkhouse loft. Breakfast was very speedy and we were “on the road again.”
It was a long day’s drive through more of the same scenery, but it was not monotonous because it is so stupendous, surprising, and spectacular. The unrelieved bleakness and solitude made us quite ready for the Icelandic ghost stories Oskar spun during this leg of our journey – often with those ironic twists he says the Icelanders love. We stopped a couple time for “technicals” and leg stretchers, but since it was raining and cold, the stops were brief.
We did climb one hill with a memorial cairn (for a modern tragic and ironical love story) at the top and up a second for the view. But when it came time for the twohour walk in the rain, a few of us opted out. So we sat in the bus and chatted. When
the walkers returned, they agreed with Oskar that it had been a boring and unrewarding hike in the cold and wet. So we were vindicated in our choice to be lazy and wimpy!
It was a long day’s drive from the summer mountain hut to Hekla where we would stay for the next three nights! And it continued to be rainy, cloudy, and cold all day long. This is a cabin for four with two bunk-beds. Lynn and Kay took the top bunks since Pat and I are the shortest, but they had quite a time getting in and out of bed and dreaded any “night calls.” Of course, the toilet and showers (private stalls again but only two for a huge and very full campground and cabin assemblage) were about half a block away from our little cabin. This place had one of our nicest eating facilities also it was located in a separate and large open air building. Supper was really good again tonight and it was agreeable to sit and talk with our North American friends. Later everybody headed for the pool or the showers. Then, at 9:15, it was time for bed, a good read, and finishing the diary. At 9:30, Pat announced, “My gosh, it’s snowing! July 11, and it’s snowing!” We all piled out of bed and ran outside to be certain. What we were immediately certain of was that it was very cold. So back to bed.
Wednesday, July 12 MOUNT HEKLA
At least it wasn’t still snowing this morning, but it was raining – and hard! So we had breakfast and took off for a long ride, hoping that it would be clear at the destination. Just in case we had all our rain-gear with us on the bus. At first we drove through lovely farm country where some of June’s earthquake damage was obvious. The terrain was strange as there were lush looking farms next to lava fields with so many stones and lava crags that no one could plow it.
Then we rode into Mt. Hekla’s shadow. Iceland’s currently most active volcano surely demonstrated here that its reputation as a destroyer and creator is well deserved. The ash and lava create more land and lay the groundwork for soil, but they also destroy farms, homes, animals, people, and then bury the soil. All around this area are thousands of feet of piled-up ash, weird volcanic lava shapes, bare mountain
slopes and black ash blocks and pieces. Then suddenly, you drive into the exact opposite of that volcanic wasteland and are in a spectacularly lovely long valley with moss-covered hillsides, wide valleys, sparklingly clear rivers and streams, widely different colors in the bluffs and exposed rocks in rhyolite, yellows, oranges, greens and grays.
Our hike here was excellent, not too strenuous, but visually very rewarding. Our lunch was outside in all that splendor. We started the hike in rain-suits which were definitely needed but it gradually cleared and we striped to short sleeves. We have become a cohesive and friendly group now, with much teasing and laughing. There are some who do not join in, but we figure it’s because their English isn’t up to it and certainly our French would never permit any interplay. Thank goodness, Oskar is articulate and entertaining in both languages. When he gets very tired, he sometimes draws blanks (mostly when he’s speaking French) and sometimes he just can’t stand the internal and constant translating and resorts to ignoring us all and talking Icelandic to Magnus.
Thursday,
July 13
THÓRSMÖRK NATURE PRESERVE
Morning as usual in every way. The trip to Thórsmörk took two hours. The area has been designated a nature preserve so there’s no grazing, farming, haying, or other human activity except for recreation: hiking, camping, picnicking, etc. It’s another long valley surrounded on three sides by green, green, huge bluffs with water constantly cascading down their colorful faces. It reminded us here very much of New Zealand with the same sort of valleys. Magnus drove along in what appeared to be braided riverbeds.
Around 10:30, he stopped and let us out to cross the streams on our own until we got on a footbridge which took us up and over a faster, deeper stream. Then we had a little “up and down” in the copses lining the river until we reached the campsite area with potties. After everyone availed himself/herself of the facilities, we headed off on our real hike. Up, up, up and over a saddle and into a long and interesting gorge with many dizzying views of huge chasms, braided rivers in the distance, snow covered peaks, and the ever-present “green fronts.”
This landscape looked as if Odin and his 8-footed horse had galloped and dashed over it as well, leaving overturned rocks, deep footprints turned into pools and lakes, fracturing stones into gravel. The hiking was not particularly easy since it was “roller-coastery” and often on very narrow trails with steep and deep fall-aways. Some slipping and sliding was inevitable and the ups were pretty “puffy” and downs often gut-wrenching.
Lunch was about 12:30 and the sandwiches we were carrying with us were pretty delicious and welcome. Sat about 30 minutes and then proceeded directly up again behind our 4-legged Frenchmen (using two sticks each one fellow was amazing, in his 70s and he went everywhere to the top of everything at breakneck speed; the other fellow was in his 40s but went right along with the “mountain goat”).
This was a half mile of really rocky hike that crossed several small rivulets on the way to a hidden waterfall inside yet another much smaller side gorge. We had to ford so often that my boots finally gave up and leaked. The hike was short and the falls were pretty special since the water fell inside a tight rocky area and it looked as though you were looking up a shaft and seeing light and water plunging through it as though you were looking at the whole world.
Following that adventure, we piled into the bus again and rode to a glacier lake for a brief walk around it for pictures. Actually, I think Magnus just wanted us off the bus when he forded the river emerging from the lake as we crossed over on a footbridge. We got to our cabins at 7 PM. Because of our late arrival home, supper was set for 8 and all of us were able to get showers before eating. That certainly made dinner more pleasant for everyone.
There were after dinner speeches all around about how much we had enjoyed the trip and each other’s company. Kay spoke for the “English-speaking” quartet and thanked the French for their hospitality and Oskar for his fluency!
The funny Frenchman who was always full of wise-cracks in both languages (once he admitted to knowing English) thanked all his fellow travelers and Oskar, Magnus and the cooking team. Stefan and Collette’s daughters, Sarah and Mathilde, presented Oskar the gratuities we had all collected for him, Magnus and the wonderful cook crew. We stayed for Racka’s special pancakes at 10 and we all exchanged names and addresses, e-mail and snail mail, and then it was off to bed because we must hike again tomorrow.
Friday, July 14
BACK TO REYKJAVIK
Everything as usual again this AM except that we had to say goodbye to Racka, Halli, and Selena. They were good company as well as good cooks (see the Appendix on the evening meals). We left for the seacoast at 9 AM and visited little fishing villages that have turned into bedroom suburbs for Reykjavik in modern times. Also got a good look at Mt. Hekla in all its unclouded glory; could even see the ever-present steam plume rising out of its crater.
We drove to a lighthouse and then started our long hike along the most peculiar
Icelandic beaches. These shores are unlike any we have ever seen before. First, you walk through level grassy areas filled with arctic terns screeching at you, then you reach rubbly stones and cross that terrain, then you come to grassy tussocks that you must simultaneously hop top to top while avoiding falling into holes where there are hidden nests both occupied and abandoned, then you reach flat lava pavers pocked with holes full of seawater, but finally you realize that you are never going to reach the ocean’s edge. There are deep tidal pools between you and the apparent shoreline and though the lava looks like paving stones, the “sheets” of lava are discontinuous and you cannot make straight enough progress to ever reach the sea before a big pool interrupts. The lava is as sharp as coral so you have to be very careful in your footing. So you content yourself with looking in the direction of the white foam spray in the distance.
The shore was interesting also because of all the bird life we saw; many babies were still in their nests, especially the fat arctic tern chicks who look bigger than their parents because of all their down. They are raucous and demanding constantly but ever so cute and appealing. No wonder their parents can’t resist them. There were also different flowers and plants along the seafront as well different from what we had seen in the interior and in the mountainous areas. We fossicked along and picked up shells and driftwood. What a beautiful day we had too. No clouds in these skies and the water sparkled and danced tantalizingly before our eyes. The sea color was a deep cobalt blue and it looked cold!
Back on the bus, we were taken to “Herdy-Gerdy,” as close I can come to the name of the greenhouse center for Iceland. This is a lovely, fairly temperate part of the coast, and there are many greenhouses heated with the thermal waters to grow some vegetables for the country; tomatoes, cucumbers, houseplants, and cabbages are the main products of this area.
The greenhouses can lengthen the growing season somewhat but it’s hard to overcome 6 months of darkness. According to Oskar, despite the legends, no bananas or citrus fruits are grown in Iceland even in the greenhouses. We went out of the city limits to have our last G-J picnic as usual beside a stream and surrounded by smoking hills mini-volcanoes? There is so much smoking, hissing, breathing land in Iceland; it’s a little spooky. Back into the little town, we went to the
Eden Store that was a wonderful plant store, souvenir shop, eatery, ice cream parlor combination. We bought lots of souvenirs here.
On the way into the Reykjavik, Oskar pointed out the federal prison. He said it is a low security facility since there is very little crime in Iceland. He said that the ironic Icelanders have a saying about the prison, “The stupid convicts climb over the fences and the smart ones just walk out of the front gate!” Of course, then the big problem is how to get off the island. The water’s too cold to swim and besides where would you swim to; everywhere else is too far away. There’s only a one international airport and the authorities would just wait for you there. So the truth is, the escapee’s real problem is not getting out of the prison, but off “prison Iceland.” Oskar said the escapees usually just go home so the police wait there until they’ve visited with family and then take them back to the prison.
As he said goodbye to us all, he thanked us for being a cohesive and cooperative group, all fit and eager to do the planned hikes. He called us North Americans, his “spice girls” and said he had really enjoyed this international group.
We got back to the G-J Guest House in Reykjavik at mid-afternoon and got our assigned room, changed clothes and headed straight into town. Bought some more presents and also some reading materials recommended by Oskar, including the novel by the 1955 Icelandic Nobelist, Haldor Laxness, “Independent People.”
We sat by the Town Pond again and watched the ducks and the people and then hunger took us back to the nice restaurant where we had started this whole wonderful experience. The dinner was gourmet delicious and quite attractive in presentation as well. We drank water until we popped and could not hold a dessert at all. We had both been refraining from drinking all we might want due to the riding and hiking distances. Kay had lobster tails and I had grilled trout. It was so good to sit and be waited on as well and to know that we had real beds and private showers and toilets waiting for us back at the Guest House. Our last full day in Iceland was another winner!
Saturday, July 15
HOMEWARD BOUND
Slept until 8 this morning and woke to find that our good luck with Iceland’s weather had vanished or rather been blown away. The weather was really horrible. Driving rains and blasting winds. So glad we didn’t have to hike today. Went down for our free breakfast at the Guest House and, of course, it was the usual fare.
We decided to walk to the enclosed shopping mall about a mile from our place. It took about 20 minutes to walk it because we were pushing against the strongest headwind we had ever felt.
The tri-level Kringlan Mall had mainly Icelandic stores, but there were some familiar European and American names as well, like Hugo Boss and DKNY. The mall is modern and contains a food court with McDonald’s and Subway, but it was too early for either to be open for business.
We wandered about window wishing for a couple hours and then started back so we could catch the bus that G-J was providing the take us to the airport (the airport motor-coach driver strike was still on). Stopped along the way at the Hotel Reykjavik to see what a more upscale tourist facility would look like and to warm up as we were thoroughly chilled from our walk in the rain, wind and cold. We enjoyed their comfortable lobby for a bit.
We had to leave our room at the Guest House by 1 PM so we waited in the lobby for the bus. Got to Keflavik at 3 PM where we shared a hamburger with French fries and a tiny pepperoni pizza because the very American looking airport facilities fooled us into thinking we were at home. Actually, they weren’t totally authentic but they tasted pretty darned good, especially the ketchup.
Weather conditions obviously do not matter to Icelandair because even though the weather deteriorated steadily, we kept hearing the flights take off. So despite awful weather, howling winds, dashing monsoon rains and nearly zero visibility, our flight also took off in timely fashion and landed in Baltimore on time. Flight home took about 6 hours and we had very little time between arrival and departure for Jacksonville on the Metrojet.
ADDENDUMS
The sun actually did go down for about two hours, but the sky was never dark so we saw no night skies or auroras. Oskar said we drove 2130 kilometers around the island country and hiked about 50 miles.
Evening Meals: All delicious – served buffet style by the wonderful staff.
Salmon, boiled potatoes in skins, slaw. potato soup, and water.
Haddock cakes, boiled potatoes in skins, slaw, & skyr for dessert.
Lamb Schnitzel, boiled potatoes in skins, cold canned English peas, slaw, ice cream topped with canned fruit cocktail
Lamb short ribs, boiled yellow turnips (rutabagas to me), lamb soup, boiled potatoes in skins, chocolate cake
Fried haddock, boiled potatoes in skins, slaw with mayo dressing, potato soup, and waffles with whipped cream for dessert
Spaghetti sauce with chopped meat (probably lamb) and rice rather than pasta, slaw, bread, hot berry soup (the spaghetti was like our creamed tomato soup on toast)
Hot chocolate soup with hard dry toast, potato salad, fish with onions and tomatoes, brown bread, tartar sauce and French dressing
Mutton meatballs, boiled potatoes, peas, red cabbage, asparagus soup
Fried fish, boiled potatoes in skins, cold corn kernels, slaw with apples and oranges pieces, and blueberry soup for dessert
Smoked lamb, rutabagas, boiled potatoes in skin, white cream sauce, pancakes with sugar and strawberry jam
Salmon, boiled potatoes in skin, tomatoes, cucumbers, fruit (canned) in cream sauce, with pancakes and whipped cream for dessert.
