Hornvik – Fox-filled Wonderland

hornvik

We made our way to the dock and met Josh (fellow monitoring volunteer) and Ester (director of the Artcic Fox Center) loading enough food and gear to invade Russia. We helped haul it aboard and were on our way to Hornstrandir! It was another beautiful day. We felt bad about their drought, but were praying it kept going for another several days.

En route we saw another minke whale! We took it as a good omen for wildlife viewing. We were landed by zodiac on the rock strew beach at the base of a 30 foot, 70 degree incline up to our campsite. We hauled all the food (so much food) and gear up to our camping place. Icelanders are very hearty eaters – we have been defeated by their portion sizes (unbelievable, I know) on several occasions. I concede that a day spent rowing to Ireland to raid coastal villages and capture treasure from monasteries probably works up an appetite, but we with our less challenging schedule couldn’t begin to absorb that many calories. Even in light of the typical Icelandic meal our provisions seemed wildly excessive. We were devastated to see them in any case, as we had been originally set to go out to Hestur on our own and had been told to equip and provision ourselves for that. We had packed and carried all our food and supplies (including the wretched stove that everyone is sick of hearing me carry on about) over the entire country. All I knew is that not a single packet of that oatmeal was going back to America in my bags.

our camp in hornvik

After we hauled everything up to our camping plateau, Ester gave us the grand tour. She suggested a “short-cut” straight up the cliff side as a time saver as she had to catch the ferry back at 5PM. So we gamely followed her bushwhacking through the Arctic jungle. With 24 hours of sunlight the plant-life goes nuts, so it was jungle-ish with butter cups up to mid-thigh and your boots hopelessly tangled in dandelions. Ester is also quite expert in botany and pointed out and fed us countless Icelandic plants and extolled their various medicinal virtues. The lichen thing was weird to me – optimally you brew it in hot water and then in hot milk before eating it. How does anyone come up with something like that? “Look at this bizarre thing I found growing on the rocks! Why don’t I boil it in milk and eat it?” Anyhow, she led us up and over and around. Each view and bird cliff was somehow even more impressive than the previous. Hornvik is unbelievably beautiful – truly sublimely lovely, and we could understand the envy expressed by all the Icelanders we’d told about our sojourn.

brad diligently scanning for foxes

After she’d pointed out all the monitoring locations and given us the basic information (pit toilet 800 meters south of camp, water from pretty much anywhere you find water), she raced off to catch the boat and left us to it. We had barely erected the kitchen tent and had not yet solved the mystery of the giant gas canister when a fox strolled leisurely through the camp to check us out. He casually looked us over and then proceeded to assert himself by marking a couple of posts and rock outcrops. We were thrilled/ shocked/ giddy and madly scrambling for cameras as he sauntered back up the hill and out of sight.

Kimberly on the look out for foxes

We retired that evening excited to begin monitoring. Brad and I split the watch on the Horn monitoring location – I took noon to six and he took six to midnight. Due to some scheduling issues, Suzanne was unable to start with us, so Josh went up to the saddle of the cliff to monitor three fox dens in the valley and meant to cover them most of the entire watch himself. (Suzanne arrived with the ferry on Friday on began monitoring that very day splitting time on the saddle with Josh) The hike up to each location was an hour to an hour and a half and once there you settled yourself into a likely spot and prepared to be silent and vigilant for six or more hours. We recorded all the human activity as well as the animal behavior – trying to see if links can be formally established between human use and animal behavior.

fox pauses from his serenade



We await the ferry with our gear pile



It was really hot hiking in the brilliant sun and very cold sitting in the biting winds. You had to bring many layers to adjust to the extremely variable weather and a big thermos of hot drinks as well. What we found is that the foxes are not particularly active on the noon to 6 watch. Mostly what Kimberly monitored were hikers, boats and the weather. Part of the job was timing how long people spent around the den we were watching. Most people walked right over the den (which was in the middle of the trail) with only the briefest of pauses. Some stopped long enough to point out the holes to their companions and take a few photos. Then there were those charming few who tried to conjure foxes out of the dens by rattling their trekking poles in the holes a shouting. I’m not sure where these people got the idea that threatening an animal with a stick and shouting will encourage it to approach you. I suspect that these were Icelanders most of whom Ester and others told us harbor a profound dislike of the foxes. This disdain goes back to the agricultural root of the country and the ubiquitous belief of farmers the world over that any animal with sharp teeth is a threat to the livestock. In Iceland that means that the farmers think that the foxes eat the sheep. If it wasn’t for the fact that people can shoot foxes on sight anywhere in Iceland but on Hornstrandir it would be amusing. Please, look at our fox pictures and videos and let us know if they look to you like they could take down a sheep that wasn’t already chopped up on a dinner plate.

Brad enters the data

Far more exciting from a fox watching perspective was my 6 to midnight shift which featured about 3 hours of sitting in the shade once the sun slid around to the north. Despite the bitter cold I endured with the help of my snowsuit and thermos of coffee, I had the consolation of many foxes to watch. The first two nights the foxes I saw were pretty far away and difficult to see without the binoculars. However, on the third night a fox came so close I thought he was going to sit in my lap (which would have been very welcome since it was a particularly cold and windy evening). He snuck up on me while I had the binoculars glued to my face scanning the face of Midfell. I heard a noise close by and turned to find a fox not more than 6 feet behind me. He walked around me for a minute or 2, then lost interest and walked away. Later he returned for another look and then seemed to head for cover lower down on the mountain. The same fox came to visit me on the 4th night out also. For this reason, Kimberly and I decided to trade shifts on the last day so that I would have the hiker observation shift and she would get to watch the foxes. She was not disappointed because my friend visited her and put on the show you can watch on our youtube channel. Here: http://youtu.be/Xeaf6OHlhcA

the arctic fox center in sudavik

This fox monitoring business was the centerpiece activity of our Fund for Teachers grant and it was exactly what we had hoped it would be. We learned so much about what goes into a wildlife study. Each morning before heading out to monitor we discussed the ways we will incorporate the experiences.

Our week in Hornvik flew by and before we knew it we were packing up and hauling our weighty gear back down to the beach (which was only slightly less tiring that going up). The ferry arrived on time at 11:30, we were shuttled aboard, and settled in for the 3 hour ride back to Isafjordur. When we landed we were met by Fanney (Ester’s wonderful daughter) and Sonja (who works at the center for the summer) and they carted us and all the gear to the Arctic Fox Center in Sudavik.

We wrapped up our fox monitoring experience at the Arctic Fox Center in Sudavik. It is a beautiful facility with thoughtful, well displayed exhibits, two orphaned “ambassador” fox kits and a fantastic café. http://www.melrakki.is/  We were feted with marvelous waffles, cream and jam by the awesome staff (thank you for everything Fanney, Sonja and Isabelle) and then set to work entering all the data from our field logs. It took hours and we began to regret the verbosity of our weather and tourist recording. The center also arranged camping for us at the local campground. The whole experience was beyond our wildest imaginings and we are deeply grateful to both Fund for Teachers and to Ester and the Arctic Fox Center.

josh juggles fox kits



unbelievablely cute baby fox



Isafjordur – Excruciating, Exhausting, Exquisite and Delicious

cafe braedraborg- mmmm, cake

That pretty much sums up our time in Isafjordur. If I haven’t mentioned it before, let me now make clear what an extraordinarily fit, hearty bunch the Icelanders are. If you’ve never read Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth (you should be ashamed) you should get it out and in the character of Hans, you can see what they are like. They don’t all speak fluent Danish and we didn’t find them taciturn, but everything else was pretty much spot-on. Anyhow, the point of this digression is to make clear that the Icelandic definition of “moderate activity” and everyone else’s idea are wildly divergent. The kayak trip I booked for us – 8 hours of cruising the placid fjord gawking at seals and ending up steeping in a geothermal pool – was a labor of Hercules.

I want to say this post is so late because I have just now regained the use of my arms – but that is a slight exaggeration. The town is the largest and most important city in the entire Westfjords region – over 2000 people. We flew in and wimped out of camping again. It was raining and cold and we told ourselves we had a full week of living rough – totally exposed to the elements in the wholly unreliable Hyperlight 3 ahead of us and needed to recruit our strength. The Hotel Edda chain had sleeping bag space available. This chain is set up for the summer tourist season in schools across Iceland. We shared a chemistry classroom with 3 French people and a Dane.

The “hotel” was a 10 minute walk from downtown and we walked over to locate the café where we were to meet our guide for the kayak excursion the next morning. The café Braedraborg was a haven of organic, vegetarian deliciousness. Everything was wonderful and we were thrilled to hear that they were supplying our lunches for the kayak trip. Next day was gorgeous, and we learned that yesterday’s drizzle was the first precipitation they had seen for a month.

We met our guide and the other three participants and drove out Reykjarfjordur. The winds were fairly strong; the guide said they were just with-in the limits of his having to cancel. The fjord was stunning, the seals were like robins – bobbing up adorably here, there, everywhere. It was a little nerve-wracking actually. They were so playful that I was afraid they might try to tip us into the water.

isafjordur

All our previous sea kayaking has been in Hawaii and Florida – places where falling in is part of the fun. Here we wore a good 15 pounds of thermal/ waterproof gear including spray skirts. These are super elasticized to cinch over the lip of the kayak – whatever you call the hole where you sit in a kayak- to keep the frozen North Atlantic spray from causing your death of hypothermia. They are equipped with a strap that is your emergency release if you tip over. This was pretty scary as I couldn’t budge mine and would therefore be hopelessly trapped under the kayak in an accident. The water was crystal clear; affording an excellent view of the immense swarms of the biggest jellyfish I have ever seen – one more reason to sit there having a conniption fit about a seal tipping me.

psst! there's a seal following you!

If my heart had not already exploded from the incredible effort of propelling the kayak against the current and killer headwinds it would have seriously been lodged in my throat. The trip out to our lunch spot was hard work, but wonderful. If I’d had a grain of sense I’d have insisted on portaging the kayak back to the trailer from there. It was probably less than a mile by land and after lunch the winds had changed direction and picked up strength. I was making good progress back to the shore where we had embarked when the guide pulled up beside me to tell me we were actually headed to a seal beach on the opposite shore. Since the point of the excursion was observing wildlife up close and on their home turf I felt I had to even though seals had practically been riding in the kayak with me the whole time.

It was heart breaking, back breaking, arm breaking crossing the fjord – the waves were much larger now and several times threatened to swamp me. The seals were laid out all over the beach basking and lolling. I didn’t even care. I hated those seals because now I had to recross the fjord again. Brad took a video that look like he panned the beach – he didn’t. He just quit paddling for a few seconds and that is how quickly and how far back he was blown. I have never exerted so much effort for nothing in my life. I had the ultimate humiliation of the having the guide tow me half-way across on the way back. I just couldn’t do it. He didn’t even seem to be working. He was at least two to three inches shorter than me and I won’t humiliate myself further by guessing how much I outweigh him. That is what I mean about the wiry, superhuman strength of the Icelanders. After hauling me half-way back he had to go out again and tow in the gigantic Dane.

By the time we beached, I was completely incapacitated – I could not use my arms at all. Brad had to haul me out of the kayak and put me in the van. The trip to the thermal pool was life saving. We bobbed and steamed and were remade by the hot water. I liked seals again. I even like kayaking again. It really was beyond beautiful and I cannot recommend the guides enough. http://www.boreaadventures.com/  

As if their trips are not wonderful enough, we were thrilled to learned that they are supporters of the Artcic Fox center and donate a percentage of every excursion’s cost to them.

Pictures at: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjAQMCmw  Just one, the rest will go up August 1st.

Video: http://youtu.be/CKWKKxrchek  It is just the one – they are too quick and we are too slow, especially dressed up in our gear and trying not to lose a paddle.

Reykjavik- Where the streets have several names

fin whale- look VERY closely

First stop this morning was Nesbraud bakery in Stykkisholmur. They didn’t have any kleina - none, nada, zip. We couldn’t believe it; we were planning to spend the better part of our drive across the Snaefells peninsula eating our way through an entire bag. They did have assorted other deliciousness and so that was fine.

Back in Reykjavik, we headed straight for the Saga Center. It’s housed in a refurbished set of old water towers that has been converted into exhibition and restaurant space, complete with indoor geyser. This particular Saga Center covered the highpoints of Icelandic history from its days as a volcanic speck rising from the North Atlantic to the period after the Reformation when Iceland became a Lutheran country. The exhibit consists of a series of 17 life-sized dioramas accompanied by an informative audio guide. The mannequins were extremely life-like. The faces and bodies were constructed from plaster casts of actual people from the city. There was a movie showing at the end of the exhibit detailing how the mannequins were built.

Hallgrimskirkja and Leif Ericson. The statue was a gift from the USA
on the 1000th anniversary of the first Alping

We climbed to the rooftop viewing deck for a panorama of the city. It was a fairly cloudy so the picturesque snowy peaks around the city were not visible but we rejoiced that it was not, for the moment, raining. The roof has the requisite café where we enjoyed lunch of Belgian waffles with ice cream (Brad and Zada) and mushroom soup (Kimberly).

Next, we went to the National Museum of Iceland which houses artifacts from the whole human history of Iceland. It is an amazingly well done museum. The exhibits are labeled in Icelandic and English (thank you people of Iceland). As you walk through the museum you can a real sense for how hard life must have been here for the early settlers. Everyone knows that the life of a pioneer is never easy, but at least the European settlers who came to North America didn’t have to bring their own logs to build shelters.

Our last stop of the day was Hallgrimskirkja, the church that towers over the city’s skyline designed to look as if it was built of columnar basalt and painted white. We have noticed on our travels through the country that uber-modern churches are something of a fashion in Iceland. We passed though several quaint villages where the church resembled a clam shell or whale vertebrae.

Reykjavik from Perlan

On our second day in Reykjavik we decided that, in our quest to see all the wildlife possible, we should go on another whale watch. According to the brochures the most commonly spotted whales in Flaxafloi Bay are the minke. So we drove downtown, bought tickets and window shopped until it was time to go. Predictably, it was quite chilly out on the water but beautifully sunny with excellent visibility. The first whale we encountered was the rarely seen in these waters fin whale. The fin is the second largest of the whales, being only slightly smaller than a blue. It is also the fastest, able to reach speeds of 25 miles per hour. When they surface, their spout is 18 to 30 feet high and so easy to see from distance. Unfortunately, they do not, like our good friends the humpbacks, show their flukes before a dive which means the photos I got are pretty underwhelming. Still, pictures or not, we all got a good look which was awesome. Later, we got to see a minke whale. These are small, by baleen whale standard, about 33 feet long and when they surface there is almost no visible spout. Kimberly describes them as “slow dolphins” because they look like dolphins surfacing in slow motion. On our way back to port we passed Reykjavik’s local puffin island. (Most puffin islands in Iceland are called Lundey which is Icelandic for “puffin island”.) There were not so many puffins, or perhaps we were simply spoiled by the volume and closeness, but it’s always nice to see puffins.

Upon our return to land we took chance on a place called Café Haiti which promised crepes, both sweet and savory, with a delightful variety of toppings. There was also a tempting chocolate cake on display. I got a crepe with chocolate and banana while Kimberly went with cheese only on account of them being out of mushrooms. And yes, we also ate cake. Everything was extremely delicious right down to the coffee and hot chocolate. Sated, we waddled back to the car and returned to the hostel.

Blue Lagoon

Our last day in Reykjavik was mostly given to packing for our week in the Westfjords, shopping, and eating. I confess that we returned to Café Haiti for more deliciousness. The real excitement of the day was our visit to the thermal baths at the Blue Lagoon. The Lagoon is, like the Myvatn Nature Baths, the outflow from a geothermal power plant. The dissolved minerals in the water are supposedly good for your skin and such. We soaked in the hot water for about 3 hours, leaving only when they appeared to be setting up for a disco. Having visited both, I’d have to give the edge to Myvatn. The water was warmer and the view was better. Also, Myvatn was less crowded as the Blue Lagoon is on the road from the airport to Reykjavik every person who visits Iceland drives right past it and takes a dip.

slideshow here: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjAKRcho

Heimaey Means “Home Island”

blue cinders at pompeii of the north

We drove out early to get to Landeyjahofn where we caught the ferry to the Westman Islands. Westman Islands? Aren’t they actually as far South as you can go in Iceland? Why yes, they are. It certainly isn’t about Vikings have poor directional sense; the Irish slaves (or West Men) of Hjorliefur, rose up and killed him and escaped to these islands. They were mercilessly hunted to extinction by his half-brother, Ingolfur on these same volcanic outcrops.

These same islands were the scene of a terrible Algerian pirate raid in the 1600’s where almost 250 of the natives were carried off to African slavery. Twenty-something eventually had their freedom purchased. If these various stirring events don’t make for enough of local history, their more recent claims to fame are equally, if not more dramatic.

eldfell, westman islands

The Westmans are home to the world’s newest island; Surtsey emerged hissing and boiling from the ocean in 1963. It is a living laboratory, inaccessible to all but scientists specializing in bio-colonization. http://www.surtsey.is/index_eng.htm has tons of good information on this fascinating UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The Westmans made big volcanic news again in 1973 when Eldfell emerged from the earth and began raining fire, ash and lava on the island. The whole island, 5000+, was evacuated in just a few hours with no loss of human life. Pretty amazing – equally amazing was the inhabitants’ determination to not lose their home to the eruption. When lava threatened their harbor, a remarkable scheme was hatched to divert the lava flow with tons of frigid sea water and keep it from closing off the harbor.

Heimaey is also famous for their puffins. Scads of these adorable sea birds call these jagged cliffs home. The children of Heimaey take to the hills and dales in August with cardboard boxes seeking out puffin chicks in distress. When it is time to head out for their months at sea, some of the chicks become disoriented and lose their way. These are given a lift by the children, who collect them in said boxes, take them home, and then release them directly into the sea when they are ready. Unfortunately, the puffins are now facing a threat beyond the scope of the children to mend. Rising sea temperatures have eliminated their food source and seriously diminished the population.

puffin!

We had a spectacular day for our visit and the islands were gorgeous. Eldfell dominates your approach and is a bizarre red cinder cone. Helgafell sits quietly in the background, all dark and brooding. It is definitely a very dramatic landscape. We went up to the puffin cliffs and enjoyed the gorgeous view out over the island and all of its uninhabited surrounding kin – not very many puffins, but plenty of sheep. We also hiked up Eldfell, the lava field slopes up gently making it a very easy climb. We took hundreds of pictures of its truly magnificent geological rainbow splendors. The island is trying to establish a “Pompeii of the North” outdoor museum. They have done partial excavations of some of the 400+ homes buried under the lava. We peeked into dark recesses and saw into living rooms covered in these gloriously iridescent-blue bits of cinders.

See the slideshow at: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjAQMyjA  – only one image now, the rest will be up August 1st.

Video at: http://youtu.be/GEOIsVq95lk  



you can really see where the lava flow buried part of the town



eldfell in front, helgefell behind

Snaefellsnes Peninsula- This Way to the Center of the Earth

cliffs at arnarstapi

First stop today was Arnarstapi. It’s the village in Jules Verne’s “Journey to the Center of the Earth” from which Lidenbrock and crew head out to climb Snaefells (where they find the tube that leads to the center of the Earth). There’s a small “monument” to Verne behind a café with a sad turf roof. It’s a sign post showing the distances to major cities if one could travel through, rather than around, the planet. There is also a monument to the god of the mountain whose name is Baldur, built out of large, flat rocks. The sculptor made an amazingly expressive face considering his medium. We had been planning to walk along the sea cliffs a ways but the extra heavy liquid sunshine made us rethink. The cliffs were crawling with gulls nesting. They were mostly the columnar basalt we’ve seen all over the place but here large areas of it had been turned on its side.

djupalonssandur

Next, we drove about half a mile into Snaefellsjokull National Park to get a better look at the ice cap. There were ragged clouds drifting around the summit but here and there blue sky could be seen and sun on the slopes. (Later in the day we were treated to a nearly unobstructed view of the mountain. It’s no Mount Rainier but it is a gorgeous mountain.) The road looked a little too exciting to go very far so we ventured back to the main road and carried on around the base to Snaefells. The road cuts across several lava fields. What has interested us about the lava fields here in Iceland is their variety. Some are quite smooth while some resemble a grotesque sculpture garden. Our favorites are the ones that are old enough to have the thick pillows of lichen growing over them.

god of snaefells

A few kilometers later we arrived at Djupalonssandur, a black pebble and sand beach strewn with the rusted wreckage of a British freighter. Back in the day this beach functioned as the aspiring Icelandic fisherman’s proving ground. To earn a job on a fishing boat, a man would need to prove his strength by lifting 4 increasingly massive rocks. The smallest rock is about 50 pounds; the next size up is about 120. The ability to hoist either of these was not good enough to get you a job on a fishing boat. To be a fisherman you had to be able to lift the two largest rocks which weigh in at 220 and 340 pounds respectively. Brad was only able to lift the first two which means he’s only cut out to do the knitting in 19th century Iceland.

snaefells- the passage to the center of the earth is on top

Leaving the heavy rocks behind, we wandered down to the beach where the waves were crashing. Zada took to her usual waterside pastime of rock throwing. Kimberly filmed an adorable video of Zada trying to retreat from a particularly large wave and falling on her behind. See it here: http://youtu.be/UIFpnB8-I1o Nearby Brad found some sea stars that had washed up on shore so we went into full animal rescue mode and returned them to a nearby tide pool. They were beautifully orange with purple lines. Hopefully they weren’t beaten to a pulp by the rapidly incoming tide.

We continued on around the end of the peninsula where we were blinded by a bright light in the sky that we realized was the Sun. There are several precious little towns to be seen and the ocean was stunningly blue, almost Caribbean blue. The slopes of Snaefells peeked in and out of the clouds and countless waterfalls cascaded down from the snows above.

the library of water in stykkisholmur

In the town of Grundarfjordur we visited the Saga Museum. We thought that these saga museums that we had been seeing were dedicated to THE SAGAs. Now we know that saga can also mean local history. The displays inside showed implements from the village’s founding as a fishing community. Apparently there was a large French fleet of fishing boats there. There is a restored row boat, the kind that the locals fished in for many years. It was open, held 7 men, wasn’t more than 20 feet long, and had 6 lines of 100 hooks each. There was also a model of a turn of the last century Icelandic house, two small rooms, one of which is the kitchen, to house 8 or more people. The last part of the museum was a collection of old toys from the 1950s and 60s in a mock up of a toy store that used to exist in the town.

Driving on we came to Helgafell, a small hill crowned by the ruins of church once held as sacred to the god Thor. According to Lonely Planet, you will have three wishes granted if you find the grave of Gudrun Osvifursdottir, climb the mountain, and face east, oh, and never tell anyone what you wished for. We looked and found no such grave. Probably this is another case of Lonely Planet yanking our chain by writing about things that do not exist. We climbed it anyway and were rewarded with a stunning view of the snowy mountains and the beautiful fjord.



quintessential view of iceland- mountain, waterfall, farm



Our day ended in Stykkisholmur, with a trip to the Library of Water. It’s an art installation by artist Roni Horn built in the town’s old library. She filled 24 glass pillars, each 12 inches wide and 10 feet tall holding more than 50 gallons of water, with water from Iceland’s glaciers. Each pillar holds water from a specific glacier. The effect as you wander in and around the pillars is quite beautiful. The library is situated on a hill above the town so you can see the houses, the harbor and the fjord magnified and bent in curious ways. It was a remarkable space and very serene.

Tomorrow we are back in Reykjavik for several days before we head into the Westfjords to watch foxes. See the pictures at: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjAr4GbJ

The Golden Circle and Sleeping Inside!

We left the park early, after a surprisingly good night’s sleep in the Nautilus (being under water and all). The new down bags Brad & I got were lifesavers - thank you Fund for Teachers! That wretched tent is going back again, for the 3rd time I might add. They apparently resealed those seams with scotch tape. Anyhow, the drive was more loveliness, lush valleys with postcard perfect farms nestled by fabulous waterfalls with ideally assorted and placed livestock interspersed with the icy white fingers of impressive glaciers and glorious coastal views.

Our first stop was Geysir. We were frantic to beat the tour busses if at all possible on this most popular round in all of Iceland. Geysir is situated in a small geothermal plain with fumaroles, hot pools ringed with mineral deposits and several smaller geysers. It used to go quite regularly, but at one point tourists tried to promote eruptions by throwing rocks into it. How would blocking it up make it erupt, you ask? Good question – it doesn’t; it blocks it up. Fortunately, its next door neighbor, Stokkur, erupts every 4-6 minutes, so there is always something steamy and sulfurous smelling going on. It isn’t comparable to Steamboat or Old Faithful, but it was very nice to see the original – the one for which all geysers are named.

A couple of busses of Germans arrived and sped us on our way to Gullfoss. Gulfoss manages to be the most famous waterfall in a country almost absurdly overfilled with gorgeous waterfalls. As I said, they are a feature of almost every single farmstead as well as the star attractions at so many parks. It was beautiful and impressive roaring away in almost an “S” bend that created a stair step fall. The mist rose up in a sheer curtain beside the trail soaking everyone and everything in the area. The flowers and greenery were going crazy as a result. The falls were saved by the woman sometimes called Iceland’s first environmentalist, Sigridur Tomasdottir. A developer wanted to turn the fall into a hydro-electric plant and she fought it every step of the way, threatening to throw herself into the falls if they were to be destroyed. It is unimaginable now that it was ever considered. The Icelanders seem to have a somewhat conflicted relationship with the environment – understandable as nature is always trying to kill them.

At any rate, the falls were amazing. A cruise ship load of Chinese arrived and we were almost shoved into the falls by the giant waves of those not understanding that the walkway was designed for two-way traffic. We raced to the car, after a brief pause to commemorate the passing of Brad’s winter hat (a Burton cap he has owned since 1992 – truly ugly, but he was most sincerely attached to it); a new Icelandic cap was purchased and we were on the move.

Pingvellir National Park houses the site of the oldest continuous parliamentary democracy in the world. In the year 930AD the Icelanders established the Alping (the p makes a th sound) that acted as a lawgiving body as well as a judiciary. The site was chosen because the Mid-Atlantic Ridge formed a natural platform from which the members of the assembly could address the others. The name Pingvellir means “assembly plain”. The site’s stunning location on Lake Pingvellir (Iceland’s largest lake) meant another encounter with the midges we met at Myvatn. There was a breeze so they weren’t entirely unbearable. First we walked over to the Logberg which means “law rock”. It’s where the laws of the land were recited each year during the Alping. The site is marked today by a flagpole with an Icelandic flag. One interesting site near the Logberg is a beautiful pool of crystal clear water on the Oxara River where it flows out of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. It’s where they used to drown the women who had been sentenced to death. There was a complete list of the all the women drowned in the pool for various offences.

The planets aligned, the fates smiled and yes, we are loved because the hostel in Reykjavik could house us for the night. True, we are in separate dorms all over the place, but we are not in the field in the rain soaked plastic shell – no, we can do that tomorrow in Grundafjordur

Here Are the Pictures

Okay, after the good ship SS Hyperlight 3 could not be dried, a decision was taken to drive however long it took and crawl begging to the Reykjavik hostel for indoor sleeping. Another cold, damp night in the tent when we are faced with a full week in primitive camping on Hestur could not be faced. We are enjoying electricity, internet, laundry, bathing that doesn’t involve a river and pizza – not necessarily in that order.


Here are the links for the Flikr slide shows:

Seydisfjordur and the East: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjAnuKcb

Jokulsarlon: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjAnuB8L

Skaftafell: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjAnusVJ

Svartifoss, et al.

Skaftafell is a lovely place. Not very surprising, since it is set aside as a national park, but there it is. It is crowned by Vatnajokull – the 3rd largest icecap in the world (after Antarctica and Greenland) and her scads of glacial fingers jutting out in every direction. Aside from all frozen gorgeous there are delightful rambles all over the park through the forest? – it is very green and covered with trees; it just feels odd to call it a forest when it tops out at you shoulder.

Almost every hike in the park is rated at “easy” or “moderate” so we walked several trails, seeing the beautiful falls. Our favorite was the Svartifoss - Sjonarsker - Sel loop, which in 5.3 short km takes you past five waterfalls, and the tallest stand of trees in all of Iceland. Even though all our wanderings took place under the “liquid sunshine” (as they called it in New Zealand), we still enjoyed the park tremendously. The camping facilities were excellent; the tent (freshly re-seam-sealed for us just a couple of weeks before we left) reasonably water-proof, and the visitor center café has outstanding carrot cake. They are also showing the Spain/ Italy Euro 2012 final in the screening room instead of the informative film about the 1996 eruption of Grimsvotn, the volcano under the ice cap.

Jokulsarlon – It Must Mean “Most Beautiful Place, Ever” in English

Jokulsarlon is a large lagoon filled with icebergs broken off from the Breidamerkurjokull glacier. It is impossibly beautiful. It is really easy to spend hours and hours staring into the water watching the giant bizarrely shaped chunks of blue ice flow out towards the sea. The lagoon is also full of skuas, Arctic terns, seals and ducks.

 

We walked over to the other side and down to the beach where the tide going out had stranded several large blocks of ice on the black volcanic sand. We wandered the beach for some time watching icebergs crash and roll in the surf.

Vatnajokull – Putting the Ice in Iceland

We arrived at the visitor center and found our tour operator, Glacier Guides, and their wonderful grass-roofed hut easily. Everyone got fitted with crampons and handed an ice axe, and we boarded the Bluebird yellow schoolbus that would take us to Falljokull. We noticed this glacier on our way in; it is very distinctive with its giant ice cliff towering over the moraine some thousand feet above. This is just one of dozens, possibly hundreds of glaciers in the park. They all are arms of the Vatnajokull ice cap.


Our guide, Svavar, mentioned that the ice at the base of the ice fall is more than 500meters thick – which puts it below sea level. The glacier is retreating very rapidly. Every glacier hike we’ve taken has the drill of daily maintenance of the routes as they change constantly necessitating new steps being cut, new paths created, hazards identified or cleared and so on. Svavar told us that in just the five weeks since his first tour this season the toe of the glacier has retreated at least six feet. The glacier is losing height as well – about two meters of thickness every year.

We climbed about half way up to the ice cliff, stopping every ten minutes or so to be introduced to a new glacial feature. We noticed that this glacier was pockmarked with little cones of soil and rock, and that the surface was sprinkled with small stones, many of them covered with thick moss. We wondered if a storm of rock fall had carried this over to the ice, but no, turns out these things were trapped in the ice and the melting has just know set them free. The little moss covered stones are nicknamed “glacier mice”. The moss is the only living thing on the glacier.

There were more fascinating/ gorgeous features than you could shake a trekking pole at, and we need to finish this post before the battery dies completely, so…summary:

Cauldrons – these large crater-like depressions in the ice were filled with sediments washed into crevices in the glacier as melt water raced to find the easiest out-flow.

Water channels – The ice we were so blithely tromping across turns out to be a veritable Swiss-cheese of these tunnels. I knew water was flowing under the glacier and that is how it moves forward – I did not realize that water is moving all over and all through the glacier also. Svavar showed us a few of these areas where surface melt was digging a canyon for itself into the glacier and then went under the surface forcing its way through every tiny crack or weakness. We saw some incredibly elaborately honey-combed water passages. These can burrow down immense depths – and we are stomping all over this much thinner than you thing surface in our pokey metal shoes. Zada couldn’t stop jabbing at every thin or weak looking area with her ice-axe; apparently determined to open a monster crevasse for us to all be swallowed by or something.

Svavar took us to one last hole in the ice – this one was extra-ordinarily straight and deep. He dropped a large rock and had us count off the seconds until we heard it hit bottom. It took a really long time. He reminded us that each second was approximately 9.8 meters of acceleration. Then reminding us to be careful he headed down off the ice slope.

Seydisfjordur/ Shangri-La

The drive out here was heart-stopping in a variety of ways. After Egilsstadir we turned off onto route 93 and started climbing, at a 10 -12% grade up and over the mountain. The road twisted, turned, contorted itself into knots and was, as is standard here, liberally dotted with sheep. They most enjoy holding the crest of the road right smack into a hair-pin turn we find. All around us on the way to the “pass” (is it really a pass if you are at the summit?) were verdant fields of wildflowers, rocky outcrops, snow capped peaks and spectacular waterfalls. At the summit there were enormous lakes withlittle islands of un-melted pack ice from the winter. The sky was blue, rendering these pools unimaginably exquisite.

The road down into the town was more of the same breathtaking lovliness, but somehow even more so because of the glimpses you caught of the fjord. There are no pictures of all this unfortunately; the road was gorgeous, but the steepness of the grade, sharpness of the turns and general sheep-filledness of it all wouldn’t allow me to move a muscle.

Seydisfjordur itself was beyond charming. We wandered the whole town enjoying glorious views from every angle. The homes are Norwegian style (many from kits from Norway), painted in rich colors and nestled into the fresh green hillsides. Except for the church, which was a heavenly powder blue with snowy trim. It was completely Mayberry, Iceland.

Next morning we were up and out early for the huge drive to Skaftafell, the Southern Unit of Vatnajokull National Park. This drive was also magnificent. The drive up and over the mountain “pass” included the additional excitement of snow – yes, snow on June 30.

The drive featured other, more welcome excitements such as reindeer, a lagoon of other-worldy beauty filled with thousands of swans, and more general-purpose Icelandic coastal gorgeous. We also saw lots of volcanic gorgeous, including some lovely rhyolite mountains. Some of the mountain driving was extra thrilling as it was clear from the giant rubble piles and crushed avalanche barriers that rockslides are fairly common.

We stopped in Hofn, an exquisitely situated town at the tip of a fjord across from Vatnajokull. There are incredible views of at least three of the glaciers to be had from their harbor. We also discovered chocolate dipped kleina – which are perhaps the best thing ever. We had finished our first by the time we got to the car and immediately went back into the bakery to buy the rest.