Nothing to a Sneeze At

Our last day of driving was spent on a day trip to the peninsula northwest of the one occupied by Reykjavik, where we saw the famous Snaeffel (which we think sounds like "sniffle") and the surrounding hamlets.  Snaeffel, as you may or may not know, is the volcano that Jules Verne uses in Journey to the Center of the Earth as the entrance to the pathway taken by the intrepid explorers.  I thought that, since I have been reading the book throughout this vacation, it would be fun to see the mountain in person.  

Snaeffel is considered an active volcano, thought it has not erupted in centuries.  It's currently covered by a glacier, which is believed by locals to "emanate mystic power".  In fact, some consider it one of the seven great (mystic) power sources on earth, and some call it the king of the mountains in Iceland. The ancient name for the volcano-glacier power duo means Snowy Mountain, because originally the volcano was only partly covered with snow.  Another fun fact: did you know that there was a "little Ice Age" from the Middle Ages to the beginning of the 20th century?  Really glad I didn't have to live through that.

Our drive to Snaeffel was beautiful, with much of the same rugged scenery that we has enjoyed while driving out east.  Mountains rose and fell to one side, while the coastline ebbed and flowed to the other.  After a few hours, we made it to the information center at the base of the mountain.  Inside were posters, placards, and all sorts of other informative offerings.  A giant map of the peninsula has been edited with small post-it triangles to indicate caves and new paths.  Giant signs throughout the exhibit described flora, fauna, and the history of the inhabitants here.  I learned that there is only one native species of dog, the Icelandic sheepdog, which was brought over by the original settlers and which has adapted to the local environment and climate.  There are few large animals, but there is one species of gray fox, which we were lucky enough to see less than half an hour after visiting the information center.  There were also bones of different animals, sheepskin slippers you could test out on the lava, and century-old photos of weather-lined faces.  It was probably the most extensive visitor's center we has seen in Iceland, and in such a relatively remote place.  It was so thorough that it even ruined the ending of my book for me, but I will forgive it for being such an overachieving place.

At the suggestion of one of the information center employees, we began to take all the side roads and explore the trails, which offered 10-15 minutes of hiking to some interesting rock formation, bird cliff, or light house.  

We had wanted to scale the mountain, but there seemed to be no good way to do this... So we made our own trail.  We parked on the side of the road and aimed for a point between two peaks, where a flat ridge lay below the two points.  The spongy moss was quite nice to walk on, though the underlying volcanic rock made for uneven terrain.  There were patches of mud, which Josh feared would turn out to be like quicksand.  Lucky for us, we did not get dragged down into it, but it was soft enough that our entire boots were covered in mud and we began to skip along the tops of rocks embedded in the mud for easier passage.  I'm not sure exactly what we had intended, but the hike involved quite a lot of elevation and took about an hour each direction.  It was probably the most strenuous hiking that we had done, but we both loved it.  After so many hours of driving, it felt great to get out and conquer a mountain.

Note: this is not the part that we scaled.  Ours was less snowy.

By the time we finished our hike, the first raindrops were beginning to fall and the sky had darkened.  We sheltered ourselves in the car and turned toward Reykjavik once more.

Spotted: Cities have crests!  The one we have seen most often is, obviously, the one for Reykjavik (shown below), but other towns have them, too.

Spotted #2: The (relatively) major towns here have signs where they start and end, because even the densest areas are sparsely populated and the start and end of towns can be confusing.  Josh and I both enjoyed the "end of town" sign, which looks like and anti-town sign.

A Thing about a Gey and Gull

We awoke to a blustery morning and, overwhelmed by the powerful gusts of wind, decided to visit a few other nearby sites before hiking around Thingvellir, in the hopes that the weather would improve.  We packed up our things, righted the seats, stuffed the sleeping bags into their sacks, and we were off!  It was the day of the Golden Circle, which encompasses the three main out-of-Reykjavik sites that most tourists venture out to see.  The furthest, Gullfoss, is only about an hour and a half from the city, so all three places can easily be seen in a day.

Gullfoss is a large waterfall - or, rather, double waterfall - that the locals believe puts Niagara Falls to shame in wildness and fury.  Gullfoss, or Golden Falls, is thought to derive its name from the golden hue of the water at sunset.  Another theory is that a misery farmer accumulated a large quantity of gold and, not able to bear the thought of someone else possessing his treasure, he placed the gold in a coffer and threw it into the waterfall's rapids.

Given the power of the falls, eager investors have attempted many times to harness the water for the production of electricity.  Locals living near the falls invariably feel possessive of the waterfall, saying they "will not sell their friend", and manage to kill such plans before the falls can be altered.  And therefore, preserved before us in its pristine natural rage, was Gullfoss.  There is a road that goes out to a rocky promontory in the middle of the falls, but sadly it was closed due to icy conditions.  Definitely check it out if you're there during the summer.

After Gullfoss, we retraced our steps somewhat and arrived at Haukadalur, better known for its most powerful hot spring, Geysir.  Haukadalur is about a small area Packed with multiple hot springs, though these are too hot for bathing.  The temperature of these springs is between 80 and 100 degrees Celsius, so the furiously bubbling water was not particularly tempting.  

Unlike most of the other sites that we have visited, where entrance to the site is free but use of the bathroom costs several dollars, Geysir/Haukadalur had an entrance fee of $6 per person.  Much of this clearly went to paying the salaries of the seven employees waiting at the entrance gate to sell us a ticket... And we were the only tourists in the area.  Still, we were given a good informational booklet with the prominent warning not to touch the boiling water, because the closest hospital was over 70 km away (probably in Reykjavik).  Warning heeded.  We wandered the park, admiring tiny hot springs that looked like tiny recreations of lakes in paradise, laughing at the childish ferocity of "Little Geysir", and waiting expectantly for the explosive might of the active geysers.  

Apparently, I wasn't quite prepared enough, because when Strokkur erupted, I saw it out of the corner of my eye and screamed - loudly.  Josh and I collapsed laughing, glad that we were the only ones in the park, and wandered on to the next pool.  We kept an eye on the time, thought, because Strokkur dependably errupts every 5-8 minutes.  And so we continued on to Haetta, which is considered by many to be the most beautiful, and finally to confront the famous giant, Geysir.  Approaching Geysir required shuffling through a pervasive blanket of sulfur-laden steam, making the endeavor a smelly one.  While Geysir is large and its deep pool is quite intriguing, it is a hot spring has-been.  Geysir still erupts higher than any other in the park, and at 70-80 meters on average, its eruptions of water and steam are considerably higher than those of Old Faithful.  But Geysir erupts less and less frequently, perhaps three times a day, and then usually when provoked by the park rangers who dump 40 liters of soap on its surface (which somehow triggers the water to shoot up in protest.  I wouldn't like to have 40 L of soap dumped on me, either).

It was fun to wander the park, sulfur smell aside, and we stuck around to see a few more eruptions of Strokkur.  Sadly, we discovered that Strokkur, too, is a poser.  Its eruptions were growing less frequent, so they drilled down another 40 meters and it has been a dependable performer ever since.

Finally, we ventured to the third and final attraction of the Golden Circle, Thingvellir.  This relatively small stretch of land is a place of historic importance: the Icelandic assembly (the longest continuously-running democratic assembly in the world) met here for centuries, the first national church was built here, and this was the site of the administration of law and executions.  The beautiful waterfall here was the site of drownings of women who broke the law, which tainted the site for us a bit.  Thingvellir is also located at the meeting of the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates, which move about 2 cm a year and cause an earthquake every 10 years or so.  Perhaps the Icelandic assembly took this as the gods' suggestion to shake things up a bit.  If so, let's install a meeting of tectonic plates in D.C.

Thingvellir is also on the northern edge of the largest lake in Iceland, which stretches into the distance like blue glass.

Sightseeing concluded, we turned the car toward Reykjavik, which seemed shockingly full of cars after our jaunt out east.  We checked into our new room in a beautiful 120-year old house in the heart of downtown, took a well-deserved shower, and took a well-deserved vacation from our vacation.

Spotted: Viking sayings.  At the Geysir stop, there was a large store filled with souvenirs for the eager tourist, including a book of Viking wisdom.  In contrast to the Viking-filled saga wisdom that ten horns of beer is better than one horn of bear, the book offered this wisdom:

Alertness

Better weight

than wisdom

a traveller cannot carry.

A clear head

is good company.

Drink is a dangerous friend.

Spotted #2: Horsies!  Icelandic horses are a little bit squat and very shaggy, which makes them irresistibly cute.  We took a short stop...

Hope (for hot) springs eternal

After a night in the car, we were a bit stiff and enjoyed stretching our legs on a morning hike through Vatnajokull National Park.  We were at one tip of it, near Skaftafell.  Our hike first took us past some minor waterfalls (such as Hundafoss and Magnúsarfoss) and then out to a more famous one, Svartifoss.  This beautiful waterfall is surrounded by curious hexagonal blocks of stone (reminiscent of some I had seen in Scotland).  Those around the waterfall were broken off such that only the top portions remained, giving the waterfall the odd likeness of an organ.  

From Svartifoss, we continued east to Sjónarnípa, where a cliff provides a fantastic view of the Skaftafellsjökull glacier and adjacent mountains.  

We the returned along Austurbrekker to the Skaftafell Visitor Centre, feeling small amidst the mountains.  Oddly, upon returning we ran into another couple that we had seen yesterday that the other glacier as well as at various gas stations.  Such is the fate of winter tourists who strike out from the city; everyone is on a fairly similar schedule.

Jumping in the car, we headed slightly further east, to Jokulsarlon, a beautiful ice lagoon.  If you've seen Die Another Day, the ice palace for the Icarus exhibition was built upon this site.  It's gorgeous; chunks of blue-green ice float in the frigid water.  White ice lay beached on the black volcanic pebbles. Melt revealed cruel scimitar projections off of icebergs.  

We walked down the beach, exploring the vastness of the lagoon.  After passing around a hill into another inlet, we spotted black lumps on one of the larger icebergs.  We had found seals!  They lay clumsily on their sides, seeming embarrassed by their own awkwardness on land.  Their little sausage bodies ended in two flipped feet, which they pressed together In a point.  Heads raised, they log rolled into the water, where they were suddenly agile and powerful.  Pairs of seals played quite close to shore, often swimming close to examine us with the same curiosity that caused us to stare back. 

Josh and I had hoped to take a boat tour around the lagoon, but due to the melting, there are too many icebergs in the lake and we were confined to shore.  We wondered if this had any effect in concentrating the seals near the shore, because there were few icebergs that looked big and flat enough for a large group of them.

At last, we headed back west, starting a slow and stop-filled trip back toward the capital.  Along route 1, we stopped at a few places we had passed on our journey out, namely Skogafoss

and Eyjafjallajökull (known lovingly as E15, because it's name is E followed by 15 letters), the famous volcano from the 2010 eruption.  

From there, we turned to head toward Thingvellir, where we planned to spend the night, but had a better idea.  What about finding a natural hot spring?  From everything we had read, most towns have one or two that are regularly used by locals.  Luckily, we had done a bit of research while in Reykjavik on local hot springs and had jotted down the very vague directions given on one blog.  We tried to enter the town name in our GPS and found nothing, so we entered the largest nearby town and hoped for the best.  Riding down route 30, we were about to give up when we saw a street sign on one side with the name of the town supposedly containing the hot spring and turned.  We tried several turns before finally finding our way to the hot spring.  But victory was ours at last.  This hot spring had one deep pool, next to which a small hut had been built for changing and hanging up your clothes.  We sank into the deepest pool and felt our tight muscles relax.  It felt amazing.

I now present to you the definitive directions to the hot spring in the hamlet of Hruni, Iceland:

- If you're traveling on route 1, as we were, take route 30 north

- Keep going, following signs toward Fluoir (the "o" is actually a weird d but I don't have that letter)

- JUST before you hit Fluoir, you should see a sign for route 344 on the right that says "Hruni".  Turn right.

- Follow the main road past several other small villages.  Don't turn off anywhere until you see the next sign on the right that says "Hruni".  Turn R (this is Hrunavegur).

- Head towards the church, but then pass the small road on the left leading toward it.

- Instead, take the road on the R (Solheimavegur) and drive down it until you see a blue sign on the left with a "no camping" symbol on it.  Park here.

- Grab your swim suit and walk over the hill. You'll see a path; follow it and it will lead you (after a 2-4 minute walk) to the hut and the hot spring.

Note: "vegur" seems to mean street, so many of the signs just say the first part of the word without the vegur part.  Don't be put off.

Refreshed from our soak, we drove the rest of the way to Thingvellir, drove on to the camp grounds, and found one bathroom that, though closed for the winter, had fortunately been locked open.  A great end to a great day.

Spotted: Headlights.  By Icelandic law (according to SADcars and seemingly verified by our experience), headlights must always be on while driving.  Perhaps due to the greater use or perhaps because they're on more we notice it, but many cars only had one functioning headlight.

Suggested listening: "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers.  Great song.

Spotted 2: Perhaps this is the reason behind the headlight law: Icelandic weather is very variable, leading to the common advice, "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes".  They even have it on magnets!  Makes me feel like I'm back in Seattle.

Explosive Women and Cold Men

We picked up our car on Tuesday morning as soon as SADcars opened.  Our new home was a beat up old Subaru Forester, with peeling red paint and a front seat filled with pamphlets warning us about driving conditions.  Though it took a lot longer to enter our destination into the GPS - eighteen-letter street names will do that - we loved listening to it rattle off directions in Icelandic as we flew out of the city and on to Route 1.  Leaving the city brought a rush of natural beauty, as well as no tractor signs that made us laugh (until we actually passed a tractor) and a few indicating local hot springs (!) which we are hoping to check out later this week.  The landscapes around us were incredible, a study in contrasts.  White snow on black volcanic ash.  Jagged mountains next to flat fields that stretched for miles into the Atlantic.

Cars were infrequent companions, although at one point we did see the blue flashes of a cop car and wondered if we had misjudged the willingness of the Icelandic police to track down lead-footed tourists.  When the car grew closer and closer over the course of an hour, we pulled to the side, ready to accept our punishment, only to have the car fly by.  We had a moment of relief until we realized that someone had been waiting at least an hour for that car to help in an emergency.

At last, we reached a large sign announcing Cafe Solheimajokull and turned off the main road.  Off any road, that is.  We bumped along a roughly hewn path scattered with volcanic rock and potholes for several miles, skirting the base of low mountains, untill arriving at the cafe.  We arrived just in time for our tour of the eponymous glacier, Solheimajokull, which means "Sun's Home Glacier".  Our guide, whose nickname was Kiele, was a boisterous 20-year old from a farm on the eastern border of Iceland who had been giving glacier tours for about a year.  He fitted us with crampons and handed each person an ice pick, then led our group of six over mounts of volcanic soil to the edge of the glacier.  From Kiele, we learned that the glacier we saw was a tongue off of a much larger glacier that rests on top of a giant and very active volcano.  This volcano erupts twice a century, but the last eruption was in 1918, so it is long overdue.  This tongue of the glacier is sliding further and further out, but is melting faster than it is moving, so it's farthest edge recedes year by year.  He showed us some of its melting milestones, and we were shocked at how much ice had melted away even in the last 10 months.

As we scaled the glacier, we learned that a glacier is referred to as "he" while a volcano is a "she".  Compressed ice is blue, while ice containing more air is white and softer.  Glaciers have crevices and sink holes, both of which can be difficult to see under layers of snow.  Oh, and the proper way to use crampons is to stomp a bit, which made me feel like a small child throwing a tantrum.  We also got to hear more Icelandic stories, and determined that Icelandic stories are almost all grim.  This one was about a man who saw an eruption of a volcano, ran into the house and grabbed his baby and ran to the top of a nearby hill to avoid the flood accompanying the eruption.  He watched as the rest of his family and his flocks died, then saw the waters rising on the hill, so he jumped onto a nearby iceberg and rode it out to see.  After several days, his baby was weak with hunger and about to die, so he cut off his nipple and breast fed his baby blood.  The punch line? Apparently now all Icelandic men have only one nipple.  This is unconfirmed, but I'll let you know once we find some hot springs.

After our ice hike, which was wonderful and had gorgeous hidden shades of blue, we continued on to Vatnajokull National Park.  We pulled in just before dark and drove slowly to a campsite, folded down the seats, slipped into our sleeping bags, and stared out the sunroof in search of the elusive Northern Lights.

Spotted: The 1800s.  A lot of the houses here look like they have been here for centuries, half swallowed by the earth and time.  Miles stretch between them, roofs are covered in sod, and shaggy Icelandic horses mow the endless fields.

Spotted 2:  Giant tires.  We've seen quite a few monster truck tires on normal cars while in Reykjavik and leaving it.  We've also seen a lot of larger tires on everyday vehicles, including ones not associated with tour companies.  I can only imagine, after seeing them, what winter is like here.