Iceland Day 2
Driving to Vik was like slicing through darkness. We couldn’t distinguish mountain from ocean anymore and only occasional gas stations lit our way. When we pulled into Vik the town surprised us with its smallness. At first we thought we missed it and soon realized that the church and handful of houses with a sports equipment store were the town. By the time we pulled into our hotel a few miles East of Vik we were ready to make up for the Easyjet morning flight in some sleep dipped in pure Icelandic silence. When I closed my eyes I could still see flashes of the Golden Circle.
The next day we got up at an early bird 10am when
it was still dark and jumped at the traditional breakfast at the hotel. M was
way too excited about the super salty anchovies while I settled on some lamb
pate spread with bread and tiny cucumbers and tomatoes – compact vegetables
from their lives in geothermic greenhouses.
When we started driving the sun was finally
lighting our way and we started squealing at every farm animal we found. Just
like the tomatoes at breakfast, the sheep and horses looked smaller as if the
winds and storms had hammered them down, legs a little shorter but their bodies
strong and steady. The birch and juniper trees too looked like defiant dwarves.
We soon passed through miles of volcanic fields. I had never seen a plain so
flat, so uninterrupted, except for the occasional mangled lava rock deposited
by melting glacier. Then the waterfalls started showing up, one after the
other, there were so many we lost count. Thread after thread of white water
cutting through sudden mountains who wore clouds like veils. Once we got close
to the Glacier Lagoon, the blue ice started filling in the mountains.
The Ice Caves
As soon as we met our tour group at the Glacier Lagoon Jokursarlon in Eastern Iceland, we realized we were severely under-camerad. Almost every person had a professional camera with massive lenses and a tripod tucked under the arm. My iPhone seemed like the smallest kid at the playground. We piled into the massive truck with chunky, oversized wheels that would take us across rocky terrain to the mouth of the cave.
What surprised me at first was all the dirt: sandy,
dark, volcanic dirt that coated the glacier where you couldn’t see where earth
ended and the ice began. But as we drew closer, we started seeing more of that
brilliant blue. They say the bluer the ice the older it is, as the color is
formed from snow that has been compressed into the glacier, crushing away water
and air bubbles to make room for blue-reflecting crystals.
The guide was more like a babysitter. He made sure
we kept our helmets on and stayed away from the risky areas of overhanging ice
that might collapse. He led us into the cave, dark at first then giving away to
palatial arches of sapphire. It seemed impossible that these ice crystals could
be so bright when lit by nothing but sunlight, so complex in their facets when
cut only by nature.
On the other side of the cave there was a large
clearing in the glacier which led to other caves off-limits to us. Some holes
in the ice spouted water, others took on recognizable shapes like cartoon
hearts. We were able to scramble on top of one lump of ice and watch the small
dark birds circle above. As we left, I was startled to find the remnants of a
bird that must have slipped, fallen – a pancake of feathers and bones flattened
by ice.
Swimming with the Icebergs
“I’ll hold your socks,” I said.
We had been circling around the beaches and the glacial lagoon, walking through
the chunks of ice shed by the glacier. By the entrance to the glacier, there
was a big blue iceberg with some ice ledges floating near the shore. I knew M
was serious when he picked out one of these ledges to swim to, and I only made
a half-hearted attempt to talk him out of it. A few years ago we had
participated in the Coney Island Polar Bear Swim. I couldn’t feel my feet for the
next two weeks; he was as warm as a bear.
We waited until most of the other tourists had left,
then M stripped off his clothes, handed me his socks and splashed into the ice
water. Just watching him made me shiver as if I could feel the water on my own
skin. He quickly splashed to the flat piece of ice, lounged on it like an 18th
century French boudoir painting, I took the photographic evidence, and he
splashed his way back.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he said.
A few meters down, a couple laughed and shook their
heads.
Even though I only watched the insanity of swimming
of icebergs, I was dying for some warm, homey dinner by the time we got back to
Vik. Luckily we found the Halldorskaffi restaurant, with its string lights,
fireplace, menu of grilled fish and burgers, was like eating at your
Icelandic-American grandmother’s house.
Travel
tips
|
For the complete 4-day
Iceland itinerary and map, click here.
|
No comments:
Post a Comment