Encircling The Golden Circle and...Spotting The Northern Lights!

March 10, Saturday:

Encircling the Famed Golden Circle and Spotting the Northern Lights:

         We awoke to a most surprising sight. It had snowed while we slept and there was at least a foot of snow that draped the entire Reykjarnes Peninsula. While I prepared our muesli breakfast and coffee in the shared kitchen, Llew stepped outside to clear our car of at least eight inches of accumulation. Thankfully, it had stopped snowing by daylight and the sun had come out. But the snow plows were not out yet (even at 9.00 am) and we could not see the dividing line on the road so that until we found our exit to the highway, we inched forward very gingerly indeed. We both hoped driving conditions would get better soon as we had a long drive to the Golden Circle. Funnily enough, as we neared Reykjavik, we noticed that there was absolutely no snow on the ground. It was only the Keflavik area that had received a beating. In fact, I was pretty certain that flights out of Keflavik airport would be delayed that morning—and I was right. For our friends Amy and Dan and their girls were supposed to board their flight back to America that day but they suffered a long delay as runways had to be cleared before takeoff.          

         Other than a dip in the Blue Lagoon, touring the Golden Circle is Iceland’s most popular activity. Since it is located only about 90 minutes’ drive from the capital, it is easily accessible to tourists and coach loads make their way to its many attractions each month—no matter the weather. Having a car made it a no-brainer for us to visit this place and with Llew behind the wheel, we set out on a glorious sunshiny, but very cold, post-snowfall, morning to begin our own tour. The region is called the Golden Circle because it literally is a loop—you can drive to the very north and make your way southwards seeing the main attractions en route or the other way around, i.e. start at the bottom and make your way to the north.

Driving to the Golden Circle—Icelandic Horses and Radio Iceland

         As we drove along Iceland’s beautiful countryside, we were struck by the vast agricultural land holdings on rich volcanic soil.  The famous Icelandic horses dotted the land in varied colors—black, brown, ginger and even white (probably albinos). I particularly loved the ginger horses with the blonde manes and bangs that fall across their foreheads. Horses are used mainly for riding and there were many horse breeding farms and horse riding schools that we passed through. The horses are protected from traffic accidents by electrified fences; but, oftentimes, they come right up to them. This makes it convenient for tourists to stop to pet them and take pictures with them. Of course, we did so too.

         The radio kept us company on the long hours that we travelled by car. There is a multiplicity of radio stations that play a lot of wonderful Icelandic native compositions. It is interesting that we have never heard of this music in the rest of the world, but there is the Icelandic Museum of Rock and Roll in Keflavik that we passed by several times en route to our hotel while we were in that part of the country.  Commentary is entirely in Icelandic, but we heard all kinds of music from classical opera to folk (Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel) to pop (we repeatedly heard the smash hit ‘Havana’ by Camila Cabello). One of the oddest things about Icelandic radio, however, is that there is endless talking (either the DJ speaks or there is a conversation between two people)—sometimes as long as 20 minutes between each song. This meant that I was constantly turning the dial looking for stations with music. 

        

The Spouting Geyser:

         Eventually, after about two hours of driving, we arrived at the first attraction in the Golden Circle—called the Geyser (pronounced ‘gay-zeer’). This is an area of geo-thermal activity that consists of a number of hot springs in varied sizes that send up plumes of smoke into the air.  We parked our car and followed the crowds along the path leading to the main geyser (named the Strokkur) which is so active that it throws up a stupendous spout of water into the air, unfailingly, every four to six minutes.  Hence, one never waits very long for the next spurt. Tripods are poised and ready as photography-enthusiasts keep clicking. We waited for about four spurts of the natural phenomenon (and indeed we could have waited there all day because it was so fascinating to me) before the cold got to us and we had to move.

         A break in the facilities followed—use of restrooms, a wonderful steaming cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream—and we were ready to move on to the next site.

Gulfoss: Frozen Waterfalls from out of Narnia

                 It was not long before we picked up a few basic words of Icelandic. Foss means Falls; Jokul means Glacier, Sarlon means Lagoon. And Gulfoss were the first waterfalls we would encounter in our travels. They were like something out of Narnia for the entire region had frozen over and only a part of the Falls was actually flowing. Needless to say, it was intensely beautiful, but once again, it was the wind that made it very unpleasant to stay out of the car for long. Flocks of tourists of many different races and nationalities crowd these spots—all bundled up like Eskimos. There is a walkway that descends down about sixty steps to the ridge from which one has great views of the dual falls—for, like Niagara, there are two sets of Falls. We posed for pictures as quickly as we could and then proceeded to the next venue. We were very grateful for our warm jackets and the many layers we wore—a hood is an absolute necessity as the wind plays havoc with one’s ears, hair and neck.

A Visit to Skalholt Church:

         Continuing along the Golden Circle one comes upon the 10^th century site of a Catholic cathedral known as Skalholt. After the Reformation hit Iceland, the country converted to Lutheranism and Catholic churches became Protestant ones—as is this church. Long before we arrived at the site, we could see the architectural outlines of this very traditional Icelandic church. We also marveled at the fact that the parking lot was simply bursting with cars.  Knowing that this is not really a site on the commercial tour routes, I wondered at the interest in the venue.  I also noticed that the national flag was flying at half-mast. As we drove closer, it was very evident that there was an important service going on in the church. This turned out to be the funeral of a very well-known Icelandic statesman who lived in nearby Selfoss. Of course, he was being buried with full national honors. On entering the church, we discovered that his coffin at the altar was draped in the national flag. The church was packed to capacity with not a single seat vacant.

         The funeral service meant that the church was out of bounds for the duration of our visit and we were unable to descend into the basement to see the stone sarcophagus of an important 11^th century bishop as Skalholt was an important Catholic bishopric in medieval times. We did, however, encircle the churchyard and did see the ancient grave stones that are also of historical importance. Then it was time for us to move on to the final stop on our driving tour—Pingvellir (pronounced ‘Thingvellir’) National Park.

Retracing Footsteps-- In Search of a Coat: 

         Only, it was at this point in our travels that I realized I had left my long down overcoat behind in our hotel in Keflavik. I had the choice of going back for it immediately or forget about it and pick it up (if it was still in our room) on our way back home, about five days later. But then I realized that I had carried the coat because the cold was so intense. It made no sense to leave it behind. Making a quick decision, we stopped at a small gas station-cum-convenience store to make a phone call to Sikka, the proprietress of the BGB Guest House, who confirmed that my coat had been found.  We told her that we could be back to pick it up in about an hour and a half—and so our drive to Keflavik occurred again. Long story short, I retrieved my beloved down coat that has seen me through some fearsome weather in places as varied as Berlin and London and Israel. And then we were in the car again. We stopped briefly to buy lunch (Club sandwiches) from a Kronan supermarket and we munched these in the car as it ate up the miles. 

         Having lost about three cars of touring time, and because Llew does not relish the idea of driving in the dark, we changed our plans and decided to go out in search of our next hotel which was in the middle of Pingvellir National Park. It was about 5.00 pm by this time. We resolved to rise earlier the next morning and start our day with a visit to the various venues in the park as we would actually be in the middle of it.  And that was what we did.

         However, we had a really hard time finding our accommodation, the Ljosafossskoli Hotel, which was a converted school. Driving in the park was a visually stimulating experience as there was so much to see: rugged landscape, mountains in the distance, rivers and streams burbling past us on the narrow roads. But we were also tense as dusk falls rapidly in the winter and it is not easy to find places that are in the midst of nowhere with no one in sight to guide or assist.  Despite having the GPS, we were not able to find our place easily. It was only when we stopped at what looked like a school in which a meeting was taking place (it turned out to a scouts’ jamboree) that we found a scout leader who could speak good English and who used her phone to help us find the exact spot—but not before we made a useless scary detour on an ice-covered track on which Llew slipped badly and fell down—thankfully, without hurting himself too much. This made us more determined than ever to end our days before darkness fell. In the end, we did find our place and were shown to our room at the end of a long corridor with shared baths. This room offered a beautiful picture window that gave us stupendous views of the entire park. We settled down on the bed for a much-needed rest after what had been a stressful day and snacked on the nibbles that we had carried. There was no way we could get any dinner as we were literally in the midst of nowhere with no restaurant or eatery around us for miles.

The Heavens Lit up for Us—Spotting the Northern Lights:

         Looking up at cloudless skies, I realized that we had the best chances of spotting the Northern Lights in this part of the country than we were likely to find anywhere else on our travels. And since one has to be in an open field in the wilderness to spot them, I suggested to Llew that we retire for the night, set our phone alarms for 11. 30 pm and then drive out into the park for about a few miles and find a spot at which we could park safely and await a possible sighting of the Lights. Llew was game and that was exactly what we did.

         When our alarm went off (neither one of us had slept a wink, by the way!), we dressed warmly and set off. About two and a half miles into our drive, I spotted a clearing in which we could park safely, shut our car headlights off completely and not have to worry about being hit from behind by another vehicle. The night was pitch dark and freezing and the skies cloudless—perfect conditions in which to spot the Lights. We got out of our car and anxiously scoured the skies but the aurora gods were playing hard to get. It was an eerie experience—one of the most unusual and memorable in our travels: out there in the pitch darkness in the wilderness with the stars twinkling saucily above us, not a sound, not a stirring, occasionally a distant glow from a passing car’s headlights that broke the novelty of it all.  After about an hour, Llew found it simply too unpleasantly cold to continue to stay outside (despite the fact that we were clad in several warm layers). 

         However, as we were driving back to our hotel, somewhat disappointed, I noticed faint activity in the sky. I urged Llew to stop and pointed out to him what seemed like grey-blue waves—very faint but certainly not clouds. Llew agreed that they seemed to be the Northern Lights. However, they were not spectacular enough for us to spend too much time on and we drove on.

         Five minutes later, we were at our hotel and it was while we were parking our car that I noticed, right in front of us, that the skies had become active and that there was both light and movement above us. I pointed it out to Llew with much excitement. We saw distinct blue-grey streaks in the sky that changed every few seconds. At times, there were wavy lines—like the waves in the ocean; at times, there were streaks--like the rays of the setting sun. I set my camera on the roof of our car (as I had been instructed to do by Lara at the hotel in Reykjavik). It was set on manual mode on a very low speed and with a very high exposure. What my camera did capture was golden wavy lines. However, what we could see with the naked eye were just blue-grey streaks.

         As the position of the Lights would be visible from the picture window in our room, we raced back up, kept the lights off in our room and in the darkness, we reached for our binoculars and looked at the Lights. They were still staining the sky and when viewed through the binoculars, they were a distinct green. However, we did not see the spectacular colors that are in countless pictures in every tourist brochure. Nor were the Lights dancing. Still, I was simply riveted by the spectacle and could not stray away from the window for a second as the patterns in that particular section of the sky kept changing even as I watched.  I was glued to that window for over an hour taking in the sheer marvel of it and although I did not capture very stirring pictures, I decided to simply feast my eyes upon the sight and commit it to memory. And that is how we got to see the Northern Lights. The purpose of our trip was vindicated. We hoped we would catch them in finer form later in our travels—but that never happened.  This was the one and only night we caught a sighting and I have to say that I was simply thrilled by what I saw.

         Still filled with excitement and gratification, we fell asleep after what had been a really unusual sort of day. 

          Until tomorrow...goodnight.