Marooned in a Blizzard and Exploring a Mysterious Hidden Cave

March 13, Tuesday:

Return Adventures En Route to Keflavik Airport—Marooned in a Blizzard and Exploring the Hidden Cave

         At 4.30 am, our phones beeped. We sprang up, washed, put our possessions together and were in our car at 5.00 am on schedule to start our return drive to Keflavik airport for our 3. 15 pm departure.  We did check the forecast in the US and found that a nor’easter was indeed expected on the east coast—how this would affect our departure from Iceland was anyone’s guess!

         It was pitch dark on the road with not another vehicle in sight as we cruised along for the first hour past the wide barren expanses of snow-drifting wilderness. Occasionally, our car bumped along the road—an indication that snow drifts had caked into ice overnight causing slight protrusions. And then, it happened. 

         Suddenly, somewhere between the town of Vik and the waterfalls known as Skogarfoss, without any warning whatsoever, those flashes of white that we thought were slight snow drifts ballooned into a massive snowstorm. And there were we, in our Ford 4-wheel drive car, surrounded by great swaths of falling snow, winds whipping around our car at over 80 miles per hour and rendering the car a boat as it shook with the force of that gale. In seconds, we lost visibility completely and could not proceed any further as we could see only the blurred headlights of our car creating golden orbs on the road ahead but illuminating nothing. Unable to proceed because he did not know where to go, Llew stopped the car by putting the gear in Park.  He turned the defrost up to the highest level and turned the windshield wipers on to their fastest speed—still no visibility ahead. The fact that the four-foot high pylons, equipped with reflector lights that lined the road, were also swaying in the wind, did nothing for our confidence.  In a little while, there was a glow behind us, but because our rear view mirror was engulfed by snow, we could see nothing. I asked Llew if it was a car behind us and he said he thought it was.  It waited for a while behind us and then after five minutes, just swerved around us and drove away before our disbelieving eyes. As Llew said, it was probably a local driver well experienced at driving under such conditions.

         It was time for us to think about moving forward because (a) we had no idea how long the blizzard would last and we could have been marooned there forever and (b) there was the distinct possibility that just a few miles ahead, we would have gone past the snowstorm. The question was how were to go forward if we could not see a thing in front of us? That’s when we stopped everything and started to pray. We said the prayers upon which we fall back whenever we are in a challenging situation. And then, that done, Llew began slowly inching forward (hence the title of my travelogue—Inching Along Incredible Iceland), literally one wheel rotation at a time as I kept my eyes peeled on the road looking for the slightest indication of the next pylon. When I found it, I would say, “Yes, yes, I see it. I see the light”. But Llew would not move forward until he could see it himself.  Remember, that apart from driving in total blindness, there was the wind to deal with—so while Llew was steering the car in one direction i.e. straight ahead on the road, it seemed to have a mind of its own as it veered left and right, like a drunken sailor measuring the road! If we were to get out of the situation alive, it would only have to be on the strength of a wing and a prayer. Prayers we had already resorted to.  It was time for the wing to appear.

         And appear it did. Through those excruciating twenty minutes, as we inched forward in near blindness, we almost went off the road on the right hand side at one point and came within an inch of hitting a pylon on the other.  And then the wings of an angel appeared.  Another glow of light appeared behind us. Another car? Possibly. Llew and I realized that it stopped right behind us—probably seeing our red tail lights. It waited for about five minutes for us to move forward—for we had stopped again—and then it suddenly rounded our vehicle and pushed forward.  This was the angel that the Lord had sent us in our distress.  As soon as I realized that, I urged Llew to follow the car because not only would it clear a path for us to follow but its red rear lights would guide us forward far more effectively that the reflecting pylons on the road. I know that he was nerve-wracked, but Llew did not show it as he took my advice and followed the car—slowly and keeping safe distance as he did not want to plough into it--but moving, nevertheless, far better than we had done for at least 45 minutes previously. 

         And then, just as quickly and suddenly as it had started, the blizzard ended, the wind sobered down, visibility returned and we were out of the worst of it. Our angel in the car ahead drove on for about ten more miles and then, when we were on safe ground and cruising once again, the driver swung a right and disappeared towards a small section of structures off the highway.  Where had the angel come from? And where was the angel going? We had no idea. All we knew was that in our time of desperation, we had asked for help and were sent a beacon to direct us to safety.  If ever there was a time in my life when I felt as if I was saved by divine intervention, this was it. The experience would remain uppermost in our minds and in our memories and in the many car-driving trips we have undertaken, this would always haunt us. Llew’s entire upper body—his hands, wrists, arms and chest—were aching from the strain of controlling the steering wheel and the vehicle. Needless to say, we were deeply shaken by the experience and could hardly believe that we had survived the ordeal as we proceeded further and daylight slowly began to break behind us in the east.

Stopping off at Seljalandsfoss and Exploring the Hidden Cave of The Gljúfrabúi waterfall (or Gljúfurárfoss):

         Given the rough time we’d had, it was hard to imagine that we could consider breaking journey and stopping to see the hidden cave of which my friend Amy had spoken at Seljalandsfoss. But we talked about it and I told Llew that since he was driving, it was his call to make. We decided to wait and see what driving conditions were like when we actually reached there—which we did about a half hour later.

         Daylight was barely breaking as we turned into the parking lot. We were among the first few visitors of the day for it was about 7.45 am. We parked our car, swung out and decided to give ourselves an hour at the site. Without wasting any time or dallying, we walked towards the main falls where we found another lone young couple taking pictures with a tripod. I told the lady that we were headed to the end of the pathway ahead of us to see a hidden cave that had been recommended by our friend. Since her partner seemed like a photography-enthusiast, I recommended that they join us on the hike.  They seemed unsure at first, but then about ten minutes later, they made up their minds to follow us.

            When we arrived at the end of the path, past a number of minor waterfalls—most of which had crusted over into ice—we saw the stream and the narrow pathway running alongside and ending in what looked like a cave. We also saw the waterfall on the right, thundering over a cliff and disappearing into the cave. These were the Gljúfrabúi waterfall (or Gljúfurárfoss) at Hamragarðar.  At their base was the mysterious cave that we were meant to enter. But it did mean wading into the stream. Fortunately, both Llew and I had waterproof hiking boots on and I was wearing a waterproof coat. However, Llew decided that the excursion was not for him.  He could not tolerate the idea of getting his shoes full of icy water. I, on the other hand, was not to be daunted.  I was going in there and that was it.  However, I must admit that I did not relish the idea of getting in the hidden cave alone!

         That was when Lara (the third one we met on this trip!) appeared—the female of the couple we had suggested should follow us. Andrew, the guy, also wimped out. He would do camera duty, he said, and video me. Lara then decided that she was going in with me. And so there it was! I had a companion for my adventure! Moments later, we skirted the path alongside the rushing stream—a path punctuated by ice floes and patches of snow. But on we soldiered until we reached the mouth of the cave.  At this point, we did need to wade into the stream—it was shallow enough and water did not enter my boots. There were also stepping stones that allowed one to wend one’s way into the cave. The water flowed copiously beneath our feet and as we neared the cave, the thunderous sound of the waterfalls grew in intensity until we were inside the cave and surrounded by gushing voluminous curtains of icy water that sent up sprays of vapor that flew around us in the air.  It was simply awesome! There is no other word to describe the sensation of being in a hidden cave surrounded by waterfalls from a height of at least 30 meters. How sensational was that?

         Lara and I took pictures for each other—but we had to be very careful to keep the spray off our cameras. We were drenched, needless to say, but since we both had on raincoats, we had few worries. The darkness and the flying spray did not make for great pictures but the few we did manage to get capture perfectly our sense of exhilaration at being in that incredible space for about fifteen minutes.

         Then, it was time for us to get back to our waiting guys. Once again, we found stepping stones that guided us slowly back to base. A little water from the stream did enter my boots, but my thick layers of woolen socks did not make it uncomfortable. The guys had taken video and still pictures of us in various stages of our adventure (except in the hidden cave, of course, when they were no longer able to see us). It still amazes me that the two most phenomenal experiences of our entire travels in Iceland occurred on our last day when we were en route to the airport—what are the odds of that ever happening on a trip???

         We did not waste too much time getting back to the parking lot—all the time we chatted with the Morgans, Lara and Andrew, who had become our unwitting partners in crime.  They were visiting from Australia and were at the very start of their adventures in Iceland. We exchanged contact details and swore to email photographs.

         Back in the car, we made our way very comfortably towards Keflavik airport, delighted to have survived the horrors of the snowstorm and thrilled at the sights inside the hidden cave. And so we filled gas in our car, bought food for our lunch and for our flight from Bonus supermarket and arrived at the car rental office to return our car.  Miraculously after everything we had gone through, there was not a scratch on our car—truly the hand of the Lord in evidence! Then we were in the shuttle van driving to the airport and overhearing other passengers talk about their disappointment at not having the Northern Lights despite having spent over 12 days in Iceland.  We felt truly blessed that we had seen them ourselves.

       All that was left was our flight back for which, please see my next post.

The Many Natural Wonders of Eastern Iceland

March 11, Sunday:

The Many Natural Wonders of Eastern Iceland

         Today turned out to be the most varied and the most packed of our days. It was filled with natural wonders, each offering something fascinating and different—waterfalls, black sand beaches, arch-shaped rock formations that jutted out into the swirling sea, undetectable moving tectonic plates, miles and miles of barren, snow-sprinkled wilderness, one-horse towns—literally!

         Awaking in our former school house hotel, we used the shared kitchen to fix ourselves a breakfast of muesli with yogurt and coffee. Then, without wasting too much time, we got into our car and drove deeper into Pingvellir National Park where we reached the Visitors Center and procured maps and instructions on how to find the most important sights.

        

Scouring the Stunning Natural Beauty of Pingvellir National Park:

         Pingvellir National Park is massive, spectacular and thrilling. As we made our way deeper into it, we were struck by rock formations that reminded us of the national parks in Utah and Arizona—only these were snow-streaked while those had glimmered in the unrelenting heat. Ice-covered mountains in the distance and near at hand were stirring to look at. Closer to us, there were speedy rivers, swift streams, and miles and miles of volcanic soil.  The contrast between the white of the snow and the black of the lava deposits were visually stunning.

Alpingi, the Original Icelandic Parliament Site:

         Pingvellir is a very important historic site for the country as the first Parliament was located in this region. The exact spot at which the elders met and debated the burning issues of ancient days is marked by the Icelandic national flag that flies high over the dry river bed where meetings had once taken place and important decisions made. Tourists walk along a pathway in a narrow canyon flanked on both sides by high red columns of stone and rock—slightly reminiscent of the canyon at Petra through which one catches the first glimpse of the Khazana or the Treasury in pink sandstone when in Jordan. The scenery over the park at this point is rugged and very moving.

Shifting Tectonic Plates:

         This is also a point on the continent where the tectonic plates of the two continents of Eurasia and North America are moving—as seen earlier in the Reykjarnes Peninsula. People pose here for pictures with the little village in the background that is beautified by its tiny wooden church. We did not linger too long as we had a lot of ground to cover—literally.  Hence, we did not see the waterfall which is another attraction in this park. On our way out of the park and back on the Ring Road, the main highway that encircles the country, we passed again by the most astonishing landscape. The true beauty of Iceland comes through in this naturally unspoiled region where Nature reigns supreme. There are no signs of human habitation. Hotels are few and far between, signage is kept to the minimum. The combination of mountains, rivers, rocks, ridges, make for a truly marvelous sight and every picture you take is like a postcard.

Next Stop--Seljalandsfoss:

         The great thing about the way Iceland’s Ring Road is constructed is that most of the main tourist attractions are literally right off it. On our travels, the first big attraction upon which we chanced was Seljalandsfoss—by now, we knew that anything ending with ‘foss’ means ‘waterfall’—and, in this case, we could see them right from the highway, about five minutes before we arrived at the parking lot.

         Seljalandsfoss is a towering rush of water that falls from a great height as the Seljalands river (part of the Eyjafjalla glacier or Eujafjallajokull) tumbles over a mountain and makes it way to the sea. It is just a couple of minutes’ walk from the parking lot to the main viewing spot. Because winters are so intense in this part of the world, the tumbling water soon pools at the base where it freezes to create a gigantic stalagmite that slowly grows taller over time. Thus, there are always ice-hills in winter at the base of these waterfalls that give them a completely different look to the ones they would sport in the summertime.

         What is remarkable about this waterfall is the fact that there are about 20 steps leading from the base up into the mountain which visitors can climb in order to walk on a pathway that has been created behind the main falls so that you can photograph them falling like a curtain in front of you. You can then make your way down a twin set of steps on the other side that will bring you back to ground level.  Needless to say, in winter, with snow and ice blocking the path and turning much of it into a skating ledge, access to the steps are blocked off.  Llew and I had actually bought waterproof pants to enable us to participate in this activity as all the blogs I had read on these falls mentioned this walkway behind the falls and the fact that visitors get drenched in them. Well, as it turned out, we never used our waterproof pants on the trip as we were unable to get behind the falls.

         To the left of the main falls is a long, well-defined path that runs alongside a series of smaller, minor falls that also tumble down the cliff.  We saw a lot of visitors walking up and down that path as they took pictures of the main and minor falls from various angles.  But because we still had a lot of venues to see, we elected to move on and into our car we got, off to the next venue. 

         We would come to regret the short visit we paid here (after taking the mandatory pictures ourselves of the main falls) because at the very end of our trip, I received a text message from our friend Amy telling us not to miss the hidden cave that lay at the very end of the path, past all the minor falls, that was the biggest highlight of their travels.  It seems that the cave can be entered and if one accomplishes that, there is the not-to-be-missed experience of being fully surrounded on three sides by thunderous waterfalls. Immediately, Llew and I resolved to try to visit Seljalandsfoss on our way back to Keflavik airport on the last day in order to partake of this incredible experience.

On to Skogafoss:

         Skogafoss too lies right off the Ring Road (Route 1) and can be seen from the highway before one reaches it. In this case, it is the Skogar River that tumbles over a great height to create the dramatic spectacle.  Visitors can walk really close to the base of the cascade at these falls as there was no rope prohibiting entry past a particular point. We posed for pictures and then contemplated whether or not we should attempt to climb the 567 steps leading up to the top of one of the twin cliffs that flanks the falls.  Once they reach that height, visitors can walk along the length of the Skogar river and take in the beauty of pristine scenery as well as get panoramic views out to the ocean. At the base, the full sunlight hitting the spray off the Falls create beautiful fully-arched rainbows which made lovely photographs.

         We decided to sit in our car and eat our lunch--prosciutto and cheese croissant sandwiches that we had purchased from Bonus supermarket and then make up our minds whether or not to climb the cliff.  At the end, Llew decided against it and I went along with his decision. We thought we’d be better off pushing towards the next part of our itinerary.

         En route to the next venue, we passed by a frozen lake on which visitors who had hopped off their bus, were walking very gingerly. And so we drove until, about twenty minutes later, we caught our first sight of the glaciers that we would then continue to see, in quick succession, one after the other along the highway.

         Along the way, we passed by a huge perfectly conical mountain that reminded us of Mount Fuji in Japan.  It turned out to be one of Iceland’s most notorious volcanoes, Hekla—that had caused havoc at several points in history. It glittered under its snowy mantle as the sun’s ray gilded it.  It was hard to believe that something that looked so harmless could, in fact be so destructive. There is a little town close to the volcano named Hekla, but we did not stop at it.

Stopping to Visit Solheimarjokul:

         Since we could not stop at all the glaciers, we decided to pull over at one of them—Solheimarjokul. We saw a couple of tourist buses there and followed the line of visitors walking along the glacier’s sides. It had the lovely blue tint that we had seen on the glaciers at Glacier Bay National Park in Alaska. While we were on our cruise of the Inside Passage, we had merely seen the glaciers; this time, we actually had a chance to walk on them (but we had also walked on glaciers once before on the Columbia Icefields in Jasper in the Canadian Rockies). What is interesting is that we walked along lava soil, created many millennia ago, by the eruption of volcanoes now long dormant. It is the visual contrast of black soil and the soft blueness of white pristine glaciers that is so striking in these parts.

Dramatic Dyrholaey:

         Evening had arrived by the time we reached Dyrholaey (pronounced deer-lay)—the towering promontory overlooking the North Atlantic Ocean. There was a road that led off the Ring Road towards it and we swung a sharp right to take it.  Little did we know what lay ahead. Indeed, it was a feat of driving for Llew who found himself encountering the hairpin curves of a road that snaked ahead, higher and higher up a mountain.  While I, in the passenger seat, could enjoy the stunning views of a distant black sand beach (that turned out to be Reynisfjara Beach, our next port of call), he had to keep his eyes pinned on the road ahead of him. There was loose gravel flying under our car for suddenly the tarred road ended. Our car threw up great clouds of dust behind it as Llew expertly negotiated those curves. About twenty hair-raising minutes later, we reached the crest of the hill and parked our car. At this point, Llew could finally appreciate the view and, believe me, it was stupendous.

         Again, following a path towards a pretty lighthouse and the sprinkling of visitors ahead of us, we arrived at the very edge of the cliff when we finally had a glimpse of the reason why people undertake the challenge of climbing the hill in their cars to get there.  The cliff creates a natural gateway-shaped arch that juts out into the foaming waves below. This was very similar indeed to what is known as Durdle Door in Dorset on England’s Jurassic Coast and it reminded me instantly of my travels in that region of the world.

         In addition to the sight which is majestic, there are the sounds—the booming of the ocean waves and the screeching of thousands of birds—plovers, Arctic terns, seagulls—that make their nests in the crags of the cliffs. Sadly, all the puffins had flown south for the winter—there were none to be seen. The sun was setting behind fairly thick clouds by this time and the earth was endowed by its magically slanted golden rays. Before us there was the drama of the ocean, behind us the backdrop of a red and white lighthouse. On the side of us was the vast stretch of a black sand beach that in its dimensions reminded me of the expanse of Chesil Beach in Dorset when viewed from the heights of Portland. It was simply too visually perfect for words. As I said, I kept making these connections with places I have seen in the past.

         But we could not linger. Because, in all these spots, compelling though they might be, there is always the wind. It is simply the most deterring element of any winter sightseeing in Iceland. It left us itching to get back in our car and drive off as our fingers froze even if they were taken out of our gloves for seconds. And so after we’d had our fill of beautiful picturesque settings, we got back into our car.

         

On to Reynisfjara Beach:

         About fifteen minutes later, the drive along the Ring Road takes one to the black basalt beach close to the town of Vik that is known as Reynisfjara Beach.  Visitors always stop at this site for two reasons: the sand is pitch black, being volcanic—this reminded me very much of Punalu’u Beach in Hawai’i, which we had visited many years ago. Secondly, his beach is fronted by a massive cliff that towers behind it—very similar to the cliff at West Bay in Dorset that became the stirring backdrop for the British TV serial Broadchurch. The only difference is that while the West Bay cliff is golden, this cliff on Reynisfjara Beach is pitch black—being, of course, the result of an ancient volcanic eruption.

         What is also singular about this beach is that at the base of the cliff, wind, water and soil erosion over millennia have created black basalt pole-like formations—that resemble the pipes of a gigantic church organ. As for me, I was reminded of the black basalt rock formations of the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland—another big tourist draw there. It was incredible to me, as the day wore on, how many similarities I found between natural wonders I had seen in the past and what I was experiencing in Iceland. It was quite uncanny indeed.

         Also jutting out of the ocean were rock formations to which Nordic legends have contributed interesting interpretations: they were the remnants of two giants and their ship that had tried to cross the ocean but failed. I recalled that in Northern Ireland too, at the Giant’s Causeway, there was a legend associated with Irish folk lore about Finn McCool, a giant (after whom the area its name) who tried to cross the ocean to get over to the woman he loved across the ocean.  Visitors took a lot of pictures, as did we, of the sea, the basalt columns that partly resembled crumpled corrugated sheeting or a hand organ (concertina) to me.

The Search for our Next Hotel—Skammidalur Guest House:

    Leaving Reynisfjara beach at about 6.00 pm, we began our search for our next hotel as we had reached the end of a significant day of sightseeing and were quite ready to relax the evening away. Only, we had the worst time trying to find it. Once again, the address we had was very sketchy and it simply would not come up on our GPS. We ended up in the little town of Vik where we stopped at a gas station to try to find the place (that had been listed on Air B&B). We did eventually get there, but not before we stopped at two or three really deserted farm houses filled with horses in one case and sheep in the other to try to find a human presence. Eventually, we arrived at Skammidalur Guest House where we found our hostess Lara (the second Lara we met on our travels) who showed us to our room (also with a lovely picture window), the shared bath and kitchen and told us to ring a bell if we needed any assistance. It was a very nice place, filled with American tourists from California and Texas and British ones from Ireland and England. And there was no beating our view. Sadly, the evening rapidly turned foggy and although we were aware that the beach and the sea were right ahead of us, we could see almost nothing. 

         It was time to take showers, have a drink in our rooms, go into the kitchen to fix ourselves sandwich dinners and then have an early night.

        Until tomorrow....goodnight.