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.

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.