For those of you that don’t know me well enough, I’m a metalhead. Basically, I listen to a lot of heavy metal music. These day’s my music taste has expanded well beyond just metal, but for over a decade various sub-genres of metal have always been my go to style of music. That being said, in 2018, I had the chance to attend Wacken Open Air, the world biggest heavy metal festival, and this post is all about my journey there, to the promised land.
Where it all began
My journey into the world of heavy guitar riffs, blast-beats and various forms of intense vocalizations begins during my teens. Funnily enough it wasn’t during the eight years I attended music school, but just after, when I got into high school.
I remember the first metal song that really caught my ear and made me headbang was Feuer Frei by Rammstein. That, because it was played in the intro for the first Triple X movie—an action packed, over the top spy movie with Vin Diesel and a badass soundtrack.
Around the same time, I gained access to a friend’s hard drive that had a bunch of Rammstein songs, as well as some other metal bands like Nightwish. These two bands kicked off my love and interest for this genre of music, and ever since, I never stopped listening and exploring for new bands.
Attending Symphony X concerts—my nr.1 favorite band to date—Denmark 2016 and 2019
A couple of years into my metalhead journey I stumbled upon a YouTube recap video about Wacken 2005—a metal festival in Germany with a badass lineup. I absolutely fell in love with the songs and presentation. I kept replaying it multiple times and showing it to my likeminded friends. For me, it became the pinnacle of “metalhood” to one day be able to attend such a glorious event.
Autumn 2017
Fast forward more than a decade, I had just graduated from my Masters program at the University of Copenhagen. While chatting with one of my friends and colleagues, Christian, the subject of Wacken came up. Christian was also a big metalhead and he had attended the festival before. More importantly, he was planning to go the next year.
Christian and I practicing our angry faces
This was my chance! I’d finally have the funds to do it, a friend to go with and I’d be closer than ever if I were to stay in Denmark in 2018. Now normally the tickets for this festival sell out within the first days, or weeks of announcement. We were already past one month, but somehow, through some miracle there were still tickets available.
I immediately locked in my ticket. Soon enough I received my complementary Wacken 2018 T-shirt and was ready to start the count down to the big date!
Summer 2018
It was now 2018 and there were only a few months left until the start of Wacken Open Air in August. Around the beginning of summer I had a crazy idea to further enhance my holiday plans for the summer. I don’t know if it was nostalgia or what that lead me to it, but I looked up the location and website for EUGEN, which was going to be held in Austria. So I thought, why not turn this into a double whammy and attend both Wacken and Eugen in the same holiday.
Around the same time Christian told me that he couldn’t go to Wacken after all because of a wedding he had to attend. This was a big bummer as now I had nobody to go with. He did however put me in contact through a Facebook group with a bunch of his friends attending the festival. These guys and gals were regular Wacken veterans that would go each year. Most of them Danish, but also some from the UK. Fast forward through the summer and it was time to depart for Germany.
Waiting for the train to Germany in Kolding
Without a car, getting to the festival was not exactly straightforward. The cheapest option I had was to take a series of trains across Denmark and northwestern Germany. Thus I traveled across the Nordic country, from Copenhagen to Kolding and then south to the German town of Itzehoe.
Arrival
Each time I swapped trains, inching ever closer to my destination, I saw more and more black-shirted long-haired men and women with big backpacks. That was one way to tell I was on the right path. On one of the trains, I made friends with a Brazilian couple that were also heading to the festival. We were soon making plans to meet up and hang out in the following days.
The last leg of the journey was a bus ride from Itzehoe train station to the festival grounds, located on a farmland next to the village of Wacken, 12 km from Itzehoe.
The last leg of the journey: The Wacken-Bus
On arrival, the hilly landscape hides the true extent of the festival. I followed the line of attendees to registry booths excitedly taking in my new surroundings. The lines were huge, but the organizers were pretty efficient, so the waiting wasn’t too bad. They handed me my ticket, goodie bag and map of the festival grounds.
When I was finished, I climbed the last hill and finally laid my eyes on the holy grounds. It was massive!
There was a sea of thousands of tents and motorhomes stretching as far as the eyes could see. Somewhere far away I could see the stage area. I was shocked and awed at the sheer size of it. It was exhilarating! However, it dawned on me that finding my group in this maze would prove very challenging. To make matters worse, my phone’s battery had just died.
Walking through the festival grounds
My only option was to navigate to the commercial stalls in the center of the labyrinth, where the map said I would find power outlets.
Navigating the maze
While walking around, trying to find my way to the center, I kept thinking of how on earth I would find a group that I’ve never even met in that sea of people. Amid the vast crowds, there would usually be a country’s flag, flying above a group of tents. That was one thing I could look out for… One of many Danish flags. Worst case scenario I thought, if I couldn’t find my guys by nightfall I would just walk up to a group I spotted with a Hungarian flag and try to befriend them.
The main boulevard with merch shops and food stalls
After around 20 minutes of walking, I got to the central part, filled with bars, food stalls, merch-shops and more. I franticly searched and asked around for power outlets and WiFi connection. They were much harder to find than I thought. In my frustration, I ended up chatting to a guy, Lukas, who was using a storage locker. Turns out the lockers had power outlets in them. However, the line for renting one was huge!
Friendly metalheads
Lukas was kind enough to let me use his outlet to charge my phone and invited me to have a beer with him and his dad in the meantime. Turned out he was a German game developer living in Finland and working on Cities: Skylines a famous video game I had played. Such a small world… We hung out for half an hour exchanging stories and contact information so we could meet up again.
As the sun began to set, I bid farewell to Lukas and his dad and reached out to my Danish group. I got one of them on the phone and explained where I was. With a raspy drunken voice he gave me a bunch of directions to follow to reach them.
Nightfall at Wacken Open Air
Darkness was setting in and finding my way became very difficult. After another 30 minutes of stumbling around, I see this long haired blonde guy on the phone waving franticly at me. I wave back and rush to him and we hug like we’ve been friends for life. I had found my group!
Wacken Open Air
Stretching across 240 hectares, with around 85,000 attendees and 200 bands and another 5,000 staff members, Wacken Open Air felt more like a city then a festival. There was the central area I mentioned with all the stores, stalls and entertainment venues and next to it were the stage areas. A total of ten stages, with two humongous ones and several medium to smaller ones. All of this surrounded by vast camping grounds.
First morning, waking up and ready to head out!
Beyond the music, Wacken Open Air offers themed areas such as the Wackinger Village, featuring medieval markets and performances, and the Wasteland, inspired by post-apocalyptic themes. The festival also emphasizes sustainability through initiatives like the Green Wacken program, which includes the use of electric vehicles and encourages eco-friendly practices among attendees.
Lemmy the Legend, forever immortalized
There was so much to do and see on the festival grounds that I was literally overwhelmed. I remember I had one particular day with a lot of must see bands lined up. I spent most of that day out in the stage areas, only taking half an hour break to go eat or drink something. After a whole day of walking, standing, jumping, singing and drinking in the sun, I was absolutely shot. Come midnight and my last concert, I was so exhausted I could have easily collapsed and fell asleep at the concert.
The daily crowds congregating around the main stages
Speaking of drinking, a fun little fact is that the festival has a dedicated beer pipeline capable of delivering 10,000 liters per hour directly to the main bar areas in the Infield. Total beer consumption during the entire festival is estimated to exceed 400,000 liters over the 3-4 days of the event.
Weather and organization
The weather at Wacken can range from a stormy, wet, muddy mess to a scorching hot dessert climate. During the rainy years, the holy ground turns into a literal mud pit with mud fights and a lot of headaches for attendees with vehicles. Yet, this doesn’t stop anyone from thoroughly enjoying the festival and having a blast, in big part thanks to the preparedness and quick reactions from the organizers.
Behemoth concert in the scorching late afternoon heat
In 2018 we got the complete opposite. A whole week of hot sunny summer weather. The nights and mornings were nice and cool, but the days could become unbearably hot with temperatures exceeding 30° C. With the high temperatures came the risk of heatstroke, yet once more the organizers were well prepared with plenty of public showers, drinkable water fountains and shaded areas. They would even have groups of staff hosing down walkers during the scorching afternoon hours.
I don’t even know what this was but it looked cool
Another issue with a hot and dry festival ground was the dust. While the campgrounds were covered in grass, the central part where crowds gathered was just dirt. So with the swarm of people walking around all day, it created a constant dust cloud encompassing the core of the festival grounds. Glasses were a must and a lot of people wore bandanas and hats too. In any case, by the end of each day I had dust flowing out of every orifice. It felt like metalheads invading the wild wild west.
The mood and the people
To put it simply, the mood at Wacken was nothing short of EPIC. The friendliness and camaraderie were incredible. As with my example meeting Lukas, it was so easy to just start a conversation with anyone and end up befriending them. Speaking of Lukas, I met up with him later during the festival to check out the Wackinger Village and drink some mead.
Hanging out with my group of crazies
I also met and hung out a lot with a Norwegian guy, Knut, that we adopted into our camping group. Him and I had a lot of similar tastes in music so we attended quite a few concerts together. Then there was the day that Knut disappeared. Apparently wandering off into the magical plains of northwestern Germany after smoking some strong stuff. He teleported back into his tent somehow the next day.
Then there was my group of crazy Danish guys. I’ve never seen human beings drink as much as they had in such a short time span. They had pretty much brought with them an entire liquor store’s worth of booze. They also had this weird bong-like plastic pipe thingamajig called “Shafty”, that the hardcore ones would drink from and get totaled.
Laughing and drinking all day and night
One of the guys, Mark, was quite the Wacken celebrity too. He had a recurring act of dressing up in a Santa Claus outfit during certain concerts and he even got shout outs from bands like Alestorm. It was a wild, wild bunch. Crazy fun guys!
Drinking, Eating and Chilling
Whenever not at the stages, we’d either be chilling with a drink in our hand, or on our snack-break. The options for both were plentiful on the festival grounds. There was a great variety of food stalls to go around and while not cheap, the prices were not terribly high. There were also other options outside of the festival grounds. The nearby village of Wacken had plenty of restaurants and diners for a much needed hardy breakfast after a night of heavy drinking.
A great place for a hardy egg and sausage breakfast, with beer of course
For those extra hot days, there was also a public swimming pool not far from the festival grounds. One of the unbearably hot afternoons we drove over there to cool off. The place was packed to the brim. I just blindly followed my group all the way atop the main pool’s trampoline. However, once I got up there I remembered I’m really not a fan of heights.
The Wacken flame shines bright into the night
I had to wait for the person below to clear the area while my brain was kicking into panic mode. Not wanting to give it a second more, I rushed to the edge and jumped like an awkward gimp and landed like a sack of potatoes. It must’ve looked ridiculous, but boy did it feel good.
Final thoughts
Wacken Open Air was an unforgettable experience. It was everything I hoped for and more. Aside from the impressive lineup of bands and the various activities to keep myself constantly entertained, it was the feeling of brotherhood that really stuck with me. The feeling that even though we are nearly a hundred thousand strangers from all over the world gathering in this one spot, united by our love for music, we were all part of this one huge family of metalheads.
A proud member of the greater global metalhead family
Honestly, my only regret about Wacken was that due to my plan to travel to Austria for the yearly EUGEN event, I had to shorten my stay and missed out on the last epic night of the festival. Unfortunate as it was, I was convinced that this was not my last Wacken. I would surely come back again.
In fact, as I am writing this, the nostalgia is so strong that I can’t help but start planning a return to the holy grounds of metal the next year!
The first half of 2018 was rather uneventful. I was unemployed and spent most of my time searching for jobs. I was also busy with an internship during this period and it wasn’t until early summer that I took some time to go out on a few travels and adventures. That’s not to say that the spring was completely dull.
GEUS
As mentioned in my previous post I had managed to secure an internship at GEUS (The Geological Survey of Denmark and Greenland), which I hoped would lead into a temporary work contract. Unfortunately, due to budget constraints it never did, but my time there was well spent.
I learned about fluid inclusions in minerals and eventually wrote a protocol for them on the subject. I also got to travel to Aarhus for a day trip to network and learn from one of Denmark’s foremost experts. On top of that, I got to collaborate with and befriend one of the coolest researchers I had met, the head of the LA-ICP-MS lab and my boss at GEUS, Tonny Thomsen.
A gloomy day of March in Aarhus, Denmark (2018)
Whenever I met someone new in my field of work, I would inquire about potential job opportunities. Despite my efforts, nothing materialized. Not that people weren’t interested in working with me, but there was always a timing, or money issue.
It seemed like I was stuck being unemployed for now. Nonetheless, I carried on with my search. Broadening my horizons outside of Denmark. I began applying for research projects in Germany, Belgium, the UK and sometimes the occasional project outside of Europe.
Off the coast of Zealand, Denmark
As the weather improved late in the spring, it brought back good memories of long cycling trips from the year before. I yearned to take a break and go out and explore again, so I convinced my flat-mate to join me on a day’s cycling trip to the chalky cliffs of Stevns Klint.
Stevns Klint
On a mid-May’s sunny day, we took the S-train to Køge, south of Copenhagen, and then hopped on our bikes for the rest of the 1.5 hour journey. Less memorable than the coastal road to Helsingør, the route to Stevns Kilnt took us across endless farmlands and a couple of small villages. Even if the trip there was rather dull, the destination more than made up for it.
Arriving at Højerup, a small town nearest to Stevns Klint
Located on the eastern coast of Zealand, Stevns Klint is a stunning 15-kilometer-long white chalk cliff that doesn’t just offer breathtaking views, but holds a story that changed the history of life on Earth. Recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, this cliff is one of the most scientifically important locations in the world for understanding the mass extinction that wiped out the dinosaurs.
Where dinosaurs met their end
What makes Stevns Klint so unique is a thin, dark layer of clay found within its layers of chalk and limestone. Known as the “fish clay”, this band is rich in iridium, a rare element more commonly found in asteroids than on Earth. This thin layer marks the Cretaceous-Paleogene (K-Pg) boundary, about 66 million years ago, and provides compelling evidence that a giant asteroid struck Earth – the same event believed to have triggered the extinction of nearly 75% of all species, including the non-avian dinosaurs.
The chalky cliffs at Stevns Klint
As you can imagine, the cliff is a paradise for geologists and paleontologists. My flat-mate, also a geologist was ecstatic. Before moving to Denmark he worked as a paleontologist on a research project in Romania. This was right up his alley.
The fish clay-extinction band running along the side of the cliff
Fossils preserved in the chalk layers above and below the iridium-rich boundary reveal a vivid picture of life before and after the impact. Tiny marine organisms like foraminifera show a sharp decline right at the boundary, offering one of the clearest extinction markers in the world. Scientists continue to study Stevns Klint to understand not only how life vanished but also how it rebounded in the aftermath.
Bonus modern attractions
Surprisingly enough, Stevns Klint isn’t just about ancient history. The geological features of the cliff weren’t news to me, but as we discovered the area also had stories from more recent times. Perched dramatically at the cliff’s edge is Højerup Church, a medieval church built around 1250. At the time located safely inland, but over the centuries inching ever closer to the edge due to relentless erosion of the cliff.
Højerup Church
For generations, the local legend warned that the cliff was retreating, inch by inch. In fact, there’s a Danish saying: “The church moves one cock-step closer to the sea every Christmas Eve.” While poetic, that warning became very real on March 16, 1928, when a large section of the cliff collapsed, taking the entire eastern part of the structure with it. Immediately decommissioned for religious services, the locals rallied to preserve what remained of the church.
The back of Højerup Church inching towards the sea
Beneath the cliffs, hidden in the limestone, is another surprise attraction. Namely the Stevnsfort Cold War Museum, a once-secret fortress built to withstand nuclear attacks during the Cold War.
Stevnsfort
Built in 1953, at the height of Cold War tensions, Stevnsfort was part of NATO’s front line defense. Its strategic location on the coast of Zealand gave it a commanding view over the Øresund Strait, a crucial naval passage between the Baltic Sea and the North Sea. The fortress was designed to help detect and, if necessary, halt Soviet warships attempting to reach Western Europe.
Rocket artillery pieces on display in the museum courtyard
For decades, the site was fully operational and highly classified. It wasn’t until the early 2000’s that the base was officially decommissioned and turned into a museum. Even as a museum it’s so hidden from sight that we didn’t notice it until we were leaving Stevns Klint. Only then did the huge tank and rocket artillery on display in the courtyard catch my eye, spurring me to investigate.
Nothing like posing with the Centurion MBT in your cycling gear…
Unfortunately though, it was fairly late in the afternoon and we wouldn’t have had time for a proper visit before closing time. That’s one attraction I regret never taking the time to go back to while still living in Denmark.
Day trip to Sweden
A couple of months later, my friends and I were preparing for another excursion. I don’t recall how and why we decided on this, but we were basically going to visit Malmö in Sweden for half a day.
Located just across the Øresund strait from Copenhagen, Malmö is the third largest city on Sweden and the largest city in the southernmost province of Skåne. The two cities are linked by one of Europe’s most impressive feats of engineering, the Øresund bridge.
The Øresund bridge on a muggy morning, seen from the Danish side
Opened in 2000, this impressive structure not only connected the two Nordic cities, but also formed a vital artery between Scandinavia and the rest of Europe. Spanning approximately 16 kilometers in total, the crossing combines a 7.8 km cable-stayed bridge with a 4 km underwater tunnel, joined in the middle by an artificial island named Peberholm. Accommodating both a 4-lane motorway and a dual-track railway, the bridge has become a cultural icon, famously featured in Nordic noir television and admired for its sleek design and ambitious scale.
The Øresundståg train, was the most convenient option for us. You can board it at several stations on the Danish side, including Copenhagen Central, Nørreport, Østerport stations, as well as Kastrup at Copenhagen Airport. The ride lasted about 40 minutes from downtown Copenhagen. Before we knew it we were already in Sweden.
Malmö
Once an industrial port town, Malmö has undergone a drastic transformation into a modern, eco-conscious city. So much so that it has taken the top on the list of Europe’s greenest cities.
Walking around Malmö
One of the most striking symbols of Malmö’s reinvention is the Turning Torso, a twisting skyscraper designed by Santiago Calatrava, which towers over the city’s redeveloped Western Harbour (Västra Hamnen). This area, once a shipyard, is now a model for sustainable urban living, featuring energy-efficient buildings, green spaces, and a popular seaside promenade.
The Turning Torso skyscraper in Malmö
Close encounter of the green kind
Malmö is also known for its strong tradition of activism and social engagement. It has long been a politically progressive city, often leaning left in Sweden’s political spectrum. It has a history of grassroots organizing and is home to numerous NGOs, cultural centers, and activist groups advocating for equality, justice, and environmental sustainability. I bring this up because even during our short visit we ran across activists engaging with people on the streets.
Dude just casually kite surfing the canals in Malmö
In our case, it was a vocal group advocating for veganism to combat animal cruelty and industrial farming through reduction of meat consumption. As much as we sympathized with the cause, we were not really the right target audience for their campaign, as at least at the time, we were all uncompromising meat-eaters. This lead to a few snarky remarks and “troll-face” exchanges, which the activists were not pleased with.
We weren’t there to please them, of course, just to explore and have a bit of fun, even if it meant rolling our eyes at a few preachy, virtue-signaling activists parading their self-fed moral superiority for all to admire.
Old town
Despite its modernity, Malmö still honors its historical roots. The medieval Stortorget and Lilla Torg squares are nestled among charming cobblestone streets in the old town, while landmarks like St. Peter’s Church offer a glimpse into the city’s rich past.
Statue of Karl X Gustav in Stortorget
The architecture in this area showcases the city’s rich history, with a blend of Renaissance, Baroque, and Neo-Gothic styles, similar to Copenhagen’s historic center. The nearby Malmöhus Castle, a Renaissance fortress now housing museums and exhibitions, stands as a testament to centuries of regional history.
Ready to go home after a day of exploring Malmö
After walking around the harbor and central areas for a few hours, we plopped down in the city’s main square and soaked in the afternoon sun. With a pleasant day of city-exploring behind us, we were ready to head back to the train station and Copenhagen.
During late November, 2017, while I was routinely scrolling through my Facebook feed, a random ad post caught my eye. It was from DFDS, a Danish international shipping and logistics company, and read something like “The cheapest ferry ride ever”, roundtrip from Copenhagen to Oslo.
With a raised eyebrow, and high skepticism I decided to check it out on their website and, it was indeed legit. Copenhagen to Oslo, round trip on selected dates within the next couple of weeks for 2 DKK… I repeat, TWO KRONER… That’s less than a dollar!
Full moon spontaneity
This was one of those rare opportunities for a spontaneous adventure that I couldn’t pass up. However, I hoped to get at least one of my friends on board to go with. This wasn’t the easiest thing to do as most of my friends were working at the time and couldn’t, or wouldn’t just want to suddenly take time off. Having recently graduated, I had the “luxury” of still being unemployed. Luckily, there was at least one other person I could think of in a similar boat.
None other than Eddy, my Nigerian colleague and close friend from KU who had also recently graduated and was job-searching. I quickly reached out to him with a proposal to take a break from the mundane and to join me on the cheapest ferry ride ever.
Setting sail
Within a week or so, Eddy and I were ready to embark on our dirt cheap journey to Norway. The ferry departs daily at 16:40 from Copenhagen and arrives in Oslo the next morning at around 10:00. It stays in port until around the same time in the afternoon before returning to Copenhagen. To keep to the theme of cheapest trip ever, both of us made sure to pack enough sandwiches to last us through the outbound journey.
Nordhavn, Copenhagen, before departure
Once on board, we left our things in our cabin in the bowels of the ship and rushed up and out onto the deck to enjoy the view; and what a view it was… Since it was around early December, it was already nightfall by the time we were supposed to leave. Copenhagen’s lights glimmered and shined against the fading hues of the late sunset, their reflections dancing over the dark, rippling waters.
Not long after, the ship began to slowly drift away from the shore. As we floated away, the bay of Nordhavn offered some excellent photo opportunities that I couldn’t pass up. The downside was that the chilly wind and ship’s movements made it hard to get a clean shot since my camera didn’t have stabilizer.
Eddy and I, ready to set sail
After leaving Copenhagen behind, we returned to our rooms to warm up and rest. This was my first time traveling on a big ship and I was curious if and how the rocking motion would affect me. For the first hours of the trip we could barely feel any movement. Eddy fell asleep and I sat in my bed reading and doom-scrolling through my phone.
The Kattegat sea
A couple of hours into our trip, the rocking had begun. It was very subtle at first, especially while laying in bed, but I noticed that I’d constantly have to reposition myself as I kept sliding off the bed. The novelty of this excited me and I immediately got up to go topside.
Old photos of ferry ships of the DFDS fleet on display
We had now left the calm waters of the Øresund strait and were sailing into the much more turbulent Kattegat sea. As I walked towards the deck, the rocking was way more prevalent. It wasn’t bad by any means, but it felt and looked as if everyone on the ship was a bit drunk. Once I got out, I was instantly hit by rushing cold winds and water droplets from the waves smashing into the side of the hull.
It felt bad enough that I didn’t want to get anywhere near the handrails. Instead, I kept close to the walls and enjoyed the raw elements battering our ship in the night from a safe distance. I was also pleasantly relieved that I didn’t feel any motion sickness. In fact the entire night trip was quite pleasant and I think all that rocking even helped put me to sleep faster.
Arriving in Oslo
When we got up the next morning, we finished our sandwiches and rushed back up onto the deck to be greeted by the sights of the Oslofjord.
Sailing through the Oslofjord
Sailing past residential and industrial buildings scattered across the surrounding hills, our ship slowly but surely made its way along the fjord and into the port of Oslo. As we turned to dock, one building in particular stuck out with its bold, modern, angular shape. Namely the Oslo Opera House, situated in Oslo harbor.
Oslo Opera House looking like an iceberg
After disembarking, Eddy and I wandered off into the busy streets of the city for a day of sightseeing.
Oslo
Arriving in Oslo feels like stepping into a city that balances its rich past with a crisp, modern energy. The Norwegian capital, founded over a thousand years ago during the Viking Age, has grown from a medieval trading post into a vibrant waterfront city. Walking along the harbor at Aker Brygge, you can see sleek new buildings standing beside old wooden piers, where merchant ships once unloaded goods from across Europe.
Oslo harbor from the ship’s deck
Heading inland, we followed the wide, clean streets past the striking Oslo City Hall, a huge red-brick building famous for hosting the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony. Its twin towers loom above the harbor, decorated with murals and carvings that tell stories of Norway’s seafaring and working-class roots. From there, the city begins to open up.
Oslo City Hall (Rådhus)
Crossing into the city center, we passed through the People’s Theater (Folketeateret), an art deco building that once hosted grand operas and plays, and today holds concerts and modern performances under its stately old signage.
Folketeatret, also home to a weird sculpture of Kate Moss in a yoga position, among other things
As we continued along some of the side streets, we came across this amusing giraffe mural on one of the buildings, its long neck and goofy-looking face resembling ET the extraterrestrial.
ET the giraffe
After about an hour of strolling through the streets, we arrived at the The Royal Palace (Det kongelige slott), located at the end of Karl Johans gate, the main boulevard of the city. Built between 1824 and 1848, the palace is the official residence of the Norwegian monarch.
Ain’t nothing like being back in Norway!
Standing as a historic landmark, the royal residence was originally built for King Charles III John, the first king of Norway after the country gained independence from Denmark.
Jul i Vinterland
Heading back from The Royal Palace, we passed by the central part of the University of Oslo’s historic campus and the Norwegian parliament building. It was around noon, so we were on the lookout for a cheap place to grab a bite. Not something easy to find in the center of Oslo.
University of Oslo building in the city center
As we strolled along Karl Johans gate, we came across “Jul i Vinterland”, Oslo’s largest and most iconic Christmas market. Located in Spikersuppa, a city square between the National Theatre and the Royal Palace, the enchanting market transforms the heart of the city into a festive wonderland each winter.
Oslo’s Christmas market
At the center of the market was an open-air ice skating rink, free for all to enjoy. Surrounded by twinkling lights and festive music, it provided a perfect setting for skating enthusiasts and families alike. Various amusement rides dotted the square, including a 40-meter-high Ferris wheel providing panoramic views of the city.
Food and drink stalls at Jul i Vinterland
All across the square bustling stalls offered a variety of gifts, clothing, toys, and culinary delights. We couldn’t pass up the chance to enjoy a cup of gløgg (mulled wine) while we were there.
Nothing like a cup of gløgg on a cold December day
As we stood there in the cool outdoors enjoying our hot beverage, the first snowflakes of the season started coming down, marking the start of winter. Even if it barely lasted a few minutes, it was just such a perfectly hygge moment… Being back in Norway and enjoying a hot drink in a festive atmosphere with one of my dearest friends while witnessing the first snowfall of the end of 2017.
Oslo harbor and heading back home
After leaving the market, we found a reasonably priced place to have a quick lunch and then made our way back to the harbor. We strolled around there for another hour, or two until it was time to head back to the ferry.
The Diver (Dykkaren) located along the harbor promenade
This was now my third time visiting Norway and thus far each of my visits had these memorable “feel good” moments that I will never forget. Be it the peaceful solitude of the lonely mountain high above the fjords in Borgund, the vivid sunset reddening the sky in Jostedalsbreen National Park, or the first snowfall at Oslo’s cozy Christmas market.
There was definitely something special about this country for me. Something that kept calling me back. Whether this would lead to a more permanent move there in the future was anyone’s guess. For the moment, it was time to head back home to Denmark.
Adios Oslo. Until next time!
That night on the ferry, Eddy and I decided to dine out on the ship. Even if a bit pricey, after this incredibly cheap little holiday we felt we deserved a little indulging. Plus, this was my way poor-man’s way of paying back DFDS for this awesome opportunity that basically cost nothing.
A delicious steak and beer dinner on the ferry
While enjoying our steaks and fancy beers, I kept thinking of if and when will the day come that an experience like dining out on a ship won’t feel like indulging in a once in a lifetime financial expense. Will there ever be a time when I can just enjoy things without constantly looking at the costs? Maybe… Hopefully.
Hoisting up the Danish flag. We’re coming home!
The next morning, while we were back sailing in the calm Øresund strait towards Copenhagen, I was out on the deck looking out at the horizon, wondering what the future holds. Even with all the ups and downs of life, and constant financial difficulties, as long as the good stories and adventures kept flowing, life was pretty darn good and worthwhile.
My main objective in 2017 was finishing my Masters thesis. It was going to be a highly work-intensive year with no plans to travel abroad. Cycling had always helped me relax and clear my mind in the past. So in my attempts to cope with the stress and mental fatigue of a demanding year, 2017 would turn out to be a year of cycling and exploring Eastern Denmark.
Cycling: The solution to everything
After moving to Farum at the end of 2016, I was heavily reliant on the Danish S-trains to get into Copenhagen for work. Luckily the trains were fitted with plenty of bicycle areas so passengers could bring their bikes aboard. However, things would get very chaotic during rush hours when the train would be absolutely packed with bike-wielding people. If you were unfortunate enough to be stuck in the middle, you’d have no chance of getting out in time for your stop.
Late winter in the Danish forests
To avoid the nuisance of train chaos, I began cycling back home, instead of taking the S-train. Cycling the 20 km distance would take me just around 30 minutes extra, but it would be much more rewarding. Especially on a beautiful sunset evening with good weather!
Cycling also became my solution to keeping up my gym routine. Farum didn’t have a FitnessDK gym, which I was a member of, and I wouldn’t always want to go all the way to Copenhagen just to work out. Instead, I would cycle to the nearby village of Birkerød. Thus Farum-Birkerød became another regular cycling route.
An old friend
A few months into the year, a close friend of mine from my undergrad years decided to move to Denmark for a fresh start. At around the same time, my old flat-mate was moving out, so my friend Cipri moved in in his place. I had really talked up the Danish cycling culture to him and he was keen on getting into it.
Throughout the year we did several long day rides across the island of Zealand. From Helsingør and Hillerød, to as far as Steven’s Klint in the south and Gilleleje at the top north of eastern Denmark.
Cipri and I on our Helsingør cycling trip
Our first big cycling trip of the year was Copenhagen to Helsingør and then back to Farum. A respectable 85 to 90 km ride that would take us the better part of the day.
A gorgeous day trip to Helsingør
We set out on our big cycling trip on the 20th of May. It was a gorgeous sunny day. Nice and warm with a constant gentle breeze. We took the S-train to Østerport and started cycling from there. The reason I didn’t want to start from Farum was to show Cipri the beautiful coastal road heading up north from Copenhagen.
A great day for water activities and biking along the coast
Starting off with the beautiful neighborhoods at the outskirts of the Copenhagen, the road passed by my old “sanctuary” at Charlottenlund beach park. After passing the last vestige of outer-Copenhagen at Klampenborg, the road followed along the eastern edge of the beautiful, forested Deer Park.
Danish peer in the foreground, Swedish coast in the background
Occasionally losing sight of the coast, the road to Helsingør, continued north with intermittent beaches and marinas on the Øresund straight. Given the beautiful weather that day, a rarity in Denmark, the seawaters were filled sailboats and various other pleasure-crafts.
Sailboat on the Øresund
For the next stretch, the road would cross several wealthy coastal small towns and neighborhoods, offering endless appealing sights to admire. This was by far my favorite cycling route in Denmark.
Helsingør
After a few hours of cycling we had arrived at Helsingør. The coastal road now continued along the Helsingør harbor and waterfront. There, daily ferries connect Helsingør to Helsingborg (Sweden) across the narrowest part of the Øresund straight. Once a key maritime trade hub, the harbor now blends history with modern attractions, featuring lively promenades, seafood restaurants, and cultural landmarks like the Culture Yard (Kulturværftet).
Helsingør harbor and the ferry to Helsingborg
Continuing along the coast, we stumbled upon a curious sculpture. Known as the “Garbage Fish” it was created in 2014 by Japanese artist Hideaki Shibata from plastic waste collected from the sea. The sculpture serves as a powerful reminder of the environmental impact of marine debris and emphasizes the importance of recycling and waste management.
The colorful Garbage Fish. A landmark in Helsingør
Further along the waterworks, we reached Helsingør top attraction and my destination point for the day: Kronborg Castle.
The history of Kronborg Castle
Designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Kronborg Castle is one of the most famous Renaissance castles in Europe. Tthe castle is renowned for its role in Shakespeare’s Hamlet and its strategic location controlling the Øresund Strait. With a rich history spanning over 600 years, Kronborg has been a royal residence, military fortress, and cultural landmark.
Kronborg Castle courtyard from the top floor
The site of Kronborg Castle was originally home to Krogen, a medieval fortress built in the early 15th century by King Eric of Pomerania. Its purpose was to enforce the Sound Toll, a tax on ships passing through the Øresund Strait, making it a crucial part of Denmark’s economy. The revenue from this toll contributed significantly to the Danish crown’s wealth for centuries.
The row of cannons along the battlements pointed towards the Øresund Strait
A grand Renaissance castle
In the late 16th century, King Frederick II ordered the transformation of Krogen into a grand Renaissance castle, renaming it Kronborg. Influenced by Dutch and Flemish architectural styles, the new structure featured ornate towers, decorative facades, and elegant interiors. Under Frederick II, Kronborg became one of the most splendid castles in Northern Europe and a symbol of Denmark’s power.
Dining table in one of the many rooms at Kronborg
In 1629, a massive fire broke out, destroying much of the castle’s interior. However, the outer walls remained intact, allowing King Christian IV to rebuild it in a similar style. The new interiors were less extravagant but retained the fortress’s grandeur.
Holger Danske, the eternal protector of Denmark in Danish folklore
In 1658, Kronborg was captured by Swedish forces during the Dano-Swedish War. Though they plundered the castle’s valuables, it was later returned to Danish control. Over time, Kronborg evolved into a military barracks, housing soldiers for nearly 200 years until 1857, when it ceased military operations and was restored as a cultural landmark.
Sights and thoughts
The fortress boasts around 40 rooms that are open for visitors, as well as the dungeon. The rooms range from royal dining rooms and bedrooms to game rooms and study rooms. The Chapel remains as one of the best preserved parts of Kronborg and the only section that survived the devastating 1629 fire untouched.
Kronborg inner courtyard and clock tower
The dungeon bellow offered its own interesting story, from casemates to beer cellars. our tour guide told us about how Danish soldiers of old would drink several beer a day instead of water because the water was so polluted. A hardy bunch!
View of Helsingør harbor from the castle tower
On top of all this, the outside views like the inner and outer courtyard, as well as the rooftop terrace offer fantastic views of the fortress and it’s surroundings. One could easily spend hours in and around Kronborg and I would highly recommend a visit to this historic Castle to anyone planning a trip to Denmark.
On top of the fortress
I highly enjoyed my tour, but I tried not to dawdle too much. After all, we still had two and a half hours of cycling left to get back home. With sun in our face, we bolted off towards Farum. In total, cycling around five hours that day.
On the morning following our road trip to Briksdalsbreen, we were back in Fjærland. The plan was to drive back to Trondheim that day. On our drive back we would end up paying an unexpected visit to a very familiar place from back when we traveled to Norway the first time.
I just love these grassy rooftop wooden cabins
Before heading out, however, we had to pay the glaciers another visit. This time around we settled for a closer option and walked to the base of Bøyabreen glacier.
At a short distance from the Norwegian Glacier Museum, Bøyabreen is an arm of the the larger Jostedalsbreen Glacier. From the rainy clouds above thick blue ice lurched down the steep mountains towards the glacial lake beneath. Several streams originating from the ice sheet above came down the rocky cliffs forming series of thin waterfalls all around.
Bøyabreen glacier, Fjærland
It was a splendid view. One that could only be honored with a photo reenactment of Michelangelo’s “The Creation of Adam”.
Just as good if not better than the original
An unexpected visit to a familiar place
On our way back to Trondheim we stopped in a small town by the fjord to gas up the car. Since I wasn’t using my google maps back then as much as I do today, I had no idea where we were. Then Daniel pointed out that we were in fact back in Sogndalsfjøra.
With that realization came back the memories from our time there three years before. During our first adventure in Norway when we sought out fjords and mountains, Sogndalsfjøra was the furthest we got northwest. I brought up the idea of driving all the way back to Fagernes and our favorite campsite.
A stop down memory lane: Sogndalsfjøra, 2016
However, we still had a long drive to do back north to Trondheim. So we decided to skip on that idea. Still, it was great to see that little town filled with great memories.
Mountains and the church
On our way back north, we followed Lustrafjorden across the Jostedalsbreen National Park and passed into the Jotunheimen National Park. A stunning alpine wilderness renowned for its towering peaks, deep valleys, and pristine lakes, Jotunheimen is known as the “Home of the Giants”.
Driving through the Jotunheimen National Park
The rugged terrain of Jotunheimen is deeply rooted in Norse mythology as it was traditionally considered the realm of the Jötnar, the frost and rock giants. In Norse tales, the Jötnar were both adversaries and occasional allies of the gods. Thor, the god of thunder, frequently ventured into Jotunheim to battle these formidable beings, showcasing his strength and bravery. Meanwhile, Loki, himself of Jötunn descent, often served as a bridge between the two worlds, blending conflict with cunning alliances.
Glacier creeping across the Jotunheim mountains
The park is a paradise for hikers and climbers, featuring 29 of Norway’s highest mountains, including Galdhøpiggen, the tallest in Northern Europe.
Lom stave church
After crossing Jotunheimen we soon arrived in the village of Lom. There we made one final stop and visited Lom Stavkyrkje, one of the largest and best-preserved stave churches in Norway. Originally built in 12th century, its intricate carvings depict Christian symbols alongside Norse pagan motifs, reflecting the transitional period between paganism and Christianity in Norway.
Interior of the Lom stave church
Later modifications added medieval touches such as extended aisles and windows. The interior also reflects a more medieval and Renaissance style including painted decorations, artifacts and a preserved altarpiece.
Shopping across borders
The following day Daniel needed to do some bulk grocery shopping, so we hopped into the car and paid Sweden an unexpected visit… Yeah, so apparently it’s a fairly common thing for Norwegians living close to the border to cross over to Sweden to do their bulk shopping since it’s significantly cheaper. In fact, there are even dedicated shopping centers on the Swedish side built close to the border for this specific purpose. One of them was located in the small town of Storlien, about a one and a half hour drive from Trondheim.
On a shopping trip to Sweden
The weather was much better that day. Mostly sunny, with just a few scattered clouds. The landscape was quite impressive as well. Rounded, rocky mountains stuck out from the vibrant autumn colored vegetation and swampy terrain stretching in all directions.
Plenty of blueberries to snack on while hiking
At this point we had crossed over to Sweden and my adventure senses were tingling. I managed to talk Daniel into hiking one of the nearby nameless mountains. So we set off through the bushy and hilly terrain, munching on plenty of blueberries along the way.
Conquering the nameless Swedish mountains
As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but pristine wilderness. The walk reminded me of our Borgund mountain hike from three years before. Once more it felt like we were the only people around for hundreds of miles. Quiet, peaceful, tranquil. Well, as long as you ignored the main road we started walking from.
It’s not obvious from the photo, but my tongue was berry-blue
After reaching one of the cliffs and fulfilling our daily adventure-o-meter, we were ready to head back and finish our grocery shopping quest.
Our brief visit to Storlien, Sweden
Trondheim
I spend the rest of my remaining time in Norway in and around Trondheim. In the evening, Daniel took me to one of his favorite spots on the fjord to show off his highly improved fishing skills. By this point he was apparently becoming quite the fisherman, but alas, no fish were caught that night.
Should have just fished with the crane
On my last day we strolled around in Trondheim’s city center. One of the most iconic buildings was Nidaros Cathedral. An impressive Gothic/Romanesque cathedral, Nidaros has been a sacred site for pilgrims throughout the middle ages. The cathedral also stands as a symbol of Norwegian national identity and heritage where most of the country’s monarchs have been consecrated throughout its history.
The intricate façade of Nidaros Cathedral in Trondheim
Apart from religious services and royal ceremonies, the cathedral also hosts numerous cultural events year round. These events range from concerts to art shows, with the most famous one being the annual St. Olav Festival, which includes medieval markets and special church services.
The Statue of Saint Olaf up on a high pedestal near Nidaros Cathedral
Another iconic part of Trondheim is the neighborhood of Bakklandet. Located on the east side of the Nidelva River, just across from the city center, the area features a set of 17th century colorful wooden houses with cultural significance. The vibrant color style reminded me of other famous Scandinavian neighborhoods, like Nyhavn in Copenhagen, Denmark.
Bakklandet neighborhood in Trondheim
After strolling around the city for half the day, it was once more time for me to depart Norway. I knew I was going to come back again, sooner or later. But for now, I had to return to my life in Denmark.
Following my two-weeks adventure in Iceland in August 2016, I returned to Denmark. However, it wasn’t for long as I was planning another little trip. This time non-work related. During the time I had moved and settled in Denmark, one of my best friends from back in Romania, Daniel, had decided to move to Norway. The promised land, the land of an unforgettable adventure that started it all for both of us. Now that I was financially stable and settled into my new life, it was time to return to the far north and reunite the brotherhood!
Thus just a few weeks after my return from Iceland, I took a flight from Copenhagen to Trondheim to visit my best buddy in Norway.
Once more above the clouds
Back in Norway
I got to Trondheim pretty late at night. By the time Daniel picked me up and we got back to his place his then girlfriend was sleeping. As was most of the neighborhood. I remember we sat out on the porch during the cool Norwegian night drinking and chatting away while trying to keep our voices down.
We had a lot to catch up on since both of our lives had radically changed since last we met. However, no matter how much had changed, how much we’d change, we would always seamlessly pick up right where we left off.
After one and a half year, the Brotherhood reunites!
The next day was a Friday and Daniel had planned a little road trip for us over the weekend. After a lazy morning, he had to run some errands in the city so I tagged along and got my first brief view of Trondheim.
Driving around Trondheim, Norway
Around noon we drove over to the one of the University of Trondheim locations to pick up his girlfriend. As I was waiting, I remember admiring this casually parked submarine in the harbor right next to the building.
This is not the yellow submarine
Soon enough, we were all packed up and ready to hit the road for the weekend.
Jostedalsbreen National Park
For the rest of the day and well into the night we drove to the Jostedalsbreen National Park, mainland Europe’s largest glacier. We couldn’t see much of anything during our night drive, but the next morning we were treated to quite a spectacular view.
A cool, misty morning in Jostedalsbreen National Park
We woke up in the heart of the national park, somewhere in, or near Fjærland. It was like poetic justice that we started off our trip in the place that we were eyeing three years before, from across the fjords and mountains in Søgndal. I have to admit though, for the better part of this trip, I had no idea where we were. I was just marveling at our surroundings and enjoying the adventure.
Norwegian Glacier Museum in Fjærland
Our first stop of the day was the Norwegian Glacier Museum in Fjærland. The museum showcases the science of glaciology, the history of glaciers in Norway, and their role in climate change. It featured interactive exhibits, models, and presentations on the topic.
Glacier model at the Norwegian Glacier Museum
The museum also highlights the cultural significance of glaciers in Norway’s history and provides insight into the challenges and importance of preserving these natural wonders. But best of all, the museum had a big polar bear in the lobby area that I could high five!
Heck yeah!
Melkevoll Bretun
Following a scenic drive around and under the mountains, we ended up on the northern side of the glacier, at Melkevoll Bretun. Located near the Briksdal Glacier (Briksdalsbreen) in Stryn, Melkevoll Bretun offers stunning views of dramatic glacial landscapes. It was time for a little hike.
The trail to Briksdalsbreen glacial lake
A 3 km trail from Briksdal Mountain Lodge led all the way up to the Briksdalsbreen glacial lake. The winding gravel trail took us up the mountain through lush valleys surrounded by towering peaks and cascading waterfalls. On our way up we passed Kleivafossen waterfall, one of the major highlights of the the hike.
Kleivafossen waterfall spraying everyone that passed it by
Following the waterfall we passed by some cool glacial features in the outcropping rocks. Jettegryter, or the giant potholes formed naturally during the last Ice Age, when glacial meltwater carried rocks and debris that swirled in strong currents, grinding into the bedrock.
The giant potholes (Jettegryter) on the Briksdalsbreen trail
The polished, smooth wall of the rocks also revealed other neat features in these rocks that would excite any geology enthusiast.
Structural features in the rock layers, including displacement and boudinage
Of course a Norwegian hike wouldn’t be complete without encountering a pack of goats. Most of them were minding their own business, grazing around. But then there was this one goat perched up on a rock that was just staring down at us lowly humans like the king that he was.
Close encounter with the Goat King
Briksdalsbreen
Shortly after our encounter with the Goat King, we reached Briksdalsbreen glacial lake. A serene lake with a gorgeous view, Briksdalsbreen glacial lake continues to grow larger as the glacier gradually retreats over the decades.
Briksdalsbreen, an arm of the larger Jostedalsbreen ice cap
This was one of the best places to test out my newly acquired PENTAX digital camera. It wasn’t as fancy as a Canon, or Nikon, but its fixed lens had quite an impressive zoom for the time. The only problem was keeping the camera steady. I never invested in a tripod, so I had to always find just the right surface around to get my zoomed in shots.
Briksdalsbreen zoomed in
I ended up getting some really neat zoomed in shots of the glacier. One of them even captured distinctive cracks/crevasses in the blue ice.
Even more zoomed in action revealing cracks in the ice
Of course I couldn’t just ignore the jagged mountain peaks surrounding us. After a quick camera repositioning, I got some moody shots of the landscape as well.
Ice patches tucked away between the surrounding mountain ridges
Finally, Daniel ended up just in the right spot for a spaghetti western style shot!
The man, the viking, the legend, Dovahkiin Daniel
An epic sunset
After we finished our nature photoshoot at Briksdalsbreen, we slowly headed back to the parking lot. As we drove back towards our lodging, the clouds led up just enough to offer some amazing sunset views that just kept on getting better and better.
Sunlight just barely grazing the peaks of the mountains
Even Daniel was constantly staring into his mirrors while driving while we were “oo-ing” and “aa-ing” at the scenery. We ended up pulling over numerous times to get the best shots.
Jostedalsbreen in the distance
But it wasn’t until the apex of the setting sun that we were truly treated to some spectacular sights.
An epic Norwegian sunset
Nothing like a lake view of the burning red sky as the sun goes down behind the mountains and fjords. A perfect way to end a great day on the road. However, our adventures in Norway were not over yet. The story will continue in “The return to Norway part 2”.
Having now journeyed across most of the country for the last 10 days, our adventure in Iceland was soon coming to an end. With but a few days left to travel across the south of the country, I thought that I had seen everything this volcanic island’s landscape had to offer. However, to my surprise, the south would provide a radically different environment then what I’d seen thus far. There, the unrelenting waves of the Atlantic constantly battered the shore, while moody, dark clouds kept the tall looming cliffs in a constant shade. In contrast to the desolate volcanic wastes of central Iceland, the south was a mystical place where valleys whisper and icebergs are born.
The gloomy, shadowy southern coast of Iceland
Southern Iceland
We drove from Laugarfell south to get back on the ring road. It was an overcast day. Quite typical of southern Iceland since the weather there is heavily influenced by the North Atlantic Ocean. The combination of the oceanic climate and proximity to the Arctic Circle means that weather can be highly unpredictable, with constant cloud cover, rain, and wind. Furthermore, the mountainous terrain exacerbates this, creating microclimates. It’s not a stretch to say it’s an entirely different land than the arid center, or the calmer north.
The clouds were there for good
After driving across green mountainous lands, in and out of tunnels, we arrived at the coast. The road followed the coastline and the visual was quite impressive. On the one side there was the vast North Atlantic Ocean, relentlessly battering the coastline. On the other side, towering cliffs loomed above us with their tops hidden by thick, low-hanging dark grey clouds.
A place I would have loved to explore more
As the road swerved around the base of the cliffs, I’d occasionally get a glimpse of thin waterfall, or a narrow valley hidden in the constant mist. On one occasion the fog lifted just enough to reveal an icy “limb” of the Vatnajökull glacier creeping down from one of those narrow valleys. The eerie sight reminded me of the “Paths of the Dead” valley from the Lord of the Rings.
Jökulsárlón
Every now and again there would be a small wooden house nestled in under the cliffs. I could just imagine the kind of tales and sagas one would be able to write while living in a fantastical environment such as this. It was around that time that I began considering potentially moving to Iceland for a time. perhaps as part of a PhD? I probably wouldn’t have wanted to live out my whole life there, but a solid few years could have been incredible.
Some of the more visible waterfalls along the way
Some time later, we arrived at Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon. A stunning glacial lagoon, Jökulsárlón is where large chunks of ice break off from the Vatnajökull glacier and float in serene waters before drifting out into the Atlantic Ocean. It is basically a place where icebergs are born.
Where icebergs are born and with them the worries of Atlantic seafarers
This tranquil, peaceful area is surrounded by dramatic landscapes like the nearby black sand beaches giving it an otherworldly feel. This unique landscape is of course a highly popular tourist attraction, where masses of people congregate for photos and boat tours offering a closer view of the ice formations.
Natural ice sculpture: The shark and the spear fisherman
Truly it was one the busiest places we’d experience in Iceland. Probably even busier than downtown Reykjavik.
Highway to Hella
After our brief stop at Jökulsárlón, we continued west towards Hella. Our destination for the day was Beindalsholt, a guesthouse located on a farm near the village of Hella. On the way we made another stop south of Öræfajökull to collect some tephra samples for another study Paul was involved with.
On the side of the road, two pieces of mangled steel that used to belong to the Skeiðarárbrú bridge. The bridge was severely damaged by flooding in 1996 after a volcanic eruption in Grímsvötn. The remains now served as a monument to the raw power of Iceland’s volcanic and glacial forces.
Skeiðarárbrú bridge monument
As we drove further away from Vatnajökull, the landscape opened up revealing more waterfalls, hills and distant mountains. On the way Paul pointed out one of Iceland’s largest lava flows as we passed it by, the Laki fissure eruption.
The lush landscape of southern Iceland
The Laki eruption began in 1783 and lasted for eight months. The eruption that created a volcanic fissure system stretching over 27 kilometers released large quantities of lava and toxic gases like sulfur dioxide causing an environmental catastrophe. Evidence suggesting that the quantity of ash and gasses released caused a cooling period in the northern hemisphere that contributed to the “Year Without a Summer” in 1816.
Hekla and the highlands
The next day was to be our last day in the field. We had two final targets to sample. Located further northeast, to reach them we drove back once more toward the all too familiar wastelands of central Iceland. On our way we passed by one of Iceland’s most famous active volcanos, Hekla.
Driving by Hekla on our way north
At 1491 m high, Hekla is part of a 40 km wide volcanic system linked to the underlying rift between the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates. Notable for its frequent violent eruptions, Hekla is often referred to in Icelandic folklore as the Gateway to Hell.
One last trip into the Icelandic highlands
Contrary to Hekla, our target volcanoes, Saxi and Fontur were a lot less extravagant. In fact, they were relatively small phreatic craters composed of fine-grained unconsolidated crystal fragments. Once we reached Fontur, we realized we didn’t even need our geological hammers as we could simply scoop up a few fistfuls of loose crystals into our bags. Paul remarked that it was the most unorthodox sampling he had done so far.
Fresh olivine and plagioclase crystals, straight from Fontur
As we made our way back to the car, the weather turned bad. We took the opportunity to a have lunch and waited around in the car to see if we could ride out the rain. However it wasn’t going away and in the end we decided to pass on the hike to Saxi. After all, we had such a successful field campaign that we could afford missing out on one single sample.
The end to a great adventure
The day after, we drove back to Reykjavik. The sun came out to shine down on us one last time while on Icelandic soil. A few familiar sights greeted us on our way back. The moss-covered Laki lava fields followed us for the better part of the drive.
The friendly doggo at Beindalsholt greeting us in the morning
Later on, steam vents dotted the lush landscape as a constant reminder of the ongoing geothermal activity underneath. Finally the sights of increasing human activity dotted the rugged terrain as we approached the capital.
Moss covered lava flows from the Laki eruption
Once in Reykjavik the urban landscape took over completely. The rugged terrain replaced by wood, concrete and steel structures. Cars coming and going, and everyday people living their normal lives. A stark contrast to the harsh land they inhabit, as well as a testament to humanities nature to survive and thrive in the some of the most unforgivable places on Earth.
Walking around in Reykjavik
As my time in Iceland had come to a close, I walked the streets of Reykjavik one last time reflecting on the incredible sights I had seen. It had been a truly remarkable journey, filled with laughs, adventures and good times. It had also been an amazing mentor-student bonding experience between Paul and myself.
It’s been quite the ride, both living and retelling the journey
I believe that the details in which I could retell this story today, over 8 years later, are a tribute to the many fond memories gained during my trip there to Iceland. Hence, I will forever be thankful to Paul Martin for the opportunity to go to Iceland as part of my Masters thesis project.
As my geological trip across Iceland was progressing, I had run out of targets in north and central parts of the island. The next destinations were the east and south. Given the speedy sampling that we got done in the previous days, we were ahead of schedule. As a result I would soon embark on an impromptu journey across Iceland, from Snæfell in the east to Mývatn in the north.
Following our drive from Dreki, we spent the night at a guesthouse in a remote area in east Iceland. The owner was a big intimidating looking, bearded Icelandic gentleman. With a dog by his side and an axe in his hand, his visage combined with the isolated location gave us pause. Paul and I were wondering if we’d survive the night, or the man would chop us up into little bits. In the end our host turned out to be a warm and welcoming fellow. Genuinely curious about our work, he could not for the life of him wrap his head around what exactly was the purpose of my study.
Our AirBnB host’s doggie
The following morning we were supposed to get a replacement vehicle from the car rental company. We emptied the Landcruiser and waited for the rental agency representatives to come make the exchange.
Upon their arrival, they inspected the damaged car inside and out. I will never forget the hilarious moment one of them stuck their head inside the car and the foul smell created waves of wrinkles along his face. The odor of spilled food and beverages due to the absent suspensions made that car smell like a collage frat house. After the exchange we ended up with a smaller, more compact SUV in the form of a Dacia Duster.
Driving across the lush green landscape of eastern Iceland
How ironic that in Iceland of all places I’d end up behind the wheel of a Romanian car brand.
The snow-capped Mount Snæfell
Finally on the road again, we set off towards our new target area, Snæfell. An imposing snow-capped mountain, Snæfell is one of the tallest mountain peaks in eastern Iceland. When I gazed upon the mighty mountain, my hiking senses were tingling. However, our sampling points were not on Snæfell per se. Rather they were located on the various hills and in gullies surrounding the grand mountain.
The snow-capped Mount Snæfell rising above the horizon
This is where the novelty of Icelandic landform names had worn off for me. Ever since then, when other foreigners would come up to me and ask whether I could pronounce the name of the famous Eyjafjallajökull volcano, I would say “Please, that’s child’s play”. Then I would throw a few names from eastern Iceland at them like: Langihnjúkur, Nálhushnjúkar, or Vestri Sauðhnjúkar.
Some of the many “jukurs” and “jukars” we traversed and sampled
Indeed, there were many strange “jukurs” and “jukars” we trekked in our days around Snæfell. As we traveled further inland, with each new spot, we’d end up edging closer once more to the vast Vatnajökull ice field stretching across central Iceland. At around mid-day we took a lunch break atop one of our hills, marveling at the gorgeous view of Vatnajökull.
Nothing like having lunch with a panoramic view of Iceland’s largest ice cap
Another great day for sampling
Our first day in the east was quickly turning into another great success. With splendid weather and road conditions, we managed to sample over half of our targets around Snæfell. With but a few locations left, we decided to call it a day towards the late afternoon. That’s when I realized I didn’t have my borrowed geological hammer on me anymore.
The illusive hammer hiding in plain sight
Losing ones tools is such a typical rookie geologist mistake. Paul was eager to see how I’d deal with the problem. I was fairly certain I had forgotten it on our last outcrop. But the landscape was so uniform that it was hard to retrace our steps precisely. It didn’t take me long though to realize we had our GPS trackers on. So with some help from technology I quickly recovered the missing hammer. With a sly smirk on his face, Paul was visibly pleased with my quick thinking.
With a successful bounty in tow, we drove towards our new lodging, Laugarfell. A quaint mountain lodge fairly close to Snæfell, Laugarfell, with its two natural hot springs was quite a step up from the cramped and crowded huts we stayed at in central Iceland.
Natural hot spring at Laugarfell with Mount Snæfell in the background
The monolith
The second day the sky was overcast and there was a light drizzle in the air. We drove back towards Snæfell to continue our rock-hunt. During one of our stops we hiked along a mossy valley with lingering patches of snow and ice. The rocks and landscape clearly carved out by expanding ice sheets not long ago, geologically speaking.
I just loved the visual of the green-yellow vegetation seemingly seeping out from the dark rocky valleys and crevasses
All was going well as we circled the mystical Mount Snæfell, now covered in a thick layer of clouds. Our sampling for the entire region was nearly done. As we drove around, we spotted a large rock pillar sticking out of the side of a slope in the distance. We had time to spare so we decided to investigate.
Behold the Monolith, Sótaleiði
It was thus that we found Sótaleiði, or as I called it, the Monolith. This giant gravestone-shaped rock pillar composed of dark volcanic breccia was likely a large loose block remobilized by the receding ice sheet. A hiking trail panel nearby described the Monolith as Sótaleiði, a gravestone for the mythical giant Sóti.
Even though it wasn’t exactly the rock type we were looking for, we decided to take a sample for geochemical analysis, just out of curiosity.
Paying homage to the “gravestone”
Leaving the Monolith behind, we made one more quick stop on our way back to Laugarfell and grabbed the last of our target samples in eastern Iceland.
A journey across Iceland
Thanks to our good fortune and hard work, we were one day head of schedule. So I was hoping I could get Paul to go do some touristy sightseeing the following day. Specifically the Mývatn area which had caught my eye a few days before while we traveled around north Iceland. Unfortunately Paul had paper work he wished to catch up on, so he handed me the car keys and set me on my solo journey across Iceland.
The decision to let Paul solely drive throughout our trip came back to haunt me that day. I was quite reluctant about taking the wheel as it had been many years since I had driven and my past driving experience from Romania was minimal. Regardless, I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to go sightseeing in Iceland because of my driving fear and anxiety. So with shaky hands and heart in throat I set out towards Egilsstaðir and Mývatn.
The journey across Iceland, from Snæfell to Mývatn
The weather was not great that morning. Heavy rain and wind were constantly battering the car throughout my journey. In some parts of the drive the wind was so strong that it felt like it was trying to tip the car over. Regardless, I kept on going with my loud music blasting on. My main gripe at the time being how I couldn’t enjoy that wonderful moment of my life because of my high anxiety. I was freely driving alone in Iceland to my Norwegian black metal music. Something I couldn’t even have dreamt of years before and all I could think of was what could go wrong on the road.
Mývatn
As I got closer and closer to Mývatn, I was finally starting to relax. I had completed the 240 km drive (my longest continuous drive at that point) from Laugarfell to Mývatn. There was of course the little issue of driving back, but I wasn’t going to worry about that just yet. I was going to take my time and enjoy some sightseeing.
Oh my Dacia at the Dimmuborgir lava fields
Dark Fortresses
My first stop was the Dimmuborgir lava fields. To me this was a major attraction that I never thought I’d get to see, so I was super hyped. The main reason being that there is this Norwegian symphonic black metal band that I was a big fan of for years called Dimmu Borgir. Translated as “Dark Fortresses” their name was clearly inspired by the geologic feature in Iceland.
Orientation dial at the entrance to the lava fields
So what actually is the Dimmuborgir of Iceland you may ask. Simply put, it’s an expansive field of lava formations, including caves, pillars, and arches, which were created during a volcanic eruption approximately 2300 years ago.
Dimmuborgir lava fields, Iceland
This dramatic landscape formed when a large lava lake from the eruption began to cool and solidify on the surface while molten lava continued to flow beneath it. When the underlying lava drained away, the crust collapsed in some areas but left other sections standing, resulting in fascinating, unique, irregular features.
One of the many contorted lava features at Dimmuborgir
The name was given to reflecting the eerie, castle-like appearance of these lava structures. According to Icelandic folklore, the area is considered a mystical place, believed to be home to trolls and other supernatural beings. The site also ties into local legends about the Yule Lads, mischievous figures associated with Icelandic Christmas traditions.
I was in my element then like never before
The gloomy dark grey clouds above combine with the otherworldly landscape around me were fueling my vivid imagination. It was like an ancient dark fantasy conjured up by my young brooding mind had come to life. I deeply savored each moment of my time there.
The towering features resembling dark fortresses that earned the place its name
After a good couple of hours of walking around the lava fields I went back to the car and had some lunch. It was still fairly early in the afternoon so I decided to go check out one more attraction in the area.
“R” for Reverse
My point of interest was Hverfjall, a large volcanic crater nearby. There was just one little problem. I seemed to be having a tough time figuring out how to put the car in reverse so I could back out of the parking space. The “R” on the stick shift clearly showed left-down, but no matter how much I tried it wasn’t going in reverse. To make matters worse, the parking lot was on a cliff. So each time I’d tap the gas and it would go forward instead of backward, I’d be creeping closer and closer to the cliff’s edge.
One of my favorite photos from Mývatn capturing the widely diverse landscape of Iceland with craters, lava flows, steam vents all in one
I was so frustrated and embarrassed that I’d constantly look around to make sure nobody was paying attention to my laughably futile maneuvers. Clearly there had to be some trick to changing the gear. Upon a closer inspection I noticed the line leading to the “R” was discontinued. I thought that perhaps there was a button there, so I tried pushing the stick down. Another failed attempt. As the car got closer to the edge, I was running out of tries.
I stopped once more to think carefully. That’s when it hit me! This was a Dacia and I had driven Dacia cars before. The way you put a Dacia in reverse gear is a little weird. You have to grab the ring around the fabric of the stick shift and pull it up. Then you can push it left-down into the correct gear socket. Eureka! I could finally back out of my parking space!
Lake Mývatn, Iceland
A short drive later I arrived at Hverfjall.
Hverfjall
With my renewed confidence I parked the car like a boss, and headed up the trail to the crater. Hverfjall is a phreatomagmatic crater, formed by explosive interactions between magma and groundwater or surface water.
Hiking up Hverfjall
These interactions led to violent eruptions that fragmented the surrounding rock and created the large, circular crater with a nearly symmetrical shape. This type of eruption results in a tuff ring, which is evident in Hverfjall’s steep 420 m high walls. The eruption occurred approximately 2800 years ago, producing a crater that measures around 1 kilometer in diameter and 140 meters deep.
There’s an entire hiking trail around the rim of the crater. However, I’m not sure if it’s possible to go down into the crater itself. Sadly I didn’t have enough time to do the hike or explore too much. I only spent about half an hour taking in the sights before I hopped back into my newly mastered car to drive back to Laugarfell.
The phreatic crater, Hverfjall. At least as much as I could fit in a photo
I was less nervous about the drive then in the morning, but I felt quite tired for the first hour. At one moment I decided to pull over and go out for a few moments to allow the cold breeze to wake me up. I was also taking in the awesome sights of northern Iceland one last time. In spite of my driving related anxieties, this turned out to be one of my most memorable days in Iceland.
By the time I got back to eastern Iceland, the sun was out and shining. With a gorgeous sunset on the horizon I was finally enjoying every moment of the rest of my drive.
After our respite in northern Iceland, Paul Martin and I found ourselves driving towards the volcanic desert of central Iceland once more. Our rocky target of the day was the “Mother of all tuyas”, Herðubreið. Tuyas are flat-topped, steep-sided volcanoes that formed as a result of sub-glacier eruptions. Referred to as the Queen of Icelandic mountains, Herðubreið is one of the countries most iconic tuyas and a marvel to behold.
Herðubreið, the Mother of tuyas
To reach our target, we followed roads 1 and F88 into the Icelandic highlands until the turnoff to Herðubreiðartögl. Herðubreið, by far the most visually captivating edifice was in fact one of a series of eruptions in the same area. A shorter, more disproportionate sibling of it was Herðubreiðartögl. Given the relatively flat nature of the surrounding wasteland, the towering series of tuyas were evidently imposing even from afar. The closer we got the more we marveled at the sight and formation of these massive volcanic centers.
Lava cave around Herðubreið
Herðubreið and the lava fields
While approaching Herðubreið, the road became quite rough as it crossed a series of old lava flows. The ride was very bumpy and we couldn’t help but joke about the extremely bouncy ride we had a couple of days before when our rear suspensions broke. Just a few moments later there was a noticeably bad bump that felt like the car’s bottom had hit the rocks beneath. I gazed over at Paul and said “That didn’t sound good”. He tried to wave it off with a smirk and an “I don’t know what you’re talking about” line.
The lava road to Herðubreið marked out by sporadic road demarcation pylons
We first pulled over to sample Herðubreiðartögl and then proceeded further to stop at Herðubreið. After a short hike up the base of the mountain to collect my sample, it was lunch time. By that time the sun was out and the sky was clear. It was a gorgeous day to be out exploring the natural beauties of Iceland. Paul and I were both very happy with how the day was going. That is until we went back to the car and noticed the back half of the chassis slanted down on the rear tire… The suspension broke again.
Dreki hut and the Icelandic park rangers
With our once more handicapped car we drove to our next destination, camp Dreki. Located at the mouth of the Drekagil gorge in central Iceland, Dreki is a small base camp for the Icelandic national park rangers offering two living huts that can accommodate 50 visitors during the summer. Paul had to notify the rangers of our arrival and intent of work within the park’s limits. He was also hoping to get some advice and perhaps some help with our limping Landcruiser.
Dreki Hut, east of the Dyngjufjöll mountains in central Iceland
One of the rangers had a look at our car and was quick to point out that it would be a bad idea to keep driving the car on the F-roads. Instead of both suspensions giving out on the back, this time only one of them broke. This caused an awkward tilt side tilt of the chassis and was putting a lot of strain on the back axel. If we forced it too much on the mountain roads it could completely break the axel. Considering we still had several targets planned in central Iceland for the next two days this was pretty bad news.
Talk about a low-rider SUV…
We asked if there was any other vehicles available at the camp that we could potentially borrow. Or if the rangers had any other suggestions. This one ranger, Hannes, tentatively mentioned that he might be able to gives us a ride to our locations. I could see Paul’s face lighting up immediately. Hope was back! But our ranger friend couldn’t promise us anything yet and had to get back to work. He left us there to settle in for the evening and would be back later with an answer.
The Icelandic National Park Rangers at Dreki
After settling in, we had dinner and tried to salvage whatever was left of our scratched up “Viking” beer cans. The recovery was about 80-90% which wasn’t too bad considering the cans were bouncing all around in the back of the car together with rocks and tools for hours. Later in the evening we met up once more with Hannes and he finally agreed to drive us around for the next two days.
A couple of the surviving Viking beers after battling flying rocks and tools in the back of our bouncing car
The desolate land of ash and rock
The next morning we got into the truck with Hannes and bolted across the grey landscape of central Iceland. The man clearly knew these roads like the back of his hand. The car was literally flying on the F-roads. We were reaching our targets in little to no time.
A shout out to our friendly Icelandic park ranger and volunteer driver, Hannes
We were once more on the infamous Gæsavatnaleið that had wrecked our car during our first day in the field. We had a short stop at Gigöldur, where we sampled an old fissure eruption as well as a few other hyaloclastite outcrops around the mountain.
Claiming my rocks at Gigöldur
Without wasting any time we were back in the car and flying towards Urðarháls. Urðarháls was a massive crater located fairly close to where we had stopped the first day when going to Kistufell. With its steeply inclined walls, Urðarháls is about 0.1 km deep, 1.1 km long and 0.8 km wide. The bottom of the crater seemed impossible to access and the thought of falling into it with no chance to escape gave us pause. Luckily, for our work it was enough to simply hammer out a piece of rock from the top.
At the mouth of Urðarháls crater
With our tasks for the day completed in record time, we drove back to Dreki for a relaxing afternoon.
The Dyngjufjöll mountains
Upon our return to camp, Paul decided to catch up on some reading/work and I got the afternoon off. I decided to take advantage of the free time and go hiking up the Dyngjufjöll mountains near Dreki.
Hiking up the Dyngjufjöll mountains
At first I was just aimlessly walking up the first slope taking the path of least resistance. After crossing a narrow valley, I reached a plateau just above the camp offering a spectacular view towards the east. The whole area was covered in a variety of volcanic sediments. The most intriguing being a centimetric layer of light beige pumice.
The eastward view from above Dreki
Apart from the eerie blanket of fine pumice, several large fragments are scattered about across the landscape. The pumice which blanketed a large area in all directions was formed as a result of the Askja eruption of 1875, one of the most catastrophic volcanic events in Icelandic history.
Light pumice fragments covering the Dyngjufjöll mountains
The highly explosive eruption of Askja in 1875 killed much of Icelands livestock and local vegetation. So much so that it led to a famine crisis. As a result much of the population emigrated to other parts of the world, especially North America. Ash and pumice from the eruption was carried across the North Atlantic, with reports of fallout as far as Norway and Poland.
Glacial striations in the volcanic rocks of Dyngjufjöll
Upon exploring the plateau further I discovered a hiking trail with a sign reading 8 km to Askja. I was immediately hyped to go see the famous caldera for myself! However, 8 km one way was quite a lot considering it was already around 3 pm. With a reluctant sigh, I decided to play it safe and not venture into the unknown alone without notice for several hours.
Exploring the valley towards Drekagil
A storm front was also visibly closing in, so staying back was the right call. There could always be a next time anyway. As the rain rolled in, I decided to go back and further explore the narrow valley I had climbed up on. This lead me to a hidden little gem of a waterfall called Drekagil.
Drekagil waterfall
I spent another hour or so roaming around the mountains without venturing too far from Dreki.
Saving a day
The following day we had just two more targets to reach. A small distant volcanic cone called Lindakeilir and a quick sampling stop along the way at Upptyppingar.
A well-defined pillow basalt at Upptyppingar
The first stop went without a hitch. We reached our hyaloclastite target, grabbed a quick sample and blasted off. The second one though ended up being quite the disappointment.
The little volcano Lindakeilir surrounded by the most vegetation we’d seen in the last two days
In the geological literature and maps, the little volcanic cone at Lindakeilir was labeled as hyaloclastite, our sought-after, brown rock types. However, when we got there there was no brown rocks in sight. The entire cone was made up of sub-areal black basalts. Not at all the sub-glacier volcanic rocks we desired.
I could hear Obi Wan Kenobi’s voice in my head saying: These are not the hyaloclastites you were looking for…
Nonetheless, we reluctantly grabbed a sample and vowed to forever mention this felonious error that made us drive all the way out there for no reason. However, with Hannes at the wheel we wasted little time and ended up saving a day of work.
Once more it was time to say farewell to central Iceland
Since we had finished our objectives in the area, Paul decided to cancel the last night at Dreki and hit the road the same day. A last minute Airbnb booking and a quick phone call to the car rental agency later, we bounced along with dodgy suspensions towards East Iceland.
As I mentioned at the end of my previous post, Gran Canaria to me was a sort of eye opener to a different world. A world of constant warm climate, sunshine, beaches, palm trees and luxury tourist resorts. A sort of idealized island paradise world, where, at least in the moment, one doesn’t care about money anymore. That’s because presumably one already has enough money if they end up in a place like this.
Well I didn’t have money… But I felt like I did. This feeling is what I mean by I got a small taste of “the good life”. Something I’d never felt before. I relished the feeling and wanted more. My experience in Gran Canaria ignited an ambition for success that would shape some of the most momentous decisions later on in my life.
The landscape of Gran Canaria
But I’m getting ahead of myself now. Let me first tell you about our adventures on the island.
Road trips across a volcanic island
We spent most of our days in Gran Canaria on the road. Driving around and across the island to observe its magnificent geological features.
Like the rest of the Canary Islands, Gran Canaria is a volcanic island made up of various volcanic rocks ranging from basalts to rhyolites. This range of rock types from silica-poor to silica-rich represents the typical evolution of ocean island forming magmas.
A rocky wall showcasing two generations of ignimbrites delineated by a scorched contact margin
Another typical rock type in Gran Canaria are ignimbrites. Ignimbrites are basically hardened volcanic tuff formed as a result of pyroclastic flows. For those unaware, pyroclastic flows are those superheated “grey avalanches” of gas and volcanic particles moving down the slopes of an angry erupting volcano at very high speeds. They are probably the most dangerous features of a violent volcanic eruption. Their direction is very hard to predict, you can’t outrun them and they incinerate and carbonize everything in their path.
The master volcanologist and igneous petrologist himself in action, Paul Martin Holm.
In the end, all that violent rocky and gassy outburst, coupled with erosion leads to some really unique rock formations.
Fuente de los Azulejos
The name of this colorful geological formation literally translates to the fountain of tiles. Located in the municipality of Tejeda in the center of the island, los Azulejos are a result of hydrothermal activity and oxidation, coupled with erosional features.
The colorful rocks of Los Azulejos in Gran Canaria
The rocks at los Azulejos are primarily composed of basalts. The green and blue colors come from an abundance of copper minerals such as malachite and azurite. Water and erosion over time contributed to the distribution of these colors across a large area.
A close-up of Los Azulejos
Roque Nublo
Another geological feature and major tourist attraction in the municipality of Tejada is Roque Nublo. Translated to “Rock in Clouds” this 80 meter high rocky monolith towers over the surrounding landscape.
Hiking towards Roque Nublo we got a view of these clouds rolling over the jagged landscape
One of the most iconic landmarks of the island, Roque Nublo offers spectacular panoramic views of the rolling hills and valleys of the Gran Canaria. On top of that, you get a spectacular view of Tenerife island in the distance.
The neighboring Tenerife island popping up in the distance above the clouds
Initially a landscape made up of various lava flows, ash and pumice, was shaped over millions of years by wind and water. In time, erosional forces have erased all but the most resilient of rocks which today make up the core of Roque Nublo.
The towering Roque Nublo
Dragon Tail cliffs at Mirador del Balcón
Located on the western coast of Gran Canaria, the Dragon Tail Cliffs at Mirador del Balcón are geological formation renowned for their dramatic appearance and panoramic views. The epic name was derived from the jagged, serrated edges of the cliffs, which resemble the tail of a dragon in silhouette against the sky.
The Dragon Tail Cliffs at Mirador del Balcón
The cliffs at Mirador del Balcón are composed of basaltic lava flows, which in time have been carved and sculpted by winds and waves. The dramatic shapes of these cliffs are a result of the high durability and resistance to erosion of basaltic rocks.
Bandama Caldera
Measuring approximately 1000 meters in diameter and 200 meters deep, the Bandama Caldera is one of the Canary Islands largest volcanic craters. Located near the town of Santa Brígida, the caldera offers yet more stunning views and geological features.
It was impossible to capture the sheer size of Bandama Caldera in one photo
The Bandama Caldera is the result of a massive volcanic eruption that occurred thousands of years ago. The subsequent collapse and erosion of the caldera left a large depression in the landscape.
On the road from the Bandama Caldera towards the coast you can find some of best examples of pillow basalts. These structures form during underwater lava eruptions, as a result of rapid cooling.
The perfect pillow basalt
Mapping ignimbrites
On one of the days we split into multiple teams and did a field study of different rock formations. My hotel roommates and I were assigned to map ignimbrites. As such, Nigel, Søren, Michael and I spent one day in the scorching sun noting down the features of this huge wall of rock along a sloped road.
Søren discovering a perfectly preserved volcanic bomb between the ignimbrite layers
Below us, in the valley, there was a raging pool party at one of the resorts. Not having an ounce of shade the whole day, we became quite disgruntled with and jealous of the people below. They were also playing that damned “Tunak Tunak” song on loop the whole day… To this day I can’t stand listening to that song because of this!
Hearing the Tunak Tunak song for the millionth time
Despite our complaints, we still had a great time doing fun geology things while sometimes stopping to admire the views of that incredible place. Later on we would compile a report of our findings, which would contribute towards the final grade of the course.
The tempting view while working in the hot sun all day
Leisurely evenings
After our daily road trips, sight seeing and geology work, we would spend our late afternoons and evenings doing various activities. Be it a dip in the pool, a walk across town, or a night of drinking on the terrace, there was always something to do.
Finishing up a long days work on the rocks
One of my favorite nights was poker night with my roommates. Søren had brought a poker set with him, so the four of us sat down for a very serious game of Texas Hold’Em. The stakes were high as we were playing for drinks. Losers buy the winners one and two beers respectively. After a crafty combination of luck, aggression and bluffing, I had managed to secure my second place and one free beer. However, my luck was up as the most inexperienced of us actually managed to win the big pot! Regardless, I was quite pleased with my results.
During the last evening, Paul Martin took us all out for a game of mini golf. This was after we had a few drinks. Among them a couple of shots of true Absinth. The 89.9% alcohol drink that gives you brain damage. To my surprise it tasted better than some other dreadful things I drank in my life – hint hint, Swedish bitter and Stroh rum… Ugh…
Tasty liquid death
On top of all this we had an incredible varied buffet dinner each night. I will never forget the seafood themed one. Just the variety and the taste of it all was so good! Suffice to say the nights were a blast.
Final thoughts on our trip
As a holiday trip and adventure, Gran Canaria is up there on my list with some of my most memorable trips. However, as part of a university field course? Hands down the best course I’ve ever taken!
Field courses are always more fun than just sitting in the class, or lab all day. I’ve done quite a few back in Romania during my Bachelors days. But of course the level of financing and opportunity between my Romanian and Danish Universities was incomparable.
Our geologist version of ‘The shining”
I mentioned how my trip to Gran Canaria turned on an ambition switch in my head that would pave the way for future decisions and successes. However, there was another thing I gained from my field trip there. An immense gratitude and respect towards my professor, Paul Martin, the University of Copenhagen and Denmark in general. So much so that when we flew back to Denmark I decided that I would sign up for the state offered Danish language classes and I would try to make Denmark my permanent home.
