Into the Shadows: Where Valleys Whisper and Icebergs Are Born
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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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.