FARM HOUSE.
We traversed nearly the same road on our return journey from the Geysers
as we had taken _en route_, our first halt being made at the farm near
which we had lunched the previous day, situated close to the winding
river we had crossed so often. In our up journey, we had had no time to
spare, so could not visit the farm house and buildings. Indeed the
Icelanders are very chary of exhibiting their domestic arrangements and
dwellings, hence it is difficult at all times to visit their homes.
However, I was determined to see over a farm house before leaving the
Island, so wandered around until we found an old woman. By shaking hands
with her, and praising up her skyr, we made her understand by signs that
we wished to see the house and byre. These were built of peat and
rubble, with grass roofs, on one of which a cow was actually grazing at
the time. Outside, drying in the sun, were pieces of peat in size about
two feet by three, and about two inches thick; they were doubled,
tent-fashion, to enable the air to pass through, and were standing in a
row along a turf wall. On inquiring their use, we learnt they were
intended as a species of saddle-cloth for the pack ponies, to protect
the vertebrae. The peat being placed on the animal's back, the loads are
attached on either side by a rope made of the mane and tail hair of the
ponies, plaited neatly in three, either black and white or brown and
white, and mixed with a little flax, they really form quite a pretty
adornment to the trappings; the loops through which the ropes pass are
of carved sheep's horns, knotted into most fantastic shapes.
We first visited the dairy, composed of peat and rubble as usual.
Inside, placed on a shelf, were large basins of milk and cream, as in
England. Sheep and cows' milk were side by side, for this farmer was a
wealthy man, and the happy possessor of a few cattle. He had butter too,
waiting to be sent to Reykjavik, which we tasted and found very good,
and an old-fashioned churn, some three feet high, like a chimney-pot
with a rod down the middle, terminating in a piece of flat wood. Of this
churn the old lady seemed very proud, and she was quite delighted when I
lifted the rod up and down, to find I knew how to use it. I believe that
won her heart.
Leaving the dairy, the old woman took my hand and dragged me along a
perfectly dark passage, Miss T. following. This passage was paved with
stones, and had stone walls on either side. Half stifled with peat
smoke, we arrived, puffing and panting, in the kitchen. Here in a corner
was the big peat fire which filled the whole dwelling with its
exhalations. All around was perfect blackness, until our eyes got
accustomed to the dim hazy light, when we espied a woman in a corner
making cakes, formed of two layers of meal buttered and placed at the
bottom of a huge cauldron, such as is used by the Irish peasantry for
boiling potatoes. These cakes served hot are very palatable.
There was no chimney; the smoke merely escaped the best way it could
through a small hole, around which some hams were being smoked. They
must have been mutton hams, for there are no pigs from which to get
others; and mutton hams properly smoked are very good too.
We were next conducted through another long dark passage, down which we
stumbled, bumping our heads against the side walls, there being no
entrance of light whatever, save what came through the doorway from the
reflection of the embers of the peat fire. So dark was the passage, we
almost fancied we were going through a coal mine. After a time we
reached a second room, devoted to the storing of packets of dried fish
and huge barrels of skyr; but the want of ventilation and light in this
quaint Icelandic larder was sadly felt.
Where did the family sleep? we asked ourselves, after visiting another
such apartment. Finally, by sundry gesticulations, we succeeded in
making our old friend understand our question, when off she led us to
the family bedroom. Imagine a long passage room with a small window at
either end, containing seven wooden beds, placed so that five joined
head and foot along one wall, while the other two were on either side of
the door. Here the whole family disposed of themselves at night.
In one of the beds lay a poor sick child. From her wasted appearance one
might suppose she was in a consumption, but this fatal disease is
unknown in Iceland.
In another bed lay a poor old woman, who as I addressed her grinned at
me so horribly, in the dim-light, that she had the appearance of an
awful old witch, and afforded a great contrast to the fragile child in
the adjoining bed. Each bed was covered by an old-fashioned patch-work
quilt.
Stowed away among the low rafters of the roof I noticed a spinning-wheel
and paraffin lamp, and some clothes packed in little tight bundles; much
as I should have liked to stop and take in a few more details, my nasal
organs could stand no more, and, feeling somewhat faint, I had, _nolens
volens_, to make a rush for the door. Much to my regret, I did not dare
venture inside again to further inspect this curious bedchamber.
Our old lady bade us a most affectionate farewell, returning several
times to shake us warmly by the hand, but distinctly refusing our
proffered krone.
About half way between the Geysers and Thingvalla we recrossed the
famous Bruara Fall. From bank to bank it is probably 200 feet, but in
fine weather a crossing can be made by a little bridge which spans some
6 feet of babbling, seething water at the narrowest part of the rocks,
where the river forms two cascades. The bridge is old and rickety, and
as the water is of considerable depth and tremendous volume, the bridge
is hardly a desirable halting-place for any length of time, although the
view from its planks is very fascinating.
We passed that night once more in the parsonage at Thingvalla, but much
more comfortably than before, as we had engaged all the rooms
beforehand, and also ordered a good fish dinner to be ready for us on
our arrival.
As to meat, we did not expect to get it; beef is hardly ever eaten by
the Icelanders, being too expensive to procure. The native sheep are
usually killed towards the end of September, and the meat salted or
smoked for winter consumption. Formerly horse-flesh was much eaten in
the Island, but is not so now. This struck us as strange in a place
where such a scarcity of food exists, and where ponies abound. Having
tasted it myself while in Germany, I know it is by no means to be
despised.
The principal vegetables to be had in Iceland are turnips and potatoes,
and of these there is only a limited supply; so that really fish remains
the one staple diet of the Island,--on the coast this is eaten fresh,
but it is dried before being packed and sent into the interior--cod,
salmon, haddock, trout, halibut, herrings, flounders, and sometimes
sharks.
The next morning, as soon as we had breakfasted, we mounted our ponies
with the regretful feeling the day's ride would be our last in Iceland.
We had been unfortunate in missing the clergyman at Thingvalla both
going and returning: we regretted it the more as we heard that he was a
very clever man and a good English scholar. Our good-natured hostess,
however, had done her best to supply his place, and we bade her a hearty
farewell, with much shaking of hands. Off we went at a gallop,
traversing the same route, fording the same rivers as on our up journey,
arriving safely at Reykjavik on the fourth day from that on which we had
left it, having compassed the 160 miles in three and a half days with
comparatively little fatigue, which I attribute to our mode of riding
being so much easier a movement than sitting sideways with a half
twisted body. I can only repeat what I before said, that we should never
have accomplished this long and fatiguing ride so easily, and in such a
short time, either in a chair or on a side saddle; so if any lady should
follow our example, and go to Iceland, let her be prepared to defy Mrs
Grundy, and ride as a man.
We had certainly every reason to be contented with the result of our
trip to the Geysers. The weather had been favourable,--very hot
sometimes in the middle of the day, but cold at night; but this was
rather refreshing than otherwise, and the scenery had well repaid our
toil and trouble. The Icelandic landscapes do not lack colour, as has
been asserted by some travellers; whilst the clearness of the
atmosphere is wonderful, and the shades of blue, purple, carmine, and
yellow in the sky melting into one another produce most lovely effects.
Unquestionably the landscape lacks trees and verdure, and one missed the
gorgeous autumn colouring of our English woods, for there is no foliage,
only low scrub jungle. It seems very doubtful if Iceland was ever
wooded, as is supposed by some persons, as no trees of any size have as
yet been discovered in the peat beds, a very conclusive evidence to the
contrary.
Iceland is so sparsely populated that one often rides miles without
encountering a human being. Even in the little town of Sauderkrok there
is not much life in the streets; for instance, A. L. T. dropped his pipe
as we rode out of the town, and on our return, eight hours later, we
found it in the centre of a small street, exactly where he had dropped
it. Now, as a pipe is a coveted luxury to an Icelander, it is presumable
that no one could have passed along that street in our absence.
It was just 3 P.M. when we entered Reykjavik, having accomplished our
last day's ride from Thingvalla in six and a half hours. The _Camoens_
was still safely at anchor in the harbour, and we rejoiced at having
returned without a single _contretemps_.
On our way through Reykjavik to the ship Mr Gordon ordered dinner at the
hotel to be ready by 7 o'clock, and we looked forward to this repast
with much pleasure after our tinned meat and biscuit diet of the last
few days.
Before returning on board to change our riding dresses, we went in
search of the washing. In a queer little wooden house, at the back of
the town, we found the washerman, who smiled and nodded, and asked 3s.
for what would have cost 30s. in England, handing us an enormous linen
bag, in which the things were packed. This was consigned to A. L. T.,
who carried it in both arms through the town, and ultimately on board,
where it landed quite dry; and to our surprise we found our linen had
been most beautifully washed and got up, quite worthy of a first-class
laundry.
The dinner was excellent, everything being very hot, and served in
Danish style. As is the universal custom among the better class, the
hostess waited on us herself, and told us she had spun her own dress and
the sitting-room carpet the winter before, and always wove her own
linen. This was our last evening ashore, as we were to heave anchor at
midnight on Tuesday, 17th August, and in four and a half days we were,
if all went well, to find ourselves back in Scotland. Alas! these
expectations were not realised, as few human aspirations are!
During our four days' absence to the Geysers, the captain and crew had
been engaged in shipping no less than 617 ponies, which additional cargo
caused two days' delay. Poor little beasts, when we arrived on board we
found they had all been so tightly stowed away as not to be able to lie
down. Fine sturdy little animals they appeared, mostly under seven
years of age, and in excellent condition; a very different sight to what
they were on arriving at Granton, when, after six and a half days'
voyage, every rib showed distinctly through their wasted, tucked up
forms.
After our dinner we lounged about in Reykjavik, paying a farewell visit
to the few objects of interest it has for travellers, most of which have
already been cursorily noticed in a previous chapter.
We spent some little time in the Museum again, which, after all, is not
much of an exhibition, for, as our cicerone, the hotel-keeper's
daughter, Fräulein Johannison, explained, all the best curiosities had
been carried off to Denmark. I naturally looked everywhere in the little
Museum for an egg of the Great Auk, or a stuffed specimen of the bird,
but there was neither, which struck me as rather curious, considering
Iceland was originally the home of this now extinct species. Not even an
egg has been found for over forty years, although diligent search has
been made by several well-known naturalists. The Great Auk was never a
pretty bird; it was large in size, often weighing 11 lb. It had a duck's
bill, and small eyes, with a large unwieldy body, and web feet. Its
wings were extremely small and ugly, from long want of use, so the
bird's movements on land were slow, and it was quite incapable of
flight. On the water it swam fast and well.
There are only about ten complete specimens of this bird, and about
seventy eggs, known to exist In March 1888, one of these eggs was sold
by auction for £225.
From the Museum we entered some of the stores, and purchased a fair
collection of photographs, some skin shoes, snuff-boxes, buckles, and
other native curios; we than returned to the hotel, paid our bill, bade
our host, hostess, and guides farewell, with many regretful shakes of
the hand on either side, and finally quitted Icelandic ground about 9
P.M.
The evening was lovely, and after arranging our cabins we remained some
time on deck watching the Northern Lights, which illuminated the entire
heavens, and were most beautiful. Unfortunately we did not see the
'Aurora Borealis,' which in these latitudes is often visible.
The following afternoon as we were passing the curious rocky Westmann
Islands, we slacked steam, to allow an old man in a boat to get the mail
bag thrown over to him. He had rowed out some three miles to fetch the
mail, and the bag contained exactly one letter, and a few newspapers.
Steaming on again we sighted no more land until Scotland came in view,
which we reached on Sunday afternoon. What a passage we had! It was
rough going to Iceland, but nothing to be compared to our return voyage!
We sat on deck, either with our chairs lashed, or else holding on to
ropes until our hands were quite benumbed with cold, while huge waves,
at least 15 feet high, dashed over the ship, often over the bridge
itself. If we opened our cabin portholes for a little fresh air, which
at times was really a necessity, the cabin was soon flooded, and our
clothes and rugs spent half their time being dried in the donkey engine
room.
Eleven of the poor ponies died, and had to be thrown overboard, a
serious loss to their owners; but one could not help wondering that more
of them did not succumb, so closely were they packed together, with very
little air but that afforded by the windsails. It was marvellous how the
sailors managed to drag out the dead from the living mass of animals.
This they accomplished by walking on the backs of the survivors, and
roping the dead animals, drew the carcases to the centre hold of the
ship, when the crane soon brought them to the surface, and consigned
them to a watery grave.
For six days the live cargo of beasts had to balance themselves with the
ship's movement in these turbulent seas without one moment's respite or
change of position. No wonder that on arriving at Granton they were in a
miserable plight. Within five minutes, however, of our being roped to
the pier they were being taken off in horse boxes, three at a time, and
the entire number were landed in three hours.
The hot air from the stables was at times overpowering, notwithstanding
that eight windsails were kept over it, which as they flapped in the
wind, looked just like eight ghosts.
The _Camoens_ was a steady sea boat, but better adapted for cargo than
for passengers, especially lady passengers, and the captain did not
disguise that he preferred not having the latter on board. Once in calm
water we discovered we had seriously shifted our cargo, and lay all over
on one side, so much so that a cup of tea could not stand, the slant
being great, although the water was perfectly calm.
Well, we had accomplished our trip, and very much we had enjoyed it. We
had really seen Iceland, that far off region of ice and snow, and had
returned safely. The six days on board ship passed pleasantly enough for
us; we had got accustomed to roughing it, and were all very good friends
with each other, and the few other passengers. We found one of these
especially interesting; he was a scientific Frenchman, who had been sent
to Iceland to write a book for the Government, and being a very poor
English scholar was very glad to find some one who could converse in his
native tongue. We hardly saw a ship the whole way, but we saw plenty of
whales, not, however, the kind which go to Dundee, where the whalebone
fetches from £1200 to £2000 a ton.
We brought an enormous skeleton home which was found off the coast of
Iceland; and such an immense size; it was sent to England as a curiosity
for some museum.
Occasionally we had lovely phosphorescent effects, and as we neared
Scotland, millions of pink and brown jelly-fish filled the water. At
Thurso we hailed a boat to send telegrams ashore--such a collection!--to
let our various friends know we had returned in safety from Ultima
Thule. That night as we passed Aberdeen we entered calm water, and there
was hardly a ripple all the way to Granton, where we landed at 3.30 on
Monday, 23d August, exactly twenty-four days from starting.
Such a lovely day! The Forth looked perfect as we steamed up to our
harbour anchorage. The grand hills and rocks and the fine old Castle
were a contrast to poor little Reykjavik, the capital of Iceland. The
pretty town, and the trees, how we enjoyed the sight of the latter, for
we had seen no trees for weeks, and their green looked most pleasing
amongst the stone buildings.
How busy, how civilised everything appeared! When will trains and carts
traverse the Northern Isle we had just left? Oh, but where are the
emigrants? Let us go and watch their surprised faces as they catch the
first glimpse of this new scene. We went, and were sorely disappointed.
They were merely standing together with their backs to the view, putting
on their boots, or occupied about minor matters, taking no notice
whatever of their surroundings, and receiving no new impressions. It
must require a civilised mind, we suppose, to appreciate civilisation,
just as it requires talent to appreciate talent.
Below is a table of our expenditure during our trip, which may perhaps
prove of service to one wishing to enjoy an uncommon autumn holiday:--
Five people travelling together for twenty-five days disbursed each £20,
1s. 8d.
Passage Money round Island and return, £8 0 0
Food, 6s. 6d. a day, 6 3 0
Steward, 10s., 0 10 0
Food taken from London, £2, 10s., or
10s. each, 0 10 0
Four days' ride to Geysers; two nights
Thingvalla; ponies, guides, tents,
sods, pasturage for ponies; milk,
coffee, etc., 4 0 0
Akureyri; going ashore, dinner, pony, etc., 0 6 10
Sanderkrok; " skyr, coffee, etc., 0 6 0
Bordeyri; " " " " 0 5 10
---------
£20 1 8
Wine not included.
Purchases, photos, washing, stamps, and other individual
personal expenses extra.