travelled easily over the crust, we still broke through it, which
occasioned me so much pain at every step that I sat upon the sleigh
and was drawn along until we had descended so much that the crust
ceased altogether. The snow terminated in a half-melted slush,
lying upon a bottom of ice. Wading through the slush, which at
times took us up to the waist, we next reached Kistufell, where
the ice and snow terminated. Here we landed on a bed of volcanic
débris, which covered the ice to such a depth that one could in no
way, except by digging, distinguish it from the adjacent fjall.
The Vatna Jökull now lay behind us with its mysterious recesses
and volcanoes carefully guarded from intrusion by gloom and
storm. To the north of us rose a cluster of mountains from which
great quantities of steam were rising, and hovering above their
summits in a huge mushroom-shaped cloud; to our left and west lay
a wide-spreading lava-field, arms of which stretched amongst the
neighbouring mountains like the troubled waters of a cindery ocean.
Patches of black sand at intervals broke the continuity of this
tract of lava, and culminated in a desert still farther to the
north-east. Beyond, all the weird forms of fire-wrought mountains
formed a fitting back-ground; their rude outlines rendered still
more uncouth and grim by the fierce storms of ages. A huge tongue
of glaciers at this point swept down to a distance of some ten
miles beyond its most northern limit, as represented upon the map
published by Olsen in 1844, from a survey made by Gunnlaugsson,
in 1835. I here caught sight of Snæfell; and, upon taking its
bearings with the smoking mountains, which were evidently the
Dyngjufjöll, I found that instead of being at Querkfjall, which
was the point I had intended to strike, we were upon the east
side of Kistufell, about ten miles too much to the west. What
astonished us most was (granted that we were at the east side of
Kistufell) that we could see nothing of the Jökulsá-á-fjöllum,
which river, upon Olsen’s map, rises at the foot of Kistufell;
besides, upon his map the Jökull ends at Kistufell, while here a
huge glacier extended east and north-east as far as the eye could
reach, though exactly to our north and north-west it terminated
abruptly, and only an insignificant river flowed to the north. We
here abandoned our sleigh and snow-shoes which had served us so
well, and whatever we no longer required, and, making everything
into packs, continued our descent over huge piles of moraine, which
doubtless covered glacial ice, buttresses and points of which here
and there protruded. Having slidden down several steep slopes of
snow, which had collected in all the hollows, affording us ready
means of descent, we found ourselves at the height of 3,850 feet,
in the bed of what evidently had been a large river, though now
only an insignificant stream.
To our east and right stretched the immense glaciers before
mentioned, completely overrunning the route taken by Gunnlaugsson
in 1835, and diverting the source of the Jökulsá, which rises
in several arms from the extremity of the glacial tongue before
mentioned. Upon our left and west lay the wide-spreading
lava-desert of the Ódáðahraun.
Our way over the sandy bottom of the grand old watercourse was an
easy one to travel, for the sand had absorbed sufficient water
to make it firm and compact. Our attention was engaged for some
time in watching the fanciful shapes that crowned the dark wall
of ice upon our right, on the opposite side of the stream which
now lay between us and the glacier; and now and then we could not
help stopping to peer into some of the dark chasms which seemed
to penetrate into the heart of the icy monster, and to admire the
little cataracts of foam which spouted from clefts in the dark
green ice, or to wonder at some icy pinnacle or turret, that ever
and again tumbled from, perhaps, some few hundred feet above us
with a roar and a splash into the river, there to be slowly melted,
while the sound of its downfall echoed and re-echoed amongst the
cavernous openings in the glacier from which it had fallen! After
an hour or so we settled on a low sandy island in the middle of the
river, which must have formed formidable rapids when the immense
stream that had hollowed out this mighty watercourse had roared
over its bed; but it was shallow enough now, and by judiciously
picking our way it scarcely reached up to our knees as we waded
to the little island. I here noticed, as I had often done before,
an intermittent occurrence of waves in certain portions of the
stream. These, in large rivers, are rather terrible things, but
here they were on so small a scale as to make their examination
simply a safe indulgence of harmless curiosity. These waves occur
in all the sandy rivers, and they are occasioned by the sand and
detritus, which is brought down by the river in large quantities,
accumulating against some obstacle until such a time as it forms
rapids, which increase in proportion to the durability of this
suddenly-formed sandbank. In most cases it readily yields to
the action of the water, and is carried away; if, however, the
material which is thus piled up should be of a heavier character
than usual, it soon accumulates to such an extent as to resist the
action of the water altogether, and cause the current to alter its
course. This shows how the rivers of Iceland may be diverted and
changed from this cause alone, converting shallows into deep water,
and deep water into shallows, indeed altering the position and
character of the rivers altogether.
As we lay down, the volcanoes in the Dyngjufjöll were smoking
away with increased violence. My frost-bitten toe would not allow
me to sleep much, so after a doze of two hours we started on our
way; we had but two days’ full rations left, and as Grímstaðir
was the nearest farm, a series of forced marches was necessary.
Before us to the N.E. was a cluster of hills, which stretched from
the southern extremity of the Dyngjufjöll in a S.E. direction
towards the Jökulsá, upon the east and west sides of which valleys
appeared to open northwards. Wishing, however, to get a good view
of the country before us, as neither of us had been here before,
and it was a matter of paramount importance that we should make
no mistake as to the direction, I decided to steer for the centre
of the hills, and to cross them. For a short distance we skirted
the tongue of the Jökull, past a line of moraine which shewed that
the glacier had ebbed as well as flowed, then bearing more to the
north, after a hard walk of three hours we reached the hills before
us. They were composed of the usual confusion of agglomerate,
sand and lava, which had issued from it--it was impossible to say
where; but they were evidently of a very ancient date, and many
of the harder rocks were glaciated, while the softer ones were
simply ruinous heaps. After an arduous scramble, we crossed these
hills and reached the little desert of black volcanic sand we had
seen from the northern edge of the Vatna Jökull. This sand plain
lay between the Dyngjufjöll and a chain of mountains upon the
opposite side of the Jökulsá-á-fjöllum. It was now raining somewhat
heavily, but there was no fog; the burdens of my men were heavy,
and I was carrying all I could manage with my bad foot. Under these
conditions we were obliged often to rest, which much hindered in
our progress. We sighted some low, black, misshapen volcanoes,
about half way across the plain, and near these we determined to
camp for the night. Two hours brought us to a field of lava which
had flowed from and surrounded those eccentric little volcanoes
which rose in four ghastly eminences in the centre of the plain,
in no part more than 100 feet high. Tired as I was, and greatly
inconvenienced by my foot, I could not refrain from examining them.
They were situated upon a crack from which the lava had welled up
in four mamelonic shapes, which in two instances showed irregular
breached craters, nearly filled with sand, which had been drifted
thither by the wind. The lava was basaltic, and of a remarkably
scoriaceous nature, though in the immediate neighbourhood of the
volcanoes no cinders were visible around them, so their eruptions
must have been attended with but little of explosive character.
The worst feature of our night’s lodging was the absence of water,
so I ordered the waterproof coats to be spread out to catch rain
for our use in the morning.
It was 1.30 A.M. before we all turned in for the night. Sand is
warm to camp upon, but it gets into everything, and when one is
wet it sticks to clothes, &c., in a most objectionable manner. By
six A.M. we were all awake, sufficient water had collected for
immediate use, and we were soon all under weigh over the lava,
which in most places flowed very evenly, and being of a more
compact character than that which was close to the volcanoes we
had just left, had allowed little pools of rain water to collect
upon the surface. We marched for four hours, and then struck
a large river upon our east. This was the Jökulsá-á-fjöllum.
After following its course for some time, we decided to “cache”
everything but the remainder of our provisions, our maps, and
my diary, for it was my intention to return with horses to the
Dyngjufjöll mountains which now lay to our N.W., when I could
recover them without much difficulty. Having carefully made our
“cache,” we planted a flag-pole upon an adjacent sandbank, and
having carefully taken its bearings, struck for the Vaðalda
hills, which were not very far distant. These hills run for some
nine miles parallel with the course of the Jökulsá; their base
being washed by the Svartá, or Black river, which rises in the
Dyngjufjöll, but is soon lost in the sand, re-appearing on the
Svartá at the commencement of the Vaðalda. Upon the opposite side
of this river we found a root of angelica (Icelandic, _hvönn_), the
stem and root of which we shared and ate with great relish; we also
saw two white sheep, but how they manage to eke out an existence
must have puzzled their sheeps’ heads not a little. Though,
proverbially, two heads are better than one, I doubt if the proverb
would hold good in their case, but there may be some grass in glens
which I have not seen in the Ódáðahraun, where enough herbage may
grow to feed Icelandic sheep, as they are not very dainty, and are
accustomed to short commons.
The Vaðalda hills, although of no great height, command an
extensive view towards the Vatna Jökull, and upon reaching their
summit I glanced back over the plain. It was one broad wilderness
of black sand and lava, girt about with ridges of volcanic
mountains, whose numerous cones and chasms have vomited the immense
amount of ash, sand and lava with which the surrounding country
is covered. In the centre of the plain rose the little volcanoes
by which we had encamped the previous night, grimly and perkily
protruding, as if they aped their monster brethren around them.
Beyond all was the wide, white expanse of the Vatna Jökull, from
which a huge tongue of glacier extended more than half way across
the plain; from its extremity commenced the river we had been
following (the Jökulsá-á-fjöllum), which stretched through the
black bare plain sometimes in many arms, enclosing little islands
of black sand and pebbles in its sinuous embrace, then surging
along through a single deep channel it had worn for itself in the
sand, where the unstable banks, even while we gazed on them, were
crumbling and falling in, patch after patch of sand rendering still
more murky its already discoloured waters.
From here I obtained the first good view of the Querkfjall, which
appeared to be a cluster of conical mountains, one huge crater
being on the northern side of the Vatna Jökull. This large crater,
though partially filled with snow, was smoking at three points,
but presented no other signs of activity. Having advanced about
a mile upon the Vaðalda, we were soon upon the pumice which was
ejected last year from the Öskjugjá, or chasm of oval casket,
in the Dyngjufjöll mountains. It has fallen in a line of about
twenty-five miles in breadth from the centre of the Vaðalda to
the south of Herðubreið, in a band of continually extending ladià
eastward towards the sea shore, destroying in its course six farms
in the Jökuldalr, and injuring others in the immediate vicinity.
This shows that the prevalent winds during the eruption of Öskjugjá
must have been south-west.
This pumice is of a remarkably vitreous nature and vesicular in
structure, often assuming very beautiful forms, such as sponge,
honeycomb, coral or grained wood. As far as the eye could see,
the whole country was buried under greyish cinders, often to the
depth of several feet; while in places it had been swept up into
huge banks of many feet in thickness by the wind, sometimes burying
whole lava fields, the more elevated crags of which protruded, as
if struggling to get free, and proclaim the existence of the lava
stream underneath. We descended into a valley in which everything,
like the surrounding country, was covered with the same white
greyish pumice, except where the darkly-flowing river wound
silently along, deep, black and foul, bearing upon its surface
floating islands of pumice.
The pumice had evidently fallen upon the winter’s snow, for a thick
layer lay underneath, protected by the cinders from the influences
of the summer temperature. Ever and again this substratum gave
way, and we sank deeply into a mixture of snow and ashes. It was
trying work, but we were well warmed, and pushed on at a good pace.
We again climbed to the crest of the hills, and another valley
opened to our view, running S.S.E., and another river not marked
upon Olsen’s map helped to swell the waters of the Jökulsá, while
the river at our feet poured through a rocky chasm it had worn for
itself; further on was a jam of floating pumice which blocked up a
portion of the river, causing it in some places to look precisely
similar to the adjacent ground. Presently, a wide plain opened
before us, from which rose a lofty mountain, shaped like a huge
pork-pie, crusted over with ice and snow upon its flattened summit,
which rose gradually to a fantastic, ornamental apex in the centre.
This was Herðubreið, and it was at once recognised by Paul, who had
been in the north of Iceland before. Beyond Herðubreið the country
was of a darker hue, no doubt caused by the absence of the pumice,
which had not fallen upon the sand and lava desert of the Mývatns
Örœfí. We now halted to determine our exact position. We found we
were about forty-five miles from Grímstaðir, and upon the north
end of the Vaðalda, and as it would be necessary to hit the exact
spot where the boat was kept, Grímstaðir being upon the east side
of the river and we upon the west, we agreed to follow the course
of the Jökulsá. This river, in the map, appeared to flow pretty
nearly straight, but in reality does no such thing. As food was
getting short we took a light meal off our pipes, and reviewed our
supplies. We had a half-pound pot of chocolate and cream, about a
pound of hard tack, half a pound of butter, and three square inches
of “gravy soup”--rather short commons for six men, with forty-five
miles, at the very least computation, of the very roughest country
possible before them, and which, as we intended to follow the
course of the river the greater part of the way, would be sure to
develop into considerably more.
There was a lovely yellow sunset as we descended the northern slope
of the Vaðalda; the sun was waning towards the north, and the
ashen covering of the surrounding mountains reflected an unearthly
light, which added a ghastly grandeur to the chaotic desolation
through which we were passing, while we ourselves, dirty, brown,
and wayworn, as we travelled almost noiselessly in our moccasins
over the ash-strewn ground, seemed fitting representatives of the
outlaws and evil spirits with which tradition had peopled this wild
region. A very suitable abode it seemed for all of evil omen, but
even such must have had a hard time of it if the country were in
their day such as it is now, which probably was not the case.
By two A.M. we rested, purposing to take a couple of hours’
sleep. I scooped out a place for myself in the cinders, and lying
down under the lee of a large stone, covered myself over with my
mackintosh coat. Unfortunately my men could not sleep as they were
so cold, so we soon resumed our journey. At five A.M. we were due
east of Herðubreið, where we took a slight meal, the most prominent
feature of which was water from the Jökulsá. We were travelling
over an old lava stream nearly covered with pumice, and the river
had assumed formidable proportions, having been joined by a third
arm upon the east side, which roared over the lava in its bed. The
sun was shining brightly, the clouds were beginning to melt away
from the summit of Herðubreið, leaving a cloudless sky; a slight
frost was glistening upon everything and stiffening our beards, the
pumice was getting thinner and thinner, and presently altogether
disappeared. Before us lay a broad waste of sand and lava, and
in the far distance loomed the mountains of Mývatn, which Paul
recognised as old friends, as some years of his life had been spent
in the Mývatn sveit. For the first few miles my foot troubled me a
good deal, but as soon as I got warm the pain ceased, and as the
day promised to be hot, we made the most of these early hours.
Following the course of the river, we found ourselves upon a plain
of sand and pebbles, and as we advanced, a little scanty herbage
began to make its appearance, while occasional sheep tracks showed
that sheep in this quarter were, as usual, wont to stray from
richer and more plentiful pastures to those which afforded but
a poor and meagre supply. By 8.30 we reached the little river
Grafalandá, which here flows into the Jökulsá; and here there was
plenty of grass. The sun now shone warmly, and as we were not more
than twenty-seven miles from Grímstaðir in a straight line, we lay
down and slept for two hours. Upon rising we still followed the
river, which, as before remarked, is by no means a straight one.
Our road now lay through a considerable quantity of thick herbage,
principally galix and coarse grass. Some hills here interrupted
our progress, the base of which was washed by the river, and since
no way was possible between the river and the over-hanging cliffs,
for the river here took a great turn eastward, we decided to ascend
the hills. The summits of these, as is often the case in Iceland,
were formed of stones imbedded in sand and decomposed rock, after
the fashion of a loosely macadamized road. This is doubtless caused
by the heavy covering of the winter’s snow, which presses down the
stones, and then as it melts converts the material in which they
are embodied into slush, into which the fragments of rock, &c.,
readily sink, so that when the water has drained off and the fine
weather comes, it is found transformed into a kind of cement, for
the decomposed fellspathic lavas especially set very firmly under
such circumstances. By three P.M. we reached a delightful little
mountain stream brawling over the rocks and lava, fertilizing the
parts of the mountain through which it ran, and calling into birth
green borders of galix and grass, forming a beautiful little
cascade directly in our path. Here we halted; the sun was intensely
hot, but it felt rather comfortable than otherwise. Here we found
an abundant growth of angelica, which we ate with the remainder of
our provisions. We then washed our socks and laid down to sleep,
lulled by the bubble of the stream and the sweet fresh smell of
the herbage around us, which our long absence from everything that
could produce so agreeable an aroma rendered all the more welcome.
Evening came before we again started, and our road was through a
deep loose sand, which was very trying and heavy to our feet, for
beneath this was a layer of pure white ash of the consistency of
flour--probably decomposed pumice. When this was mixed with sand,
it seemed to be a good fertilizer, for wherever it occurred a patch
of wild oats was the invariable result. Before we again reached the
river, we found it cut directly through a cluster of low mountains,
striking a field of very dark and almost vitreous lava. By midnight
we sighted Grímstaðir to the S.E., upon the opposite side of the
river, although at some considerable distance, and the ferry was
beyond the farm, to the north of it. We followed closely down the
bank of the river that we might not miss it, for there was no track
to guide one across the Mývatns Örœfí, and it was a good three
hours before we found the boat, which was a leaky concern, but by
dint of bailing and rowing we eventually reached the opposite side.
Five A.M. saw us arrived at Grímstaðir, much to the surprise of the
occupants, who had not at all expected the intrusion of six men _on
foot_ at such an hour, and from such a quarter.
The bóndi having been roused, the whole establishment turned
out to have a look at us. Grímstaðir was decidedly the best and
most extensive farm I had seen in the island, except, perhaps,
Breiðarbólstað in Rangarvallasýsla. The bóndi was a good type of
the genuine old-fashioned Icelander, and everything in the place
was cleanly and comfortable. He had passed all his life in the
north of the island, and had not ever journeyed to Reykjavík.
There was a good-sized windmill in front of the farm, to grind the
rye and wheat sold by the store-keepers; and this was a very great
improvement upon the old stone handmill so generally used in other
parts of the country, especially in the south. Windmills seem to be
rather a characteristic of the north of Iceland. My first object
was to procure coffee and a good meal; this having been secured,
I proceeded to purchase four sheep, and give instructions for
their death and disposal. One was destined for immediate use, the
other three to be made into pemmican, their skins being dried for
carriage to England.
What a glorious institution is a bed! What a happy thought it was
of the man who first conceived the idea of taking off his clothes
before turning into it! What luxury! a tub, hot water, soap, a
sponge, a towel, clean sheets, an eiderdown quilt, a little tallow
for my poor sore nose, and sleep! What sublimity of comfort!
Well, I slept as only a well-worn traveller could sleep, till I
was roused by the novel sound of a knock at the door of my room.
“What’s the matter? Who’s there?” My watch said twelve o’clock.
It was the bóndi’s daughter, with coffee and a plate full of
delicate little pancakes, each carefully rolled up with a few
raisins inside, and nicely powdered over with white sugar. Forgive
the weakness, good reader, but that little tray! Can I ever forget
it or its contents, to say nothing of its comely bearer? Will I
have any more? Oh yes, by all means. My mid-day meal became an
interesting speculation, to say nothing of the comely bearer of it,
through whom I ordered sheep’s fry, and ere long was greeted with
its savoury smell.
Paul had gone to Reikjahlíð to try and hire a man and some horses
to enable us to go to Öskjugjá (the volcano we had seen smoking),
for my own horses had not yet arrived, but I learnt that it was
almost impossible to obtain either horses or men, as all were
engaged in gathering in the hay harvest.
In the afternoon two students arrived from the college at Reykjavík
to spend their vacation in the north, and a merry evening we had of
it with my men, who were in high spirits at having fairly reached
the Norðurland by a route which had never before been trodden by
the foot of man, since their island first rose above the waters of
the North Atlantic--a feat that would immortalise their names in
local Icelandic history!
We had then travelled from Núpstað in the south of the island to
Grímstaðir in the north, a distance of about 270 miles, in sixteen
days, twelve of which had been passed amongst the regions of
perpetual snow. I must here remark that the pluck, perseverance,
and obedience of the Icelanders who accompanied me are deserving of
all praise; for without them I could never have crossed the Vatna
Jökull. The next day was Sunday, and at breakfast I was informed
that the bóndi would read a service in the baðstofa, an apartment
for general use. This room was filled with little truck bedsteads,
and somewhat reminded me of a hospital. All the household were
gathered about, neat and orderly, sitting on the bedsteads, and
the service consisted of singing, reading, and prayer.