crater, which was almost its southern extremity, and there I found
its height by my aneroid to be about 4500 feet above sea level,
the angles by my azimuth compass being from Herðubreið 40° west,
Skjaldbreið 103° east. From this point the floor of the crater
appeared more bent about and upheaved, while many of its gaping
fissures seemed much wider than before, doubtless the result
of the longitudinal view of them which the position commanded;
in fact, each fissure seemed trying to excel its neighbour in
making the most horrible noise, while emitting the most nauseous
smell. I doubt if even Cologne, in all its former nastiness and
“thousand well defined and separate stinks,” could have produced
anything so utterly putrid and abominable as the effluvia which
were wafted to the summit we were standing upon! At one point it
seemed just possible for us to reach the floor of the crater, and
as it would save us a considerable detour if we were able to cross
it, we packed up and began again to descend a very precipitous
slope of pumice. From thence we descended as far as 750 feet, and
then found our way barred by the interior rim of precipice before
spoken of. Hitherto we had been unable to see its full extent from
the overhanging wall of the crater, but from this vantage-ground
it seemed to be about 300 feet deep, while the floor appeared to
be dark mud: many of the fissures must have been twenty or thirty
feet across, and others at least a quarter of a mile in length.
I tried to measure the precipice by flinging over a large lump
of the heaviest pumice, but it gave no sound as it reached the
bottom, for it was so light I could not fling it far enough to see
where it struck, hence we were afraid to go to the extreme edge of
the precipice on account of the loose and crumbling nature of the
rocks. Nothing now remained for us but to climb back again. This
was no easy matter, because of the great angle of the slope, so
I was compelled to dig my sore toes into the pumice with all my
might; and in one place, for a distance of some 200 feet, to dig
steps with my ice axe. We reached the summit at last, very warm,
but very glad to be at the top instead of at the bottom of those
750 feet, for had we slipped, we should in all probability have
fallen to the bottom of the crater. At last we arrived at the plain
of Askja by following along the top of cliffs upon the eastern
side of the crater, and there we found everything covered with a
dark brown loam, which was still falling thickly around us. I next
inspected the pit I had noticed in the morning, which was situated
by itself at the top of the precipice, and found it about a quarter
of a mile in circumference. Upon looking into it, for a long time
nothing could be seen but dense clouds of steam and loam which
were rising from it with intermittent violence; but after a while
a large portion of the margin slipped in, and stopping the steam
for a few moments, enabled us to discern a black funnel-shaped pit
tapering towards the bottom, from which huge volumes of steam were
again beginning to rise; then came a sudden burst of hot steam,
loam, and stench, which again compelled us to make a precipitate
retreat. I next investigated every part of this side of the crater
in order to see if I could by any means descend to the floor of
it, but I found the interior precipice extended all round, and at
every point prevented my doing so. We therefore camped but a short
distance from the pit, that we might be the better able to watch
the wonderful and varying manœuvres which from time to time were
enacted.
The worst of our position now was, that it lacked both snow and
water, but the loam made us a tolerably nice soft bed, and we slept
soundly. Soon, however, a heavy fall of loam upon our tent awoke
us, and our eccentric friend outside was uttering such fiendish
noises, and giving off such a putrid stench, that we thought the
better part of valour was to retreat; so we hastily packed up
amid a copious shower of loam, our movements being quickened by
the surmise that we might also be treated to a little pumice and
hot water. Moreover, the stench was beginning to tell upon us,
causing us to feel sick. We next proceeded along the N.N.W. side
of the crater, as I wished to count the number of paces along it,
in order that I might approximate the size, which I found to be
about one and a quarter miles in length. The ground was now much
fissured, and disclosed in many places the snow of the previous
winter at the depth of six feet beneath the pumice, as well as a
quantity of loam which had been flung out by the volcano. After
breakfasting beside one of these fissures, at mid-day we turned our
backs upon what I can imagine to be one of the most marvellous,
and perhaps I may add, one of the most indescribable sights the
world can anywhere present! On resuming our journey, we set our
faces towards Skjaldbreið, alias Trölladyngjá, and the first part
of our journey was across the little plain of Askja, over a lava
stream, which here enters from the Ódáðahraun, and had run for
some distance up hill. The loam which had been showered down by
Öskjugjá had taken the edge off the lava, which was a great source
of comfort, and soon we were glad to sight the broad black desert
of the Ódáðahraun. There was the snowy mound of Skjaldbreið,
spotted with black lava, with its curious tuft of rock at the
top, somewhat similar to that on Herðubreið. Before us there was
Kistufell, by which we had first descended into Norðurland, and
behind all, the broad expanse of the Vatna Jökull, sweeping the
horizon from east to west, where it appeared in the distance to
be joined by Tungufell and Tindafells Jökull. From here, we could
not see the Sprengi Sandr, which lay between them, but perceiving
through my telescope a patch of snow upon the hills which almost
joined Skjaldbreið upon the east, I determined to strike a line
across the Ódáðahraun to it, that I might take another rest and
relinquish all our loads before we ascended Skjaldbreið the next
morning.
I may here remark that the Ódáðahraun is a desert of sand and lava,
extending over an area of 1200 square miles, the greater part of
which seems to have flowed from Skjaldbreið, so I think it must be
one of the oldest lava flows in Iceland, for this volcano has not
erupted since 1305. Some of the lava may, however, have flowed from
the Dyngjufjöll, or, possibly, from fissures in the plain itself.
I could, however, trace no distinct stream from the above-named
mountains, nor has any one, I believe, travelled along the west
side of them for the purpose of ascertaining. In several places the
lava of the Ódáðahraun has run up hill. This, I believe, has been
occasioned by the crust which flowed upon the surface of the lava
stream, constituting a sort of pipe with the ground upon which the
stream rested; and the air being thus excluded, the still liquid
lava underneath has acted in the same way as water would when
enclosed in a pipe, by finding its own level, or approximately so,
according to its degree of fluidity. At any rate it took us five
hours to cross the Ódáðahraun and reach the snow patch I had seen.
There we rested, and early next morning, accompanied by Thorlákur,
I set off for Skjaldbreið, leaving Eyólfur, who was very tired,
in camp. We next followed an immense lava stream about half-way
up the mountain, and during the early part of our walk I several
times heard the muffled sound of water running beneath the lava.
When about half-way up, we reached deep indurated snow, through
which protruded the black hummocks and masses giving Skjaldbreið
such a mottled appearance when I first saw it from the Dyngjufjöll
mountains. Skjaldbreið is, however, nothing but a huge mound of
basaltic lava, partially covered with snow, rising by a very
gradual slope to about 4000 feet above sea level, and from it has
evidently flowed the greater part of the Ódáðahraun, though, as all
the neighbouring mountains seem to have erupted at some period or
another, it is but fair to presume they have also helped to swell
this vast wilderness of volcanic dregs; but I have been unable
to trace any lava stream in the Ódáðahraun to any other source
than Skjaldbreið. The summit of Skjaldbreið I found was thickly
enveloped in clouds, so I stopped when within 300 feet of the top
to look at the surrounding country. To our north lay the arid
waste of the Ódáðahraun, the unearthly desolation of which I have
never seen equalled. Truly, it may be said that it extends over
but a small area when compared with many of the mighty deserts
in other parts of the world, but there is a forbidding, yet
fascinating grimness about this which is an especial characteristic
of Icelandic scenery, and as this savage region extends as far
as the eye can see, it produces none the less vivid impression
upon the mind of the beholder, although one can refer to the map
and find that it extends over only about 1500 square miles. When
first gazing at a dreary Icelandic lava desert the sensations are
something akin to those experienced when for the first time one
sees a prairie immediately after the fire has swept across it; but
although one is conscious that there may be a million instead of
a thousand square miles of burnt, black, cindery country around,
it does not impress one with its awful magnificence and grandeur
of desolation as the Ódáðahraun does. To the north and east were
the Dyngjufjöll mountains, with their volcanoes smoking away with
renewed vigour in the cold morning air. A point further to the east
was the long weary route we had just traversed, stretching away
bleak and bare to where the grey pumice in the distance gave the
country the appearance of lying in bright sunshine. To the south
rose the Vatna Jökull, cold and gloomy, with its heights wrapped in
fog and mist. Kverkfjall and Kistufell, however, were exceptionally
clear; the former was smoking in three places, and a great quantity
of sand and lava appeared to have proceeded from it. Between us
and the Kverkfjall swept the broad tongue of glacier, reaching
two-thirds of the way northward towards the Vaðalda hills, and
from its extremity I counted five arms of the Jökulsá which issued
from it, while the small stream from Kistufell was hidden by the
intervening hills. We next continued our journey to the summit, and
then found a small but perfectly formed crater, about 500 yards
in circumference, but of no great depth, while in the centre rose
a ridge of burnt lava, which gave the mountain the black tufted
appearance I had noticed in the distance.
The latest eruptions, I should imagine, from the contour and
disposition of the surrounding lava, have taken more the form
of prodigious boilings over than of explosive outbursts, and it
seems as if it had continued to burn tranquilly long after its
last outburst. From here we descended a short distance upon the
north-west side, in order to get below the fog, and obtain a view
of the country to the west. The same dreary desolation presented
itself--the pure white Jökull, with the black sand and the rugged
lava fields were alike cold, silent, motionless, and dead! The
mountains were a little different in form, but there was the
same grand desolate wilderness, seeming ready to blast every
living thing that dared to intrude on its enchanted solitude. We
therefore returned to camp, and were not sorry to sit down to a
good breakfast of pemmican, bread and butter, and water. The sun
shone fiercely at midday, and the heat, radiated by the sand and
lava, became so great that we rested till the cool of the evening,
when we struck for the south-east end of the Dyngjufjöll, which
we reached about midnight, but as a thick fog descended upon us,
I steered close along the base of the mountains, preferring a
little circuit to wandering about all night in uncertainty upon the
plain. Our course from here was over an old lava stream, buried in
light volcanic dust, which was very trying to travel over, for we
sunk rather deeply into it, and had to stop every now and then to
empty our shoes, which were constantly becoming filled with sand.
At length we struck upon the pumice, which showed we were nearing
the volcano of Öskjugjá; soon after we came to a small stream, and
being all very thirsty, the water was highly appreciated. Seeing
that the pumice increased, and fearing we should be getting too far
to the east, I resolved to follow the course of the next stream,
conjecturing that it would bring us down to the pools by which we
had made our cache. It was a crooked way, but it brought us right
at last; for as the mist dispersed we sighted the pools, and it was
not long before we gladly lighted upon our cache. The first thing
that came to hand was a box of Fry’s chocolate powder, so we all
sat down upon our packs and with our broad knife blades began to
operate upon the powdery treasure. Eating chocolate powder we found
was thirsty work, so having emptied the box, we took a good drink
of water, pitched the tent, and turned in.
We had hitherto been using stones for tent pegs, but here there
were none to be had, and as we could not now avail ourselves of
little screws of hay, as we had done when last camped upon the same
spot, we took off our mocassins and buried them, with a string
attached to each, at intervals round the tent; these answered the
purpose of pegs very well, and as it is always necessary to bury
untanned mocassins while resting, to prevent them from shrinking
and becoming too hard to wear, we, by this device, managed to
“kill two birds with one stone.” After a good sleep, I debated on
the possibility of reaching the Kverkfjall, which I particularly
wished to examine, but the Jökulsá and a long stretch of country
lay between us, and as Thorlákur assured me if we did so we should
have soon “_to go on our naked feet_,” it was a matter for grave
consideration what was best to do. The lava had already played sad
havoc with our foot-gear--we had each of us worn out four pairs
of mocassins since we left Grímstaðir--and those which were doing
duty as tent pegs were almost played out, while there were but
two pairs remaining in our small stores, which was anything but
encouraging. Moreover, we had a long way before us yet; so all
things considered, I came to the conclusion that Kverkfjall was
impracticable. I determined, therefore, to ascend the Dyngjufjöll
again, and from the peak above us take a farewell look around,
directing Eyólfur in the mean time to carry all our things to a
small stream at the foot of the mountains, about two miles north
of our present position, which could be easily done in two shifts.
Accordingly, I began my climb accompanied by Thorlákur, but our
progress was continually interrupted by deep “gjás,” or fissures,
many of which were of great depth, probably several hundred feet.
In some cases, however, we found bridges of snow and pumice, by
which we were able to cross these chasms.
At this time the sun was wending its way westward across the snowy
slopes of the Vatna, as we reached the top of this part of the
Dyngjufjöll, and really language quite fails me when I attempt to
describe the wildness of that view! Behind us was the volcano,
from which vast volumes of dark smoke and steam were rising; the
various mountains which studded the sterile wastes before us were
all clothed in the same dull grey covering; the black sand of the
Mývatns Örœfí was just visible to the north, and as far as the eye
could see eastward, there stretched a series of mountains, valleys
and wasted plains. During nearly two hours we might almost be said
to have slept in the view before us; indeed, I was hardly conscious
how the time had gone until the sun seemed to have slipped behind
the Hofs Jökulls, giving their snows a golden outline, while my
watch reminded me that it was nearly 11 P.M.
The atmosphere now turned very cold, the frost was already
sparkling upon the surrounding rocks, a purple glow stole over the
mountains, blending their softened outlines with the tinted sky,
and we felt that a little brisk work would sensibly add to our
comfort. Our descent afforded us some amusement, sliding down the
steep beds of small pumice, which we did at a furious rate. It had
taken us more than three hours to ascend the mountain, but less
than one to come down it! We found Eyólfur where I had directed him
to wait; making a good meal, we patched up our mocassins as well as
we could by moonlight, and by a different route to that by which
we came we struck a straight line for Herðubreið. Ultimately we
reached Herðubreið with the sun, and I was not at all sorry to find
myself on my way home; for increased inflammatory symptoms in my
great toe showed that a liberal application of blue-stone and rest
were absolutely indispensable to its cure. The weather by this
time appeared very uncertain, for the heavens were spotted all over
with masses of golden nimbus, drifting rapidly before a wind which
was blowing above, though the atmosphere beneath was perfectly
calm, which are invariably indications of storm in Iceland.
We were now clear of the pumice, and after a hard scramble over
some very rough lava, part of which had flowed from an ancient
volcano not marked upon the map, about eight miles S.S.E. of
Herðubreið, part, apparently, from the Dyngjufjöll mountains, and
some from Trölladýngjur (Troll’s bowers). Here we camped by a pool
of water.
Herðubreið, whose trigonometrical height is 5447 feet, is a
snow-covered cone, resting upon a perpendicular mass of rock,
whose height equals about twice the diameter of the cone. Upon its
south-east and west sides are tali of disintegrated and greatly
weather-worn rocks, and bulging, misshapen masses of agglomerate.
At every point except the S.E. and N.N.W. the sides are perfectly
perpendicular, presenting walls of about 2000 feet from the base of
the mountain to the commencement of the snow-covered cone; it is
surrounded by a dry sandy foss, and choked in places with rounded
_débris_, which had fallen from the agglomerate of which Herðubreið
is principally composed.
Probably the most remarkable feature of this mountain is that no
streams of water flow down its sides, while the base of most other
Icelandic snow-capped mountains are generally watered with streams,
which, as we have already seen, often disappear in sandy or
cavernous ground; but here all the water which must result from the
melting of the frozen accumulation upon the summit of Herðubreið
seemed utterly lost, until it issued in springs such as those which
form the source of the Lindá, at a considerable distance from the
base of the mountain, or collects in pools such as Herðubreiðvatn.
The gulleys which had in many places worn the side of Herðubreið
into the fantastic forms so peculiar to this formation
(agglomerate), appear to be the result of rain and wind, and the
only points from which the mountain is assailable are the S.S.E.
and N.W. It was from the latter that Captain Burton attempted it in
1872, and that experienced traveller seems to regard it as the core
of a much larger mountain; possibly such may be the case, but its
shape is decidedly against its being a volcano of anything but the
most ancient order. History tells us, however, that this mountain
has erupted upon several occasions. The eccentricity of its form is
sufficient to suggest any amount of speculations as to its origin
and character, while nothing but a careful investigation of the
mountain from the base to the apex could enable anyone to arrive
at a satisfactory conclusion. The palagonitic agglomerate (which,
as I have said, constitutes the greater part of the mountain), is
of so friable a nature, and so rapid is the erosive influence of
the Icelandic climate, while so disturbed and metamorphosed has
the whole of the island been by volcanic agency, that one ceases
to wonder at the eccentric shape and anomalous character of its
mountains.
I much regretted being compelled to pass by Herðubreið without
attempting to ascend it, but our foot gear was in tatters and my
sore toe required immediate attention, so we camped in a large
gulley of sand and lava, which extended a mile or more, gradually
rising to the level of the plain towards the south. Here, while we
were lying with the tent spread over us all, blanket fashion, and
had just dropped off to sleep, we were suddenly awakened by such
a blast of wind, and a deluge of the finest sand and pumice, that
for the moment I didn’t know what it was. At first we started to
our feet, only to get our eyes full of finely-powdered pumice, and
as I tried to speak I got my mouth full. We saw all the smaller
articles of our packs making the most speedy tracks for the more
settled portions of the country. I tried to save my hat, but in so
doing kicked my bad toe against a lava block, tangled my feet up
in the tent rope, and fell down, the latter being about the most
sensible thing I could do, for in a few moments the gust was past
and I could look up.
Blind with the sand, and wild with the agony it was occasioning
us, we all rushed for the water, and opened our eyes in it. While
so doing there came another gust, which compelled us to wait upon
our knees, keeping our heads in the shallow water until it was
over; and then, soaked with sand and water, we made our way back to
where our things had been. I say _had been_, for all were not there
then; my broad-brimmed Danish hat, and half my small etceteras were
gone, and, worst of all, my map and case, where were they? Four
white spots upon a lava field a quarter of a mile away caused me to
run--yes, run--bad toe and all! However, my painful and spasmodic
effort was amply repaid by the recovery of Olsen’s map, which had
been nicely mounted and packed up in a case by the bookbinder at
Reykjavík; now, even the bookbinder would scarcely have recognised
it. Its journey across the Vatna Jökull had not improved its
“personnel,” but the short cut it had made through the neighbouring
pool had in some places rendered it illegible. Fortunately the
Vatna Jökull and its surroundings, with my various markings, were
miraculously preserved, but its case I never saw again.
To return to camp. Everything that had been buried in the sand had
been dug out, and just as we were about to start again another gust
came sweeping down the gulley, half smothering us. We buried our
faces in our mackintosh coats until it was past, when my companion
Thorlákur remarked, “This is not fine;” to which I assented in
the most emphatic language my stock of Icelandic would command.
We now made very fair progress over the lava field, where, under
an overhanging lava block, we bathed our eyes with sulphate of
zinc and rose water, which had often been a great relief during
my Icelandic journeys, and I advise all travellers who may follow
in my wake by no means to omit taking so essential a medicament.
We soon reached the grass at the source of the Lindá, which river
rises from a single spring about two miles N.N.E. of Herðubreið.
Here we took the rest we had been unable to obtain at our last
halting-place, and by evening we reached the remainder of our party
at the Grafalandá, where I was rejoiced to find our horses and a
good supply of provisions, which had been sent with a kind note
from the good people of Grímstaðir, who had sent us some pancakes,
flat bread, coffee and milk, and the latter, though sour, was very
acceptable. From Vopnafjörd I also had ordered some schnapps and
chocolate; so that we made what seemed to us a right royal feed,
and after a good wash, I enjoyed a night of sound rest in the
sleeping bag, which had previously sheltered my men who had been
waiting for us upon the banks of the Grafalandá.
At 5 A.M. the next morning we were on horseback, and away over the
sand and the lava of Mývatns Örœfí, leaving the Vatna Jökull and
the land of the outlaws behind us, enveloped in clouds of light
grey dust which were blown up from the pumice by a S.E. wind. This
dust, I must explain, was of the most irritating nature, resembling
finely-powdered glass; our clothes got saturated with it, and I
was already beginning to feel its effect in the severe abrasion
of skin it was inflicting upon me. By 12 A.M. we were level with
Grímstaðir, only much more to the west, and here we stopped to
allow the horses to graze off the wild oats, for the heat of the
sun was intense. After lunch we must all have taken a nap, for
suddenly looking up, I found it was one o’clock, and the horses
were nowhere in sight, and more than an hour elapsed before we
recovered them. Having secured the vagrant animals, we made for the
new lava, which was produced by the eruptions of last spring in the
Mývatns Örœfí. Sulphurous and acid vapours had long announced its
proximity, although the wind was unfavourable for their reaching
so far. This lava stream, which is about fifteen miles long,
and varies from one to three broad, has flowed almost entirely
over ancient lava streams, most of which have flowed from an old
crater situated in the vicinity, called Sveinagjá. The new lava
extended to about an English mile to the north of the old road from
Reykjahlíð to Grímstaðir.