of ground, where a few sheep managed to sustain a miserable
existence on cinders and salix, though further to the north and
east there are excellent pastures. The lava stream was basaltic,
and presented the usual chaos of black crags, waves, and fanciful
shapes, blisters, and heaps of clinker. It was intensely black,
and still hot; thin, pungent choking fumes being emitted in
all directions, while from various places puffs of steam were
constantly bursting out. This stream, or rather, these two streams,
which have since joined one another, I find have flowed from a long
fissure in the plain, the course of which was marked by a line of
conical mounds thrown up by the eruptions in the late spring; of
these a fuller description will be found upon another page, and an
account of the previous eruption in the Appendix.
We climbed a few hundred yards over the lava stream, but could not
reach the mounds from which the lava had flowed, on account of
the deleterious fumes exhaled from them. The fissures were lined
with various sublimations, to the thickness in some places of
half-an-inch. Amongst them chloride of ammonia was very prominent,
but this was in a state of rapid deliquescence. It might have paid
to collect it, for the quantity was considerable.
We next turned more than a mile out of our course, to a part
where Thorlákur expected to find some water, for we were all very
thirsty. Our road, however, was over old and viscous lava for
some distance, and we came upon some coarse hillocky grass land,
in a line north of the lava stream. Here we encountered a variety
of fissures which had been formed by the earthquake, several of
which, Thorlákur informed me, had cast out sand, stones, and a
little lava. We found only dry pits at the place where Thorlákur
had expected water, so nothing remained but to strike westward for
Reykjahlíð. No doubt the various cracks and fissures so recently
formed in the plain accounted for the absence of water.
The new lava obliges a traveller from Grímstaðir to Reykjahlíð to
go three miles out of his way. We here crossed a depression of
about thirty feet, extending over several square miles, caused by
the late volcanic disturbances. In the vicinity of this depression
the ground was upheaved and much fissured. Thorlákur informed me
that the depression was formed shortly after the first eruption
in the Mývatn Orœfí in the preceding spring. We were, however,
soon amongst the hills of Mývatn, where we obtained some water,
and before long ascended the Námufjall, whose dirty yellow, red
and brown sides, had in some places the appearance of washed-out
posters. Here the smell was filthy. In this locality the treasures
of the Northern Sulphur Mining Company are situated, but as I was
thinking more about my supper than the hidden wealth of the hills
over which we were riding, I will say more about them presently.
A wadi near the summit which divides the Námufjall upon the south
from the Dalfjall upon the west, brought us to the western side
of the sulphur hills, where we first caught sight of the Lake of
Mývatn, or Midge-water, upon the north end of which Reykjahlíð is
situated. Lake Mývatn is seen to the best advantage at a distance,
but it cannot lay claim to great beauty of appearance, although
certainly both remarkable and interesting. Surrounded as it is
with volcanic mountains, and rugged lava streams stretching along
its shores, studded with misshapen little islands, it presents an
eccentric and striking aspect. A short ride past spluttering and
steaming solfataras brought us to the farm of Reykjahlíð, where
we were hospitably received by the bóndi Pètur Jónsson, who was
expecting our arrival.
Reykjahlíð is of the average better class of byre. The farm is a
good one, and has been in the possession of the same family for
600 years. I was glad to find Paul and the rest of my belongings
awaiting us, and anything but displeased to receive the information
that an Englishman occupied the guest chamber. My compatriot I
found to be Mr. G. Fitzroy Cole, who was making a survey of the
neighbourhood for the Company purposing to work these northern
sulphur mines. I also heard that a sulphur prospecting party,
under the guidance of the well-known Captain Burton, had only just
left for Húsavík, upon the sea coast. The guest chamber being thus
occupied, I shared another room with Paul and Thorlákur, and in
the morning I had the pleasure of making Mr. Cole’s acquaintance,
sharing the guest room with him, and likewise a magnificent salmon.
The two days following I rested, as the weather was so
unfavourable. I also paid off all my men excepting Paul and Olgi,
and sent them home to the south. Mr. Cole in the meantime left,
so I proceeded to investigate the sulphur mines for myself. These
I found to be situated in the Námufjall, upon the eastern side of
the Lake of Mývatn, and these collectively are designated the
Hlíðar-Námur; they consist of a series of solfataras, which occur
not only upon the Námufjall itself, but extend a considerable
distance upon either base of the mountains. The Námufjall is
composed of palagonitic agglomerate and lava, the solfataras being
simply pools of calcareo-siliceous mud, formed by the decomposition
of the lava and agglomerate. Upon the surface of these pools the
sulphur sublimates in crusts varying from half-an-inch to several
feet in thickness. The phenomena of solfataras are so well known
that it is needless for me to dilate upon them in the abstract.
However, I first examined the west side of the Námufjall, where
I found both active and latent fumeroles, the former spluttering
and fizzing, and tranquilly steaming, the latter in the form of
cold accumulations of sulphur, siliceous clay and gypseous earth.
I was able to follow the tracks of the sulphur exploring party,
who had preceded me. They had dug into the sulphur crust upon the
surface of the solfataras, and in some places had excavated the
calcareo-siliceous clay, which hardens into a species of sinter.
This clay likewise contains a percentage of sulphur; at all events
the specimens I obtained varied from 5 to 40 per cent. In many
places I found crusts of sulphur covered over with light _débris_,
which a little digging showed to extend for a considerable
distance. Roughly estimating it by stepping the length and breadth
of the various conspicuous sulphur patches, and lumping the
smaller ones together, gave about twenty sulphur-covered spots of
twenty square yards, upon which the crust of pure sulphur averaged
probably half a foot in thickness. On ascending the Námufjall by a
deep gulley worn by the rain in the side of the mountain, we found
this gulley to be cut through several feet of a friable arenaceous
agglomerate, formed by atmospheric action on the disintegrated
constituents of the rocks composing the Námufjall. Passing various
patches of steaming sulphur, we reached the summit, where we
found several solfataras which bear perhaps the thickest deposits
of sulphur, though, in the aggregate I should hardly think they
extend over so large an area as those upon the western side of the
mountain. This mountain is capped by several castellated masses
of basaltic lava, much weather-worn and decomposed by the acid
vapours evolved from the surrounding solfataras, which upon the
eastern slope are decidedly the most extensive to be met with, and
I imagine they contain more pure sulphur than either the summit or
the western side. Of course when speaking of the relative amount of
sulphur, I allude to the exposed crusts, and there must be a great
deal more sulphur than appears upon the surface.
Upon the east base were circular pools of bluish boiling slush,
which emitted a fœtid smell somewhat resembling the effluvia which
so disgusted us at the Öskjugjá. These pools boil with great but
intermittent violence, sometimes splashing the scalding mud to the
distance of four or five feet. They have surrounded themselves
with walls of hardened mud a few feet in height, and from a breach
in two of these walls I should imagine that these springs were
occasionally subject to paroxysms of extraordinary violence. While
approaching the most northern of these slush cauldrons, the earth
on which I was walking gave way, and I slipped into a fissure
up to my armpits; a violent burst of steam from beneath me was
the immediate result, and I was glad to be extricated from this
unenviable position by my companion Olgi. It was indeed fortunate
the fissure was not filled with boiling slush, or I might have
been scalded even more severely than was my travelling companion,
the Rev. J. W----, in 1874, in the solfataras of Krísuvík, in the
south of Iceland. This fissure had probably been formed by the
earthquakes in the spring, and had at one time been filled with
slush, which had hardened on the surface, and afterwards flowed
away through some other channel, leaving a treacherous pitfall
for any unlucky tourist who, like myself, should have a fancy to
closely examine these slush pools.
On returning to the west side of the mountain, and on my way to
Reykjahlíð, I took the liberty of scraping off all the sulphur
from a small solfatara, which I piled in a heap by the side of it;
for the grand question for the Sulphur Company to consider, to my
mind, appears to be--how long does this sulphur take to accumulate?
I trust Mr. Locke, the owner of these mines, will forgive me the
trespass; but in a year’s time he will be able to form some idea of
the rate of accumulation. I shall feel curious to know how soon the
sulphur will again accumulate.
We next returned to Reykjahlíð and supped with the bóndi Pètur
Jónsson, his son-in-law, Thorlákur, and Paul. The former seemed
a little aggrieved at the sulphur business generally, and from
what I could gather, it had from time immemorial been a sore point
as to whether the sulphur mines belonged to his family or to the
Danish Government. There could not be the slightest doubt about
the matter, but I could scarcely wonder at the existence of such
a feeling; for a family who had owned the neighbouring country
for 600 years might naturally think the intervening mountains
were their own fee simple. This feeling quite accounts for any
brusquerie the Sulphur Prospecting Expedition may have met with.
I can only bear testimony, that during my stay at Reykjahlíð I
received the kindest attention, that I had the best of everything
there was in the place, and that the charges were moderate. Old
Pètur informed me that he was building a stone church in place of
the old turf and wooden structure, which required repair. He had
plenty of stone, but his chief difficulty was the want of lime; in
fact, he had been obliged to import all he had hitherto used from
Denmark, which of course was very expensive to him; so I advised
him to try and burn the gypsum from the solfataras, and instructed
him how to set about it, which piece of information seemed to
rejoice his heart exceedingly.
The old church in question is the veritable building, with some
additions and improvements, concerning the escape of which from
destruction during the eruption of some craters to the S.W. of
Krafla, in 1720, so much has been said and written. Suffice it to
say, that the lava could not have reached the church unless it had
previously filled up the Lake of Mývatn. My day’s work ended with
making preparations for a visit to Dettifoss.
The morrow brought very unsatisfactory weather; it had snowed
heavily in the night, and the mountains and ground were white, a
piercing north-west wind was blowing, and it seemed as if we had
suddenly jumped into mid-winter; however, by nine o’clock we were
on horseback. As we journeyed on we were much amused and surprised
to see hay-making going on in the middle of a snow storm; but still
it was the fact that the good people of Reykjahlíð were busily
engaged in the tún (home field) mowing grass, and piling that which
had been cut a day or so previously into cocks, that it might
receive as little injury as possible. Leaving Reykjahlíð behind,
we crossed the rugged lava at the west base of the Námufjall, and
ascended the winding path of the Námu-skarð which divides the
Námufjall from the Dalfjall, and turning to the north pursued our
way by the side of an ancient lava stream, covered with verdure,
and thence bending sharply to the north-east we reached the little
bothy of Skarðsel, a poor dilapidated hut of turf and lava blocks,
which sheltered some of the servants from Reykjahlíð, who during
the summer months tend the sheep in the neighbouring grass land.
Here we took a good draught of milk, and leaving behind us a large
piece of Mr. Cole’s salmon, some hard tack, chocolate and schnapps,
to refresh us upon our return, we crossed the Sandbalnafjöll by
means of a sandy pass, and reached the plain of the Mývatns Örœfí
amid a blinding storm. Our route lay again over lava, covered with
sand, which I was informed had been ejected by Krafla. On, on,
N.N.E., the storm utterly defying our tattered mackintoshes. A
little herbage had begun to make its appearance, and presently we
were galloping over excellent sheep pastures, varied occasionally
by barren stretches of sand and pebbles. Several times, however, we
were stopped by fissures which had been very recently formed in the
plain, probably by the volcanic action of the previous spring, but
very insignificant in comparison with those we had previously met
with in the Mývatns Örœfí. At last, after about six hours’ riding,
we sighted the column of spray arising from the Dettifoss, and soon
after we descended into what appeared to have been the bed of a
large river, most likely an ancient bed of the Jökulsá, which may
have been diverted to its present channel by an earthquake; while
upon ascending its eastern bank, the dull roar of the Dettifoss
reached us. Climbing over crags of basalt we rode to the edge of
the river, where we dismounted upon a patch of excellent grass,
and thence obtained a good view of the cataract, which is very
imposing. The Jökulsá is here about 250 yards across, and roars
along in a series of rapids, till its broken and foaming waters
pour down a perpendicular wall of basalt at least 200 feet in
height, into a chasm some hundred yards wide, seething and boiling
in pent-up wrath, forming a “riotous confluence of water-courses,
blanching and bellowing in the hollow of it,” until, released from
this confinement, it softens, a few hundred yards further down,
into a broad swift-flowing stream of milky water. The Dettifoss is
by far the largest waterfall in Iceland, and, I believe, in Europe,
being about the size of the Canadian Niagara Fall. The only view
obtainable, however, is not calculated to impress the beholder with
an adequate idea of its height, for one has to look down upon it,
which is always a disadvantage: still, although the Dettifoss lacks
the beauty of Niagara, it does not convey the impression of the
thinness of the body of water, as does the Transatlantic cataract;
for the grace and beauty of the latter are greatly enhanced by
its surroundings of richly-wooded heights and the clearness of
the water. Although Dettifoss is much smaller than the Falls of
Niagara in their entirety, nevertheless, it is a grand and terrible
spectacle, and is all the more striking on account of the diablerie
of the wild scenery by which it is environed. There is an upper
cascade, but of no great height, and it is scarcely worth naming
beside Dettifoss; for one waterfall is so much like another, that,
after having seen several of the largest, one rather tires of the
similarity, unless there be some distinguishing peculiarity to
enliven the interest.
When satiated with admiring the scenery at this part, we took a
light meal, and commenced our return journey amid pouring rain.
It was past midnight before we reached the west side of Mývatns
Örœfí; and as the mist had somewhat lifted from the hills, I turned
my horse’s head towards Krafla. Upon reaching the height of a few
hundred feet the mist again beat down upon us; besides which the
snow lay so thick in many places that it became very dangerous for
the horses in the half-light and fog. We therefore abandoned Krafla
for the moment, and taking the first gill which ran in a southerly
direction, we descended to the little hut where we had left our
salmon and reserve supply of provisions. The good folks were in
bed, but one of the women immediately got up to assist us, and the
other produced, first the bottle of schnapps, and then, one by one,
the biscuits and the chocolate, from what appeared to be the only
cupboard in the place, viz., from underneath the bedclothes. As the
bed had three occupants, I was in terror lest my salmon had been
stored in the same undesirable repository, but fortunately it had
been put up outside. The biscuits and chocolate might have been
none the worse for their safe storage, but they were unpleasantly
warm, and I preferred to wait for the salmon, which with some good
coffee, sheep’s milk, and schnapps, was not to be despised by a
hungry traveller who had been exposed to the storm for nearly a
score of hours.
We reached Reykjahlíð at five A.M., and I turned in for a short
sleep, till breakfast at seven o’clock, and then we made our start
for Krafla. Over the Námufjall again, by the Námu-skarð, a gill
of solfataras, we passed the parti-coloured heaps, slopes, and
accumulations, which reminded me of the refuse from some huge
dye-works, and turned to the north along the east base of the
Dalfjall, skirting a lava stream upon our right hand. Hereabout
the aspect was much improved by (for Iceland) a luxuriant
overgrowth of dwarf birch and salix. Crossing hence to the base
of Sandbalnafjöll, we drew up for a minute at the little hut of
Skarðsel for a draught of sheep’s milk. Pursuing our way over a
lava field covered with alluvium, we hastened on towards Krafla. We
hobbled our horses at the base of the high ground between Krafla
and Leirhnúkur, and forthwith commenced the ascent, passing several
solfataras of no great importance, their chief characteristic
being the production of abominable smells. Soon after we reached
comparatively level ground, which extended for some distance at the
S.S.W. base of Krafla proper. Cheered by the sight of our horses
making tracks for home, in spite of their hobbles, we now continued
along the south-west margin of a crater-lake, which probably was
more than two miles in circumference, its length equalling about
twice its breadth, being surrounded by steep slopes of clay,
disintegrated rock and fragmentary _débris_. There was a similar
crater further to the N.N.W., of more circular form. Following
along a neck of land between the two, we commenced the ascent of
Krafla proper, which is a sub-conical mass of agglomerate, pierced
to the summit and in many other places with intruded lava. The
sides we found to be everywhere strewed with all kinds of volcanic
_débris_, amongst which were numerous trachitic masses, some of
which contained atoms of iron pyrites, and although these occurred
very frequently in loose fragments and masses, I was unable to find
any _in situ_. Half-an-hour’s hard climbing next brought us to the
summit, which my aneroid shewed to be scarcely 3000 feet above
Reykjahlíð, or a little under 4000 feet above sea level. On looking
around we found upon the high ground to the west several pools of
clear water, probably small crater lakes, as doubtless were the
two depressions immediately beneath us to the south-west. My guide
informed me that it was from the most northern of these that the
last eruption of Krafla proceeded, and that the water in it used to
be hot; he also told me a fact which was afterwards corroborated by
his father, that Krafla had never been known to erupt lava, having
cast out only ashes, pumice, sand and water; indeed, the aspect
of these pit craters would lead one so to imagine it. I was also
much surprised at not finding any obsidian, for I had heard so much
of the obsidian of Krafla; but on further inquiry I ascertained
that it is only found on the portion of the mountain known as the
Hrafntinnuhryggr (the obsidian back), and there it only occurs in
fragments--indeed, the only obsidian I have met with _in situ_ in
Iceland is at Mount Paul, in the middle of the Vatna Jökull.
The summit of Krafla commands a most extensive view. Looking
south-west, over the hills beneath, with their dirty splotches of
whitish yellow sulphur, the country looked wintry indeed after
the snow storm of the previous day, while the eye as it wandered
southward caught a fine view-range over the Hliðarfjall and
Dalfjall, as well as over the straggling lake of Mývatn, where the
scenery widened out over the Mývatnsveit towards the snow-capped
Seljalandsfjall, standing out like an island in the commencement of
the dark stony sea of the Ódáðahraun. In another direction, between
the snow-covered hills upon the east side of the Skjálfandifljót
and the smoking Dyngjufjöll, the view extended over the pitiless
waste of the Ódáðahraun to the snowy mound of Skjaldbreið, while
the broad white expanse of the Vatna seemed to join the sky, till,
almost wearied with the strain upon the visual power, it seemed
quite a relief to turn to the nearer and happier-looking spots of
green which the volcano and the glaciers have spared to Iceland.
Further to the east are the Bláfjall, where the Fremri-Námur
deposits of sulphur are situated, and the fire-scorched hills
of Trölladýngjur, whose position on the map Captain Burton has
corrected, and the lordly Herðubreið, whose snowy cap looked all
the purer for the recent snow storm. To the east and north-east
stretched the plain of the Mývatns Örœfí, with its black patch
of new lava enshrouded in a dim mist. Bearing N.N.E. was a tall
column, apparently of steam, upon which the sun was shining; it was
the spray from the Dettifoss, varying in shape as the wind acted on
it, and reflecting rainbow colours in the sunlight. To the north
the prospect was between the Hágaunguhnúkur (high-going hills) and
Jónstindr, over a level country to the hills of Theistareykjafjall,
where a third large deposit of sulphur occurs. It was seven P.M.
before we returned to Reykjahlíð, and in a few hours we bade
adieu to old Pètur and started along the eastern side of Lake
Mývatn, accompanied by Paul and Arngrimur, for the little lake of
Grœnavatn. The road was a bad one, over a continuation of lava
streams which had flowed into the Lake of Mývatn, forming the
curious little islands that spotted its sedgy waters. We put to
flight several of the duck tribe, which were enjoying themselves
after the manner of ducks upon the margin of the lake, and reached
Grœnavatn at three A.M.; this was very slow work, but the nature of
the ground prevented our travelling at anything beyond a walking
pace for the greater part of the way. One of the principal features
of this ride was the numerous gates which had to be opened and
shut; these marked the termination of the various holdings, and
also prevented the sheep belonging to the different homesteads upon
the side of the lake from straying; for very often, where the gates
were situated, the lava prevented the passage even of sheep by any
other way.
The occupants of the farm at Grœnavatn may be described as “a happy
family.” The two sons of Pètur of Reykjahlíð, Jón and Arngrimur,
had married the two sisters of my previous guide, Thorlákur, and
he, by way of returning the compliment, had married one of their
sisters. They were all living under the same roof with Thorlákur’s
father, and together managed their thriving homestead.