again astir and in our saddles; but I was sorry to perceive that
the weather had changed for the worst, which was a serious thing
for us, seeing that we had a long, bad road before us, as well as
a tiring journey to perform under various difficulties, enough
to daunt the sturdiest of us. To add to our misery the clouds
above were black as ravens’ wings, and a fierce wind blew in such
piercing gushes that we could scarcely stand against them, as they
came bursting on straight into our very teeth. As I shuddered
beneath the blast, I consoled myself with the thought that such
a parting with Iceland was, after all, quite characteristic; and
soon one poetic notion after another took such possession of me
that by the time I had got thoroughly awake I began to find myself
growing quite warm with excitement, and of course less sensible to
the real severities of the storm. True to his kindly nature, and
well sustaining the character of his countrymen, my old friend the
bóndi of Ísholt resolved to see me part of the way on my journey;
and although unwilling to trouble him, I must certainly acknowledge
the extreme pleasure this trifling act of courtesy and kindness
afforded me. And when at last the hour arrived for us to separate,
we shook each other heartily by the hand, and cheered ourselves in
a parting cup which drained the last of my schnapps. “God speed”
having been expressed on both sides, I resolutely turned my back
upon the fascination of the distant mountains, and faced the
driving storm of wind and sand to thread my way southward.
Our route at first lay over a series of low terraced hills, and
presently a wet tedious ride brought us to a cluster of small stone
cairns, round which were collected a number of horses’ bones, not a
very cheering sight to our own animals, and they seemed rather shy
of the ghastly remains of their ill-fated brethren.
While looking on this sad sight, Paul told me it was often the
custom to write a verse, and leave it in a bone upon such a mound
as this for the next traveller, and, accordingly, I wished to do
so too, but could not find one suitable, and so we felt ourselves
relieved from the responsibility of keeping up the “old custom.”
It would have been all the same, however, if we had desired to do
so, for the cheerless prospect of fog and rain, with the apparently
boundless Sprengisandr around us, varied only by an occasional
glimpse of some snowy Jökull, would have been sufficient to freeze
the most gushing of poetical ideas.
Wishing to quit this spot without delay, we determined upon taking
the route known as the Arnarfells-vegr upon the west bank of the
Thjórsá rather than follow the track upon the east, as by doing
so we should be able to cross the numerous smaller rivers whose
confluent waters form the Thjórsá, one by one, instead of having to
wait perhaps a day or so, until the waters of the Thjórsá should be
sufficiently low to enable us to ford them.
In the course of our journey we passed between Arnarfells Jökull
and Tungufells Jökull, and thence bearing to the west, we got as
close to the former as possible in order that we might cross these
smaller arms at their source. Some of these arms, I imagine, must
be very difficult in warm weather, for even upon this cold and
stormy day they were in many places over our horses’ girths.
Arnarfell, upon the N.E., rises from a band of glaciers, from
which steep slopes of snow sweep up to the black peaks of
Arnarfell-hið-Mikla which must be of considerable altitude, a
little more than a Danish mile away from the termination of the
glacier. The nature of the ground we were traversing precluded
the possibility of quick riding, hence it took us five hours more
to reach Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, which was to be our destination for
the night. This elevation is a cluster of eminences formed of
agglomerate, which has been weathered into peaks of considerable
height, and these are traversed by several dykes and intruded
masses of basaltic lava. Here we found a good patch of grass and
angelica, extending along the sides of Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, as well
as along the banks of the river washing its eastern base.
Our arrival at this part disturbed a bevy of swans, which at this
season of the year (August) lose the feathers of their wings, of
course preventing their flight. Taking advantage of this, chase was
immediately given, and four of their number very soon captured.
I am glad to say the next morning showed us a more cheery prospect,
for a stiff breeze blew from the N.W., and although the clouds
hung upon the mountains, the sun occasionally broke through,
encouraging us to put some of our wet things out to dry. While
this was being done I ascended the Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, and was
well repaid for my trouble, for the clouds were lifting from the
adjacent mountains, which gave me a peep at the Vatna Jökull, as
well as the more western hills, over the broad plain lying between
it and the Arnarfells Jökull. The Sprengisandr is here cut up
by a network of rivers and streams, which upon our side of the
Sprengisandr all flowed into the Thjórsá. We now pursued our way
with a bright sun shining upon us; the ground was in most places
covered with swampy moss, which was much better travelling than the
stones of the preceding day. Many streams with quicksands had to
be crossed, whose waters were all the deeper for the fine weather
we were enjoying. Turning thence directly southwards we struck the
main stream of the Thjórsá. Travellers to the south who take the
eastern route generally cross this stream at this point, but they
are sometimes detained for days in consequence of freshets, which
may occur at any season of the year; therefore the west side of
the Thjórsá, though a little longer, is found to be much the surer
road. Here we saw a number of sheep grazing upon the opposite bank,
belonging to farmers in the south; and as may be well imagined, we
hailed their appearance as the first sign of the “Suðurland” we
were approaching.
After a short enjoyable halt here, we continued our journey to a
point between the rivers Kisá and Miklilœkr, where we encamped. On
continuing our journey, an uninteresting ride over an undulating
and gradually descending moor, which in fine weather commands a
good view of Hekla, brought us to an ancient lava stream which had
flowed from the Rauðu Kambar, an old volcano lying to the west of
the road, and here again we found ourselves amongst lava, pumice
and black sand.
I will not weary my readers any longer by continuing a description
of the monotonous dreary scenery met with at this stage of my
journey, and in fact as I trudged along dreamily, recalling to
mind the many incidents that had crowded themselves upon me since
I had been on the island, my eyes had been as it were blind to
the surroundings to such an extent that more than once I was only
recalled to them by the stumbling of my faithful horse, the rolling
of a boulder, or an extra fierce gust of blinding wind; and then,
once more reminded of the fact that I was still a traveller, I
gazed around like a wanderer amongst the sepulchres of a past race,
awe-struck with the lifeless condition of the place, while my mind
wandered back from the silent scene to the one or two living giants
(Öskjugjá, &c.) that still existed, lonely examples of the activity
and power of an age so far removed from the world’s history as to
be lost in antiquity, and yet still so vigorous as to fulfil the
important and wonderful mission of connecting the present with the
most primitive ages of the world.
Well, after trudging along several miles in this dreamy mood we at
last arrived at the Skriðufell farm, but here, I regret to say, we
found no welcome, for the farmer was a noted churl, and instead of
offering us the same generous hospitality as all others had, he
positively refused the smallest assistance, even going so far as to
object to let us put our horses under the old roof of an outhouse.
My companions pleaded in his behalf that he could not help it, as
he had had the misfortune to be crossed in love! which I was very
sorry to hear, and sincerely trust no similar calamity might happen
to spoil the other inhabitants.
However, being compelled to push on again by this unpleasant
contretemps, we made as much haste as we could, and were soon
pleased to find ourselves in front of a poor little homestead,
where we were glad to find a generous welcome, plenty of good
milk and other necessaries, of which we availed ourselves, being
made truly welcome. After this brief halt we again pushed on to
the Hagafell along the banks of the Hagafjall, with Hekla full in
sight, its summit being, as usual, enveloped in clouds. Here we
obtained a good night’s rest, and wishing to obtain some specimens
from the Great Geysir, I decided to reach Reykjavík _viâ_ Geysir
and Thingvellir, although it was the longest route, and accordingly
in the morning we made our way towards Hruni, upon the banks of
the Kálfá. I next turned a little out of my way to examine a white
buttress of rock protruding from a grassy hill upon our right hand.
This proved to be a ridge of intruded trachytic lava, extending a
considerable distance; I mention this as it was the only instance
of purely trachytic lava which I had met with, excepting in a
pumiceous form. Here we were most cordially and hospitably received
by the priest of Hruni, who would not allow us to depart without
bringing out a bottle of his best port wine, and hearing an account
of our experience. It was late in the night before we arrived at
Great Geysir. One of the principal objects of my visit to this
part was to seek a box of minerals I had entrusted to the care of
the farmer of Haukadalr to take to Reykjavík in the previous year,
but which had never come to hand, though he protested that he had
delivered them according to my directions, however, I set about
collecting fresh specimens, which was no very serious trouble.
Great Geysir did not favour us with an eruption, as we had wished,
so we stirred up Stroker with the usual meal of turf, which caused
it to spout, but scarcely to the same height as when I witnessed
its performance in 1874. In the evening we left for Thingvellir,
but as we did not arrive there till one A.M. we did not awake our
friend the priest, who, on rising, found us lying asleep, with
the tent covered over us, upon the grass just outside his door.
This good gentleman upbraided us for not waking him up, brought
out everything of his best, and gave us a hearty breakfast, for
we were old friends. Five hours’ hard riding later on brought us
to Reykjavík, where I again put up at the house of friend Oddr
Gíslasson, who had two Scotch ladies staying with him. These I
found to be Miss Oswald and Miss Menzies, who had been making a
prolonged tour in the island--a plucky undertaking, which perhaps
may encourage other ladies to seek health and amusement amongst the
wild rocks of salubrious Iceland, undeterred by the fear of having
no other escort than an Icelander.
Upon the arrival of the Post ship, I was amused to receive an
extract from the “Evening Echo” of August giving a most deplorable
account of my health and personal appearance after crossing the
Vatna Jökull. Though it amused us all at Reykjavík, I felt sorry
to think of the unnecessary distress and anxiety it might cause to
my friends at home. If such were the motive of the writer, it may
gratify him to learn that he succeeded admirably. However, any one
of the Sulphur Company would at once have pronounced the statement
to be false.
I rejoiced in the possession of two pairs of Alpine boots, but I
preferred wearing Icelandic mocassins, they being easier to walk
in. I had also two coats, but always preferred wearing a tight
knitted jersey and waistcoat, which were much more convenient for
movement, while I generally prefer a knitted cap instead of a hat,
for a cap draws down about the ears and keep them warm, and is less
at the mercy of sudden gusts of wind. It seemed curious how such
a worthless little piece of pure imagination could gain access
to London newspapers. The simple facts are, I sent a carefully
written letter, giving a succinct account of my journey across
the Vatna Jökull and my visit to Öskjugjá, the effects of which
volcano were creating much discussion in England at the time.
This letter Capt. Burton kindly forwarded for me to the “Times,”
and it was set up in type (as the proof came into my hand on my
return), but for some reason or another, best known to the editor,
it subsided into the waste paper basket, while a more lengthy
letter I afterwards wrote to the same journal, giving an account
of the eruption in the Mývatns Örœfí, appeared in full. There are
anomalies in the civilized world which confound one even more than
the idiosyncracies of nature.
With the Post ship came several tourists who were bent on making a
few days’ excursion in the island. We therefore made up a party,
including Miss Oswald, Miss Menzies, Mr. Young, of Edinburgh, and
myself, to pay a visit with Oddr Gíslasson to some solfataras
belonging to him at Cape Reykjanes, and a very pleasant trip it
was, though the way was extremely monotonous, being as usual over
a series of lava streams flowing from the Krísuvík mountains.
The part of the S.W. peninsular we were traversing was called
the Vatns-leysuströnd, or waterless strand; here there is no
fresh water to be obtained except upon the beach where the lava
streams terminate. These can often only be reached at low water,
and then, as may be imagined, the water is brackish. Two days’
journeying brought us to Kirkjuvogr, where Oddr Gíslasson’s mother
and brothers-in-law lived. It is one of the best homesteads in the
south, besides having about the largest piece of grass land on this
peninsular. It is also a fishing station of some importance, lying
as it does upon the south bank of a little boot-shaped creek named
Oscar. We were very kindly received, and the next day rode on to
the solfataras of Reykjanes at the extremity of the peninsular. The
day was miserable, and we were unable to get a satisfactory view.
These solfataras, however, are remarkable, as the acid and heated
vapours have here, as in other places, formed extensive pools of
calcareo-siliceous mud, hardened in some instances into almost a
semi-opal, coloured and streaked with blood-red stains from the
ferruginous nature of the rocks which have been decomposed, but the
sublimations of sulphur were very insignificant.
The most remarkable feature of the locality occurred where the
lava was not much decomposed by the erosive action of the vapours,
and upon splitting such masses of the partially decomposed rock,
scarlet vapours could be seen issuing from crevices beneath,
coating any surface that was partially exposed to the air with a
film of iron pyrites. Further up the side of the old volcano, at
the base of which these curiosities are to be found, are pools and
pits of blue, red, and green boiling clay. While in this locality
the rain continued and the fog became more dense, and as it would
have been anything but pleasant to be caught in a thick fog amongst
the lava and solfataras of Reykjanes, we curtailed our visit, and
returned with all speed to Kirkjuvogr.
The next day, wishing to avoid the tedious road over the lava by
which we came, we rode to Njarðvík, where we hired a sailing boat,
and returned by sea to Reykjavík. Here I found that Captain Cockle
and Mr. Slimond had returned by the Post-ship with the welcome
intelligence that the steamer “Queen” would arrive in about a week,
and sail almost as soon as the old tub “Diana.” This was indeed
good news to us all, for we had determined to return by a small
sailing ship belonging to a horse-trader, Mr. Ascham, rather than
subject ourselves to the floating purgatory of the Diana.
In due time the “Queen” arrived, and I bade Iceland and Icelandic
friends farewell, feeling satisfied with my summer’s work, and
consoling myself with the thought that I had accomplished the
little piece of “utter folly” I had thrice undertaken. I resignedly
committed myself to the evils of sea-sickness, from which I had
scarcely recovered when we arrived at Edinburgh, two days before
the Diana, which had sailed from Reykjavík a day before the Queen.
Here I accepted the hospitality of Mr. Slimond, of Leith, and
greatly enjoyed British fare and a relapse into civilization.
“Ah!” my reader may say with a smile, “after all the toil and
trouble undertaken the wonders seen could not have been worth the
toil and privation.” My readers, like myself, must by this time
have grown somewhat weary of the eternal repetition of lava,
pumice, &c., &c., and therefore we will mutually congratulate
ourselves upon being able to vary the subject with reference to
scenes and subjects more lively and civilized; but I must most
respectfully demur to that conclusion, for if the general aspect of
nature throughout Iceland be dreary and wild, there is also plenty
to reward a man of scientific and athletic inclinations. Indeed
the same tiresome pumice and lava and sand, when placed beneath
the power of the microscope, is found to possess such wonders
and exquisite beauty of form, that the beholder is struck with
admiration and astonishment to find so much perfection treasured
up in such rough settings, giving material for many an hour of
patient study and enjoyment which has alone fully compensated for
the hardships of the journey across the Vatna Jökull.
APPENDIX.
It may now be as well to take a retrospective view of Iceland to
determine the opinion we have formed of the Icelanders themselves,
and sum up the leading physical features and characteristics of
the country. Iceland, apart from its historical and literary fame,
which it is not our purpose to consider, is of especial interest
to the geologist and the physical geographer. It lies almost at
the northern extremity of the great volcanic line which skirts
the extreme west of the Old World, extending from the island of
Jan-Mayen in the Arctic Ocean, through Iceland, the Faroe Isles,
Great Britain, the Madeiras, the Azores, the Canaries, along the
west coast of Africa, right away down to the Antarctic island of
Tristan d’Acunha; and its equal as a centre of volcanic activity
can alone be found amongst the islands of the Pacific Ocean. The
peculiar manner in which we here find ice and snow mixed up with
the igneous productions of its volcanoes imparts a grim beauty to
its scenery, that I can well imagine we might travel the whole
world over without seeing surpassed. A very short sojourn amongst
the weird rocks of Iceland arouses that latent superstition which
will lurk in the minds of even the most materialistic, and while
we laugh at the mythological credulity of the ancient Icelanders,
we cannot help acknowledging that a more fitting place to create
an implicit belief in wraiths and demons could not possibly be
found, all the way from the elf and pixy dancing amongst the timid
flowers, whose bright eyes peep from sheltered rocks in ancient
lava streams, to the hobgoblin and the ghoul, moaning and shrieking
and performing their nameless deeds upon blasted peaks and barren
mountain-tops, where fire strives with frost.
This remarkable little island was colonized 1002 years ago by
Norwegians, though its earliest settlement is involved in some
obscurity. It afterwards became subject to Denmark, until the
year before last, when it received its legislative freedom. The
Icelanders are upon the whole a harmless, struggling race, and
like most other nations that have been unable to draw upon the
arteries of other countries for renewed vitality, are encumbered
with that contentment which, however conducive it may be to
domestic ease, is fatal to advancement. The last twelve months,
however, have introduced the element of enterprise which before
was only conspicuous by its absence. This may result from
their newly-acquired liberties or the reflective influence of
emigration; at any rate it augurs well for Iceland, whose emigrants
have already shown that the Icelander contains a good deal of the
right sort of stuff in his composition, and the determined pluck
of those who accompanied me across the Vatna Jökull shows us that
the spirit of their Viking forefathers, who visited both Greenland
and America long before the birth of Columbus, is not yet extinct.
Pre-eminently perhaps in the Icelanders’ character stands love
for his country. It is a remarkable fact that the more barren and
unfruitful a country is, the stronger seems to be the attachment
and love of the sons of its soil. This trait appears very strongly
in the Icelanders’ national song, the first stanza of which runs
thus--
“World old Iceland, beloved fosterland,
As long as the ocean girds our shores,
As long as lovers for their sweethearts sigh,
As long as the sun shines upon our mountains,
Thy sons shall love thee.”
There is great room for improvement in the home industries of
the country, especially in the art of cheese-making, for the
milk is rich and excellent, and there is no reason why cheese
should not be produced in Iceland that would find a ready sale in
European markets. The Icelandic wool, which is unsurpassed, might
be likewise worked at home during the winter to a much better
advantage; for many choice woollen productions which would command
a high price have long ceased to be manufactured. There is also
room for improvement in the breeding of stock, and much valuable
grass-land might be reclaimed by proper drainage.
The climate of Iceland is very uncertain, but it is much milder
than might be expected from its latitude. This is doubtless owing
to its insular position, and the influence of the Gulf Stream, one
arm of which touches its southern shore. The summer begins in June
and ends in September, and during those months the climate is very
similar to that of the north of Scotland. The rainfall, especially
in the south of Iceland, is very great during the summer, but
thunderstorms seldom occur except in the winter. Upon the
mountains the climate is still more variable, and I have sometimes
experienced a variation of sixty degrees between day and night upon
the snows of the Vatna Jökull, at the height of some 4,000 feet
above sea level. But few vegetables can now be grown in Iceland--a
modicum of potatoes, turnips, radishes, and cabbages alone eking
out a struggling existence against an adverse climate, and seldom
attaining to what we should consider maturity. The trees of Iceland
are mere bushes of birch, willow, and a little ash, and even these
are but rarely met with. The chief exports of the country are fish,
oil, tallow, wool, horses, sheep, and Iceland spar, but it is to
be hoped (now the sulphur mines in the north of Iceland are about
to be worked) that in the course of a year sulphur may be added to
these. The imports are some of the luxuries and a good many of the
necessaries of life. So much for Iceland itself; we will pass by
its history, people, exports or imports, and forthwith consider its
physical characteristics; these may be defined as the volcanoes of
Iceland and their products, the hot springs, the Jökulls, or ice
mountains, and their effects upon the climate. Iceland contains no
less than twenty-two mountains that have been witnessed in active
eruption during historical times. The best known volcano is Hekla.
This remarkable mountain rises directly from a plain that has been
devastated by its repeated eruptions. As the mountain is approached
from the north-west its form appears to be that of an oblong cone;
it is about twenty miles in circumference, and 5,000 feet in
height; it is capped by three smaller cones, the product of recent
eruptions. Its craters are all upon the west and south-west sides,
and most of its lava streams have flowed in that direction.