ACROSS THE NORTHERN INHABITED FRINGE
[Illustration: PACK-SADDLE AND BOXES.]
The next day was a busy one with us, because Akureyri was to be our
starting-point for the journey across the interior, and there were
numerous preliminary arrangements to be made. The fogs and thick
weather had delayed our arrival at Akureyri by a day. We ought to have
set out from Akureyri on the day after our arrival, but the delay at
sea had rendered that quite impossible, as may be imagined when I
mention the facts that besides personal effects there were provisions,
tents, bedding, etc., to be packed; that we were eleven persons in
all (our own party of six, a conductor and manager of affairs, and
four guides), and that thirty-eight ponies were required for our
transport. Of course arrangements had been made for all this long
before our leaving England; ponies and everything else were there,
but all required a lot of "licking into shape." Our manager was up to
his eyes in it all day. The members of our party, however, had less
to do, for when we had bought oilskins and sundries, and had sorted
out and packed our personal effects into boxes specially made for the
purpose--boxes that were to be carried on the ponies, one on each side
of the pack-saddle--we were free to do as we liked for the rest of
the day. It happened to be the anniversary of the Celebration of the
Thousand Years of Freedom, and a festival was being held in Akureyri;
so, on attaining _our_ freedom, we made our way towards the fête
ground, a spot named Oddeyri, a sort of suburb about a mile away, on
a spit of land running into the fjord. There we found the Icelanders
assembled in force. People from all the surrounding country were
there--men, women, and children; all had come on ponies, which were
dotted about in groups, or straying separately over the spit--there
were hundreds of them. The Icelanders were amusing themselves much as
would the villagers at an English country fête. They were eating and
drinking, and engaging in contests of various kinds. Races were being
run, there were gymnastic competitions on "horse" and horizontal bar,
and there was some wrestling also. The last was decidedly good and
interesting. Each competitor grasped his opponent's right shoulder
with left hand, and with the right took a firm hold of the other's
waistband. Then the fun commenced. The opponents danced around each
other, watching for opportunities. Their movements were very amusing,
but some of the throws were very cleverly effected. In the evening, at
about 8 P.M. that is, dancing commenced. A platform had been prepared
for the purpose; this was railed round, and there were seats, on which
the girls sat awaiting partners. The custom in choosing a partner is
for the man to approach the lady of his choice and bow to her; she
acquiesces by rising from her seat, when the couple waltz off together.
Just before the dancing commenced, a good-humoured, rubicund man,
short of stature, whose well-rounded figure denoted that he was not
averse to the good things provided by the gods, ascended a rostrum
at one end of the platform, and from there addressed the assemblage.
To us who were not acquainted with the Icelandic tongue, his remarks
were unintelligible; but by those around who were listening to his
utterances, they seemed to be much appreciated, and their smiles and
laughter showed that the orator, a fluent speaker, was a popular man
and a humorist of no mean order; indeed, one had but to look at his
expressive face when he was speaking to learn that he was a "funny" man.
[Illustration: AKUREYRI AT MIDNIGHT.]
Between the town of Akureyri and the basaltic mountains to the
westward that rise to a considerable altitude, there is, filling
the interval, a series of morainic hills, the material of which has
come down the Eyjafjorthará valley, or from the mountains beside it.
These hills present the appearance of a terrace partly worn down and
scored by the action of water and melting snow. No doubt the basaltic
mountains once formed the side of the fjord. An hour or so before
midnight, Miss Hastie, Thomas, and I climbed the hills to the terrace,
in the hope of getting a glimpse of the midnight sun, for the night
was almost cloudless. The sun was shining brightly, but it was quickly
approaching some mountains near the entrance to Eyjafjord, behind which
it would soon be hidden. We failed in the object of our climb, for the
mountains referred to were of considerable elevation. Time would not
allow us to attack the mountains in the rear of Akureyri and ascend by
midnight to an altitude above that of the obscuring hills, so we had
to descend unsatisfied. Though we did not actually see the _sun_ at
midnight, we could see its _light_ shining on the mountain tops two
or three miles away, and we knew that it was above the horizon. So
good was the light that Thomas and I took photographs of the town, one
looking north and the other south, just at midnight--with stop _f32_,
exposures of one minute and one minute and a quarter were required for
medium plates.
We were to have made a start at eleven o'clock the next morning, but
fate was against us. At the appointed hour the members of the party
were ready and waiting, but guides, ponies, pack and riding saddles,
tents, provisions, etc., were _not_ ready, and we could not well
start unless they were. Saddles and gear required many repairs--most
of them had been hired, and they were not in the best condition. Our
manager of affairs was to be seen flitting about settling up accounts,
giving directions to the men, inspecting saddles, bridles, girths,
and gear, and generally trying to reduce confusion to order. For an
hour or more we were amused, but then we began to get impatient. Three
of us got hold of a saddle and bridle, and we tried the paces of a
few of the ponies. In that way we put in an hour or two that might
have proved irksome, for everything was in such a state of confusion
and unreadiness, and the space in which the men were working was
so confined, that _we_ could render no effective help. Instead of
starting at eleven, it was half-past three before we got away--four and
a half hours late!
[Illustration: THE SPIT AT ODDEYRI.]
We made a slight stir as we clattered along the main street of the
town, for it was the largest expedition of the kind that had ever set
out from Akureyri, and the progress of our thirty-eight ponies was
watched with some interest by those of the townspeople who were on the
street. Our way lay beside the fjord, and we proceeded for several
miles in a northerly direction. Our _general_ direction across the
island was, as a rule, southerly and westerly, but it was necessary
to turn the end of a mountain chain before we could shape a more
direct course. On we went, past Oddeyri, the scene of the previous
day's festivities, until we reached the Glerá, where we had our first
experience of fording an Icelandic river. It was not very deep, and it
was but a foretaste of a series of more difficult fordings, not a few
of which were serious undertakings, and not to be attempted without
proper consideration. To this river, the Glerá, the formation of the
spit at Oddeyri is due. The detritus brought down by its waters and
deposited in the fjord has been gradually banked up by the tides and
storms coming up Eyjafjord. Along the shores of the fjord we passed
over extensive ancient moraines; then by a detour we worked round the
edge of the moraines, which form the end of the mountain range, and
entered Horgadalr (the valley of the Horgá). From a spot where we had
lunch, or whatever meal it might be called--it was our first since
breakfast--we overlooked the valley of the Horgá. On the far side
there was a green, fertile-looking spot, and large buildings, which
we ascertained to be the Akureyri agricultural grounds and college,
presided over by Professor Jón Hjaltalin. To the right the river ran
into the fjord through the valley, once, no doubt, an indentation of
Eyjafjord. At the mouth of the river a small delta is in course of
formation, which should develop into a spit similar to that at Oddeyri.
[Illustration: THE OXNADALSÁ CUTTING THROUGH A HARD DYKE.]
Proceeding up the valley of the Horgá, many interesting-looking peaks
attracted our attention. The valley and its branches having been
eroded out of basalt, the mountains and valleys are characteristic
formations--pyramidal peaks, steep escarpments, deeply-cut gorges, with
roaring torrents rushing down in a series of waterfalls and broken
cascades; there are vast quantities of scree on the mountain-sides
covering the terraces of the lava flows, and accumulations of similar
material at the foot of the mountains, forming a talus. Moraine heaps
are also numerous. Higher up the valley, just above the confluence of
the Horgá and the Oxnadalsá, there is a very striking scene, where the
last-named river has carved its way through a very hard dyke, the sides
of which extend into the river, and stand there like an immense wall
with a gap through it. While proceeding up Oxnadalr (the valley of the
Oxná = oxen), which is very picturesque, we saw some fine cloud-effects
as the moist air condensed and drifted just below the mountain tops.
The river Oxnadalsá takes its name from the valley, Oxnadal. This is
one of the few exceptions from the general rule, which is for the
valley to take its name from the river--_dal_ = valley; so, instead
of Oxnadalsá, the rule would make it Oxná. Along this valley all the
depressions in the hillsides are filled with quantities of peat. Peat,
peat bogs, and swamps are very common throughout Iceland, and in most
of the depressions in the hillsides and along the river valleys a peaty
growth is to be found.
For several hours in the course of the day we were accompanied by a man
travelling the same way and driving a pony laden with pieces of rather
ancient shark. When travelling in company, the ponies have a way of
crowding together, and unless very careful, one becomes painfully aware
of the fact when box or bundle brushes in no gentle way against one's
legs. Now the strange pony with the ancient shark at its sides was of
a very friendly disposition, and evinced a desire to fraternise with
our ponies, choosing the riding ponies for his special attentions, the
result being that we had some difficulty in avoiding contact with the
evil-smelling stuff. With this exception not many incidents worthy of
special mention occurred on this our first day in the saddle; there
were several breakdowns, however. The saddlery was not in the best
possible condition; it was mostly old and weather-worn, and a great
deal of it was very rotten. This became more apparent the farther
we went: breakages were numerous, straps snapped, and pack-saddles,
bundles, and boxes broke away and were deposited by the wayside;
while the ponies, glad to have got rid of their loads, careered gaily
on. There was much bustle and confusion, rushing of guides (the men,
whether acting as guides or not, are all called guides) after the
ponies. "Helvit!" they would shout, as another strap broke and a bundle
trailed on the ground, bumping against lumps of lava, by the pony's
side; then they would urge their steeds into a fast run or a canter,
whistling a soft, long-drawn-out note to induce the pony in front to
stop. To urge on the pony they utter a shout that sounds like a cross
between "haw" and "hoch." "Hoch! hoch!" they shout, and sometimes bring
their whips down with a swish upon the haunches of the nearest pony.
When they wish a pony to stop or to slacken speed they whistle gently.
We soon found that it was useless to click or to shout "Get up!" or
"Wo!" to a pony. He did not understand it, so we had to make use of the
sounds that they could recognise.
The first day's journey was not a very long one, seven hours only in
the saddle, and we reached our first camping-ground at about half-past
ten. Thverá was the name of the farm-house beside which we camped.
The buildings were of very primitive construction; they were built in
the usual Icelandic style: turf walls and roof; wooden floors to the
best rooms, and earth or lava blocks to the others; glass windows.
The kitchen in most of the humbler class of farm-houses is a picture,
and this one was typical; it was lighted only from the roof, and the
openings served also to ventilate the room and to act as smoke shafts.
A peat fire was burning in the corner of the room, and the air was
filled with the smoke that rose from it and circulated round the room
before escaping through the openings in the roof. It had an earth
floor, and at the side of the room there was a well about twenty feet
deep, that supplied beautifully clear water for culinary purposes. A
large cauldron stood over the fire, containing some savoury mess in
course of preparation for the family's next meal.
We had four tents, two large ones and two smaller; but on this occasion
we only made use of one of them, for four of our number slept at the
farm-house. For the rest of the journey across Iceland, however, all
four were in use. The two large ones were square "Bell" tents: one was
used for meals, and in it the conductor and his four guides slept at
night; in the other, Hill, Thomas, and I camped. Miss Hastie used one
of the smaller tents; while the "nautical adviser" and the "handy man"
occupied the other.
We did not make a start the next day till half-past one; it was
several hours after that agreed upon, but we very soon learned that
unpunctuality, delays in starting, and consequent waste of time would
mark the journey; this was chiefly due to the rotten state of the gear,
for several hours were spent every morning in patching up and tinkering
at the packs, boxes, and saddles that had come to grief during the
previous day--each day had its record of breakages and damage, and
each morning its hours devoted to making repairs. All this was very
annoying, and it made another guide almost a necessity to relieve one
of the English-speaking guides, so that he might go on with us while
the others were occupied with the repairs. This would have caused
things to work better, but unfortunately no other guide was available.
We were already on the edge of the fringe of population inhabiting
the regions near the seacoast, and we were fast approaching the
uninhabited interior; there were no spare hands on the farms that we
passed, so we were obliged to go on short-handed--short-handed _only_
because of the continual breakages. The guides that we had could not
have been improved upon: they were all first-class men, each was up to
his work, and worked with a will; they were all Icelanders possessing
small farms of their own, and two of them, Sigurthur and Hannes, spoke
excellent English; Thorlakur was a beginner at it, but we generally
managed to understand one another; the fourth man, Josef, was the only
one who had no knowledge of our language. We were on excellent terms
with all the guides, so things worked smoothly between us.
[Illustration: MORAINE ACCUMULATIONS AND CLOUD-EFFECTS AT THVERÁ.]
On leaving Thverá our way, as we ascended some three or four hundred
feet to the head of the valley, lay at first over a vast accumulation
of moraine matter, piled high up on all sides. Our camping ground had
been at the foot of this accumulation, and opposite to it on the other
side of the valley there were also great heaps of similar stuff, while
on the highest part of the range there was a very fine pinnacle rock,
rising several hundred feet higher, and standing out sharp against the
clear sky.
I had a bad day of it, being quite out of luck. The conductor
accidentally backed his pony upon me, and my right foot was crushed
and bruised beneath one of its hoofs; but worse was to come. About an
hour after we had started, and when we were getting well up into the
moraine, I heard a shout. "Helvit! Helvit!" cried one of the guides.
On looking ahead I saw a pony running amuck through the rough broken
lava and great boulders; he had got rid of most of his load, but
something green was trailing at his heels. In horror I watched the
pony's wild career, for the "something green" I recognised as the cover
of my plane-table--one of the instruments that I had brought for the
purpose of mapping a portion of the interior. This plane-table had
been strapped on the top of some packs containing bedding, in order
that it might ride on something soft and in safety. I comprehended
what had happened. As usual something had given way, the packs and my
plane-table had got loose about the pony's heels, and all had been
kicked off _except_ the plane-table, which had been made fast by one
of its straps to a ring in the pack-saddle, and as the strap was sound
it had held on. Well, there was no mistaking its Willesden canvas
cover--there it was, trailing along at the pony's heels, being kicked
and banged against boulders great and small, just as they came in the
way. Bumpity-thump it went along the ground, and with a crash it struck
the boulders! The table was ruined, for it trailed a mere crumpled mass
without definite shape. There was an end to prospects of mapping. I
watched the pony's career for a moment, more in sorrow than in anger,
then I urged my own pony into a canter, and came up with the runaway
just as one of the guides caught him. The wreck of the plane-table was
soon detached from the pack-saddle; a hasty inspection proved that my
fears were confirmed: the table itself was represented by a couple of
strips, the rest of it was missing; the tripod stand and the alidade
ruler were also missing. The guides scoured the neighbourhood of the
pony's course, and after a while one of them turned up with one or two
strips of wood, pieces of the plane-table, and placed them beside the
others. I looked on listlessly until another guide brought in a long
green case. This did not seem to be much damaged, so I hastily examined
the contents (the tripod stand and the ruler), and found to my joy that
they were practically uninjured; a few bruises to the legs did not
matter much, for they did not affect the stability of the stand--both
alidade and stand could be used! I then turned to the wreck of the
table itself and examined the pieces; they were not complete, two or
three were missing, but I noticed that although all the screws had been
wrenched out, and the apparatus for fixing the board to the stand had
also been wrenched off, yet the breaks and splinters were all along the
grain of the wood. The guides went over the ground again, and brought
back one or two additional strips. I then roughly put the pieces
together, and found that except for a few splinters I had got them all,
and that _none_ was broken _across_ the grain; the two cross-bars for
the back, the last pieces found, were also unbroken. It looked as if it
might be roughly mended, _if_ only the necessary tools were available.
[Illustration: THE WRECKED PLANE-TABLE.]
The views in the valley of the Oxnadalsá were fine, and the river
scenery where the water had carved deep down through the lava and tuff
was very bold, the red and blue tints of a quantity of scoria on the
steep banks adding to the effect.
In the evening we crossed the water-parting, or divide, between the
Oxnadalsá and the Northrá rivers, and at night camped beside a farm
known as Fremrikot near the head of the valley of the Northrá river
(Northradal). It was a picturesque spot, and the Northrá is typical of
the smaller rivers of the country, the valley filled with alluvium and
the river meandering through it, though when in flood not much of the
alluvium can be seen.
[Illustration: THE NORTHRÁ.]
In the morning I amused myself by taking photographs. I caught the
women and children from the farm sitting with their backs against
an earth-built fence looking with interest at, and discussing, the
preparations then being made for a start; these preparations are shown
in the view looking down the valley of the Northrá where saddling up is
nearly completed.
We received a check this day, and made very little progress. We started
gaily enough and fairly early, as times went with us--that is, we
got away a quarter of an hour after mid-day--and pursued our way
along Northradal. There were several fine gorges with torrents coming
down from the mountains into the Northrá; one especially attracted
us, where a big snow-water torrent rushes between great buttresses
of rock standing on each side. There is a bridge across the gorge,
for the torrent is quite unfordable. After about two hours' riding
down the valley of the Northrá to its confluence with the Herradsvötn
we soon reached Silfrastathr, where, in a picturesque spot, there
are a farm-house and a small octagonal church. Here we lunched and
made a long halt while the guides went on to ascertain whether the
Herradsvötn, one of the big rivers of the journey, was fordable. It
was past five when they returned with a local guide and the news that
it could not then be forded, because the water from that day's melted
snow was coming down and the river too much swollen. On a warm day the
snow in the mountains melts rapidly, and a large increase in the volume
of the water results; so that there is much more coming down in the
afternoon than in the early morning before the sun's heat causes the
snow to melt.
[Illustration: SADDLING UP.]
Farther on, when describing one of the quicksand rivers that we
crossed, I refer to the dangerous nature of their passage; but I find
it necessary to make special mention of the subject here, for while
revising these notes, bad news reached me concerning the Herradsvötn.
In July last year an accident happened at this river which resulted in
the death of our "conductor" of the previous year. We did not regard
the Herradsvötn as a quicksand river, but it seems to be one, for the
account of the accident states that our conductor's horse got into
a quicksand and threw his rider, who was carried down the river so
quickly by the swift current that no assistance could be rendered, and
he was drowned, his body not being recovered until two days afterwards.
Poor fellow, his first crossing with us was accomplished safely, and I
little thought that I should have to record his death as the result of
the second attempt. I happened to take two photographs of this river,
one having Maelifellshnukr in the background, and showing the many
streams into which the river is split up, the other showing the members
of our party about to cross the first stream. Fourteen of the ponies
can be seen in the latter, but the great majority of the pack-ponies
were ahead, out of the picture--it was impossible to get a string of
thirty-eight ponies into one quarter-plate view; the conductor leads
our party, and is the first following the tail of the pack-train, he
with right hand behind back. The danger in these quicksand rivers is
due to the fact that the sands are continually shifting; in the summer
each day has its flood of snow water which scours the bed of the river,
removing the sand from one place and depositing it in another, so that
one definite course cannot always be followed when crossing; what is a
good ford one day is impassable the next. With a river split up into
about twenty streams the difficulties of fording can be imagined, but
not appreciated until experienced, and the dread with which all the
guides regard the rivers where quicksands are known to exist cannot be
wondered at.
[Illustration: CROSSING THE HERRADSVÖTN.]
As the river was not fordable, there was nothing for us to do but
await the falling of the water, and then attempt the passage. The delay
enabled me to try my hand at repairing the plane-table. The "handy
man" was useful on this occasion, as on many others, for he produced
from his capacious pockets a wonderful knife. Now this knife had a
screw-driver blade that enabled me to countersink a number of holes
in the cross pieces, thus permitting the short screws to "bite" in
sound places in the broken pieces of the table. In a couple of hours
we emerged triumphantly from a room in the farm-house that we had
"commandeered" as a workshop, with the patched-up wreck bearing some
semblance to a plane-table; it was certainly not in any way perfect,
but it looked as if it might with care be used.
In the afternoon I was about to take a photograph of the farm-house;
there were several girls standing in front of it, who, when they saw
me point my camera, at once took to their heels and ran away (much to
my surprise), laughing merrily as they disappeared through an open
doorway. Thereafter when they saw me camera in hand they always bolted
for the house; this made me determine to have a photograph of them; so
I lay in wait, and when next they were running away, I took a snap as
they were making straight for the doorway; the photograph, however, was
a failure.
Maelifellshnukr, a prominent feature in the landscape here, is a
mountain between three and four thousand feet high; it is prominent not
only from Silfrastathr, but it can be seen from many places within a
radius of sixty or seventy miles, and I afterwards saw it from several
widely separated spots.
The pronunciation of some of the Icelandic words is rather puzzling to
a new-comer; for instance, the first part of the name of this mountain
is pronounced as if spelt may-lee-fettle--_tl_ instead of double _l_.
The churches in Iceland are often put to strange uses (strange to
foreigners, that is); many are the property of the farmers on whose
land and beside whose houses they are built. A clergyman often has
three or four of these farmers' churches in his district, and he holds
occasional services in them. It is a custom, when the farm-house has
not proper guest-chambers, for travellers to sleep in the church, and
_we_ did so in that at Silfrastathr, Miss Hastie using her own tent as
usual. Our beds were arranged some on the floor and others suspended
between the seats. The following photograph of the interior of the
church taken at midnight shows some of our party peacefully slumbering
in their beds.
Next day we made an early start, for we got away soon after ten
o'clock, in order to ford the river before the melting snow caused
the waters to rise. There was a considerable difference in the level,
for I found on going down for my tub that a small branch in which I
had the previous afternoon tested the temperature of the water was
non-existent. This temperature-testing had caused some fun, for in
using my sling thermometer for the purpose, I tied it to the end of my
riding-whip, and thus held it suspended in the stream. Hill, catching
me in the act, made a sketch which he entitled: "Our lunatic fishing
with his thermometer as bait," and handed it round at our evening meal.
The report of the local guide as to the state of the river was a
favourable one, so we proceeded down to the Herradsvötn, and prepared
against probable wettings. Each had his own fancy for keeping out the
water. Miss Hastie wore india-rubber top-boots--I have omitted to
say that she rode astride, by far the best way for the rough work in
Iceland; the "nautical adviser" used waterproof leggings, the "handy
man" top-boots, Hill sheep-skin top-boots of native manufacture,
Thomas did not seem to care whether he got wet or not, while I put on
india-rubber shoes and chanced the rest. There were some interesting
and picturesque costumes in the group.
[Illustration: SILFRASTATHR CHURCH. ASLEEP AT MIDNIGHT.]
When all was ready, the local guide led off with some of the pack,
three of our own guides following with other sections of it; the
conductor went next, and the members of our party followed; I stayed
behind for a few minutes to photograph the crossing of the first branch
of the river, and then brought up the rear with the other guide.
The river runs over a very broad bed and is divided into something
like twenty streams, so a considerable time--about half an hour--was
occupied before the last stream had been forded. The water was rather
deep in some of the branches, and came up just to our knees. We made a
very satisfactory crossing, and reached the other side without incident
worth recording; a few hours later it would have been impassable again.
The river was no doubt "up" when our conductor lost his life.
While crossing the river there was a very distinct mirage effect when
looking down it towards the sea. Some of us took shots with cameras,
but nothing resulted; it was too distant.
Two days before, and again during this day, there were breakages
innumerable; the state of the pack-saddles, packs, straps, girths,
bridles, etc., was simply disgraceful--there is no other word for it!
Several falls had been due to the breaking of reins or girths, and
by the end of the day there was scarcely a member of the party who
had not come to grief in this way. Thomas, who was riding a spirited
beast, came two croppers through his reins breaking: the second time
his pony rolled upon him and he strained a muscle in his side; this was
unfortunate, for he felt the effects more or less to the end of the
journey. From the river valley, where Thomas had one fall, we ascended
to the top of Tungusveit, a long narrow ridge that extends for about
twenty miles, dividing the Herradsvötn and Svartá rivers. These long
ridges, with rivers flowing in parallel lines on each side, form one
of the geographical features of Iceland. Many of them are to be seen in
different parts of the country. From this ridge, on which there were
many "erratic" boulders, a fine view of Maelifellshnukr was obtained;
at the foot of the peak beyond the Svartá there is a series of morainic
hills.
At Maeælifell below the mountain there is a parsonage and farm-house,
where we halted for a light luncheon. At these farm-houses milk and
coffee can always be obtained, and sometimes excellent homemade
biscuits and cake also, and these delicacies were forthcoming here. The
Icelanders are noted for the good quality of their coffee, which may be
regarded as the national drink.
Up to this point we had followed the more or less beaten tracks pursued
by farmers and others in travelling from farm to farm; but we were
now on the extreme edge of the fringe of population, and were about
to plunge into the uninhabited interior. We decided to attack a route
that had been used years before by the settlers and farmers--when
the present good and frequent service of coasting steamers was not
running--to convey fish, other provisions, etc., from and to the coast
and across the island, and we found it a very interesting one.
We proceeded up the valley of the Svartá for a few miles over
accumulations of river deposits, till we reached Gilhagi farm-house,
where we halted for our mid-day meal. This was the last house met with
on the north side of the desert and ice-bound interior, and we did
not again see signs of habitation till arriving within two days of
Reykjavik.
Mention must be made of an amusing misunderstanding that had occurred
on the score of matches. It seems that the "nautical adviser" before
leaving Akureyri had inquired of the conductor whether he had plenty of
matches, and the latter had replied that he had plenty--and so he had
for the ordinary requirements of the camp, but not for the general use
of smokers; the conductor in his reply had thought only of the camp,
while the other had asked from a smoker's point of view, hence there
was an approach to a famine as regards the smokers, and it was pathetic
sometimes to see the "nautical adviser" and the "handy man" carefully
husbanding a match, in the hope that the supply would hold out to
Reykjavik.
At Gilhagi the women were washing wool; there was a fire in the open
beside a small stream of water, and on the fire a cauldron, in which
the wool was boiled; it was afterwards washed in the running water.