STYKKISHOLM AND BERSERKJAHRAUN
Stykkisholm is a very picturesque little town built in a valley and on
the slopes of the enclosing hills. It is situated at the extreme end of
the peninsula, overlooking Breithifjord and its branch, Hvammsfjord.
In front of the town, the island of Sugandisey acts as a sort of
breakwater, and affords shelter from storms to small craft. This
island is composed of columnar basalt; it is a striking feature in the
surrounding scenery, where hundreds of smaller islands dot the fjord.
We were put up at the house of the Rural Dean of the district, where
we remained for two or three days exploring the neighbourhood until
the steamer from Reykjavik called on its way to the fjords of the
north-west, north and east coasts. Here at Stykkisholm Miss Hastie and
I changed about as regards sleeping apartments, for she occupied the
guest-chamber in our host's house, while I camped in the tent that she
had abandoned. The tent was pitched in the grounds of an adjoining
house, the owners of which did not seem to mind at all, for they
readily granted permission for it to be put up there.
The next day, Sunday, it rained as usual, so we did not go very far
from the house.
[Illustration: THE COLUMNAR BASALT ISLAND, SUGANDISEY.]
On Monday, accompanied by our host, we set out for a mountain to the
south of Helgafell, where it was rumoured specimens of coal, lignite,
and gold were to be seen, but we had doubts as to what we should
find. On the way I had a difference of opinion with my pony. He had
lately developed a habit of suddenly jumping aside from all pools of
water that lay in his path. I had previously not checked the growing
habit, but after the previous day's rain the road was a series of
puddles, so I objected to being continually switched off to right or
left at the pony's sweet will, and therefore brought him up to all the
puddles. At first he would not go through unless brought up to them
from ten to twenty times; at last, however, he consented to do it in
fewer, and at the end of the day's journey he was completely broken
in. We took the road via Helgafell to Saurar, and thence traversed a
swamp, some moraine matter, and alluvium to the foot of the mountain
that was our destination, Drapuhlitharfjall--a name that Miss Hastie
vainly endeavoured for days to get the correct pronunciation of, and
I am not at all sure that I was quite successful myself. The mountain
is a mass of liparite, which is there found in all its varieties. I
had strongly suspected the so-called coal to be obsidian, the black
form of liparite; and on ascending the mountain to the spot where it
was supposed to exist, obsidian it was found to be. Having camera
in hand, I had an awkward scramble up a very steep scree slope, and
I often started small avalanches, which scattered in all directions
on their descent. Our host ascended by a longer and easier route: he
was up before me, and crossed the scree at a higher altitude, with
the result that he started an avalanche of big jagged boulders that
passed perilously near to where I was lying flat upon the slope and
endeavouring to wriggle upward--a yell from me caused him to wait until
I had reached his level before proceeding farther.
We lunched on the mountain-side, and then went down to the supposed
gold mine at its foot. On the way up we had called at a farm-house on
the lower slopes of the mountain, and had there enlisted the services
of the farmer to show us the shortest way up to the coal (!) and to
dig out some gold. He had come provided with pick and shovel, so on
reaching the mine he set to work and soon handed up a quantity of earth
having a number of bright, shining, yellow metallic crystals in it,
and these he pointed out as the gold. I smiled, having seen much of the
same sort of thing in other parts of the world. It was iron pyrites!
The mistake was not to be wondered at, for the metal had deceived many
people before. I told the man that he would not get much gold out of
it; but he did not seem to believe me, for he stated that a quantity
of it had been sent to America, had there been tested, and had been
reported on to the effect that of gold there was "a trace."
The search for gold having proved abortive, we returned to the
farm-house. It was then raining hard. I wanted, before leaving the
neighbourhood, to pay a visit to a lava-field some two hours distant,
so I let Hannes decide whether we should go on through the rain, or
make a separate journey there on the morrow. Hannes elected to go
on then, because he wanted, if possible, to give _all_ the ponies a
rest the next day, for he was to start with them on the way back to
Reykjavik the following day. We set out in torrents of rain--Hannes and
I, the rest of the party remaining under shelter at the farm-house,
where they were regaled with coffee, etc. I fancy they thought me a
lunatic, but I was bent on seeing the lava-field of the Berserkers,
where two members of that race are reported to lie buried. We started
with the rain beating in our faces; the going was good, for the ground
was alluvial, so Hannes led off at a hand gallop, in the evident
intention of "getting through with it" as quickly as possible. I
followed close at his pony's heels, and away we went through a perfect
deluge of rain. It beat violently in our faces, but we did not care,
enveloped in oilskins as we were; and save for my face, which was
thoroughly well washed, and for a few drops of water that trickled down
my neck, I rode through it all with dry skin. The rate at which we
travelled brought us to the edge of the lava-field in far less than the
two hours stated as necessary for the journey; in fact, we got there
in about an hour and a quarter. In the last quarter of an hour the
weather, as so often happens in Iceland, underwent a very rapid change:
the rain ceased, the clouds condensed over the hills and finally rolled
away, and by the time that we were ready to return, it was a fine clear
evening.
The story connected with the Berserkers' lava-field (Berserkjahraun)
is related in the Eyrbyggja Saga; it is as follows. There were two
Berserkers, or Berserks, brothers named Halli and Leiknir, one of whom
was anxious to obtain in marriage Ásdisa, the daughter of one Styr; but
Styr had no fancy for the marriage, for he regarded him as unworthy
of his daughter; yet he had not the courage to decline the match,
because the Berserks were men of valour, and he did not think it safe
to decline; so he was diplomatic and sought a way to circumvent them.
He consulted one Snorri, a priest, with the result that Styr imposed
a task upon the Berserks, that they should make a road through the
lava-field within a time that he considered an impossible one, agreeing
that on the successful completion of the work his daughter should be
given in marriage to one of them, though which was the suitor is not
mentioned in the Saga. The Berserks willingly undertook the task, for
they were strong men and had confidence in their own powers, and they
set about the work in earnest. It soon became apparent to Styr that he
had misjudged the capabilities of the two Berserks, and that they would
complete their undertaking within the allotted time; so he thought
out a scheme and built a bath-house. When the Berserks had finished
making the road--and a very good road it is, as the photograph shows,
certainly the best pathway that I met with in lava--Styr invited them
to take a warm bath, remarking that they would find it very refreshing
after their arduous labours. He had prepared for their reception,
and the furnaces had been heated far beyond what was necessary. The
Berserks accepted the invitation and entered the bath unsuspectingly.
They thought it hot, but on finding the water becoming much hotter,
they concluded that something must be wrong, and their suspicion
was confirmed when they discovered that the door had been barricaded
against them. They were strong men, as has been stated, and their
strength was equal to the occasion, for they broke down the door. Now
this contingency had been provided for: a fresh ox-hide had been spread
outside the door, so when the Berserks emerged with a rush, they fell
when crossing the slippery hide; one was slain as he lay sprawling on
the ground, while the other was thrust back into the bath and soon
became boiled Berserk. Styr afterwards went around bragging of his
prowess! The pith of the story lies in the sequel, for Snorri, the
priest, married Ásdisa!
[Illustration: THE BERSERKERS' ROAD THROUGH THE LAVA-FIELD.]
In the lava, just beside the road through it, there is a mound where
the Berserks are said to lie buried; that may be so or not, but the
mound was opened some time ago and human remains there found. The mound
is shown in the picture of the lava-field--a small square patch just
in front of the two ponies that we left standing on the pathway to
indicate the spot. The Berserkjahraun farm-house lies in the middle of
some hummocky land adjoining the lava-field; it is built on the site of
Styr's house and named after the Berserks.
The weather was most unfavourable next day, for it rained during the
greater part of it, the result being that we were confined to the
house until late in the evening. However, we made an inspection of the
library, where there is the nucleus of a good collection of books; it
is questionable, though, whether the books will last long, for the
dampness of the atmosphere is already playing havoc with them: many
that I took down from their shelves were in a badly mildewed state, the
leaves and binding being already in an advanced stage of decomposition.
The following day we were to have embarked on board the _Vesta_, and to
have set sail from Stykkisholm. The vessel hove in sight at about ten
in the morning, but a very strong wind was blowing--straight in shore,
too; so she remained all day under shelter of an island a few miles out
to sea, and did not come to Stykkisholm till about eleven at night. The
weather was fine overhead during the day, so we were able to get out
a bit. I took a number of photographs, including several of the town;
one showing the sea-front was taken from a small headland a few yards
away from my tent. Our hostess kindly sat for her photograph attired
in the national costume, which is donned on high days, holidays, and
festivals. The headdress (_faldr_ is the Icelandic name) is peculiar;
it is in shape somewhat like the French cap of Liberty, with a horn
curling over to the front, and having a short veil which is thrown
back from the head; a gold or silver band is, as a rule, worn round
the forehead just below the cap. When wearing the ordinary head-gear a
lady's dress is not considered complete unless an apron is worn, and
it is not at all the thing to appear in public without one. With the
_faldr_ an apron is _not_ necessary.
Jón and Hannes set out early in the afternoon on the return journey to
Reykjavik. I attempted to photograph them just as they were leaving the
grounds at the back of our host's house, and again when the pack-train
was ascending the main street, with Jón and Hannes bringing up the
rear--the last I saw of them; but the shutter of the camera jammed, so
the pictures were failures.
In the afternoon Miss Hastie went for a ride, using an Icelandic lady's
saddle, but she did not go far, for she did not take kindly to it.
We took leave of our kind host and hostess after coffee next morning,
and went on board the _Vesta_ for breakfast. As we proceeded to the
wharf, we passed some women who were carrying goods on bearers and
loading up small cargo-boats for shipment by the _Vesta_.