FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF ICELAND.
It would be difficult to conceive any thing more impressive than this
first view of the land of snow and fire. A low stretch of black boggy
coast to the right; dark cliffs of lava in front; far in the
background, range after range of bleak, snow-capped mountains, the
fiery Jokuls dimly visible through drifting masses of fog; to the left
a broken wall of red, black, and blue rocks, weird and surf-beaten,
stretching as far as the eye could reach--this was Iceland! All along
the grim rifted coast the dread marks of fire, and flood, and
desolation were visible. Detached masses of lava, gnarled and scraggy
like huge clinkers, seemed tossed out into the sea; towers,
buttresses, and battlements, shaped by the very elements of
destruction, reared their stern crests against the waves; glaciers lay
glittering upon the blackened slopes behind; and foaming torrents of
snow-water burst through the rifted crags in front, and mingled their
rage with the wild rage of the surf--all was battle, and ruin, and
desolation.
As we approached the point called Portland, a colossal bridge opened
into view, so symmetrical in its outline that it was difficult to
believe it was not of artificial construction. The arch is about fifty
feet high by thirty in width, and affords shelter to innumerable
flocks of birds, whose nests are built in the crevices underneath.
Solan-geese, eider-ducks, and sea-gulls cover the dizzy heights
overhead, and whales have been known to pass through the passage
below. Great numbers of blackfish and porpoises abound in this
vicinity. From time to time, as we swept along on our way, we could
discern a lonesome hut high up on the shore, with a few sheep and
cattle on the slopes of the adjacent hills, but for the most part
the coast was barren and desolate.
[Illustration: NATURAL BRIDGE.]
Early on the following morning the sun-capped peaks of Mount Hecla
were visible. There has been no eruption from this mountain since
1845. The principal crater lies 5210 feet above the level of the sea,
and is distant fifteen miles from the shore.
Toward noon we made the Westmann Isles, a small rocky group some ten
miles distant from the main island. A fishing and trading
establishment, owned by a company of Danes, is located on one of these
islands. The _Arcturus_ touches twice a year to deliver and receive a
mail. On the occasion of our visit, a boat came out with a
hardy-looking crew of Danes to receive the mail-bag. It was doubtless
a matter of great rejoicing to them to obtain news from home. I had
barely time to make a rough outline of the islands as we lay off the
settlement.
The chief interest attached to the Westmann group is, that it is
supposed to have been visited by Columbus in 1477, fifteen years prior
to his voyage of discovery to the shores of America. It is now
generally conceded that the Icelanders were the original discoverers
of the American continent. Recent antiquarian researches tend to
establish the fact that they had advanced as far to the southward as
Massachusetts in the tenth century. They held colonies on the coasts
of Greenland and Labrador, and must have had frequent intercourse with
the Indians farther south. Columbus in all probability obtained some
valuable data from these hardy adventurers. The date of his visit to
Iceland is well authenticated by Beamish, Rafn, and other eminent
writers on the early discoveries of the Northmen.
[Illustration: COAST OF ICELAND.]
Nothing could surpass the desolate grandeur of the coast as we
approached the point of Reykjaness. It was of an almost infernal
blackness. The whole country seemed uptorn, rifted, shattered, and
scattered about in a vast chaos of ruin. Huge cliffs of lava split
down to their bases toppled over the surf. Rocks of every
conceivable shape, scorched and blasted with fire, wrested from the
main and hurled into the sea, battled with the waves, their black
scraggy points piercing the mist like giant hands upthrown to smite or
sink in a fierce death-struggle. The wild havoc wrought in the
conflict of elements was appalling. Birds screamed over the fearful
wreck of matter. The surf from the inrolling waves broke against the
charred and shattered desert of ruin with a terrific roar. Columns of
spray shot up over the blackened fragments of lava, while in every
opening the lashed waters, discolored by the collision, seethed and
surged as in a huge caldron. Verily there is One whose "fury is poured
out like fire; the rocks are thrown down by him; the mountains quake,
and the hills melt, and the earth is burned at his presence."
[Illustration: THE MEAL-SACK.]
Passing a singular rock standing alone some twenty miles off the land,
called the _Meal-sack_, we soon changed our course and bore up for the
harbor of Reykjavik. By the time we reached the anchorage our voyage
from Thorshavn had occupied exactly three days and six hours.
Trusting that the reader will pardon me for the frequent delays to
which I have subjected him since we joined our fortunes at Copenhagen,
I shall now proceed to the important labors of the enterprise with
this solemn understanding--that the journey before us is pretty rough,
and the prospect is strong that, in our random dash at the wonders of
Iceland, we will encounter some perilous adventures by flood and
field; but if I don't carry him safely and satisfactorily through them
all, he must console himself by the reflection that many a good man
has been sacrificed in the pursuit of knowledge, and that he will
suffer in excellent company.