Ice caves and the Breiðamerkurjökull glacier - Jan. 7, 2017

Rachel had found a postcard in the gift shop at the Saga Center a few days ago with a gorgeous waterfall surrounded by basalt columns on it. Our day dawned (well, we got out of bed and headed to breakfast at least) drizzly and unfortunate, but Svartifoss, the waterfall she saw, was going to be our first stop anyway. 

We saw Tommy and Kamila in the breakfast restaurant just as we were leaving. They were off to their own adventures that day, then we'd meet them in a hotel by the airport that evening. 

It dripped, then poured, then cleared up, but was back to dripping when we found the parking lot for Svartifoss. I saw it between trees, but the sign at the trail said 1.4km - nearly a mile. We decided to stay in the car a bit longer and find the next thing. 

I just happened to be cruising through the map, looking at our route, when I found an indicator for Fjallsárlón Glacial Lagoon. We joked that we'd ease Rachel in to glaciers by showing her an "off brand" one first before going to the immensely popular Glacier Lagoon down the way. 

It ultimately was the same glacier, different forks that we saw when we stopped. It was a calm, clear lake in front of the Breiðamerkurjökull glacier, with giant icebergs stuck in the middle and ice sheets surrounding the edges. 

The tour van left after we got there, as well as another car or two, so after ten minutes, we were nearly by ourselves. I was trying to capture the stunning blues of the glacier in the reflection of the still water; Mark was trying to see how far he could throw ice pieces. 

The icebergs were different colors and textures - black from the ash that was trapped inside them, or blue, or clear. We hopped in the car again, passing over a one-lane bridge that separates the lagoon from the ocean, and got to the crazy, crowded parking lot of Jökulsárlón, the glacier/iceberg bay right at the head of the same glacier. 

The wind had picked up like crazy, so we fought our way down to the beach. Rachel and I took a picture into the wind, which just resulted in us looking tearful from the bite of it.

The view itself was crazy though! A whole body of water, with icebergs and a lovely tinge of that stunning blue coming from between the mountains. The school-bus-sized pieces of ice, with their 4x amounts of ice under the surface, weren't moving, though the lake was lapping at the rocky shore. 

We decided to head to the hotel meeting point to eat, since the crowds and the wind made the parking lot a place we didn't want to dally. The next town down was where Þórbergur Þórðarson's literary center was - which was also the meeting spot for our ice cave adventures!

We pulled up, and a van three times as tall as Alisa was sitting there on its giant tires. Tommy had been salivating over them all week, but he wanted to drive one. Alisa, Mark, and I just got to ride in it. 

But first, we ate all the miscellaneous food cold out of the back of the car. First was the lentil soup and the red bean soup, which I had happily packed disposable spoons for. Next was the cheese, the meat, the carrots and celery, and the trail mix. It was an assorted meal, but we were all sated in the end. Driving around with it hovering around freezing meant that we never had to worry about our food spoiling!

The crew of us piled into the jacked (is that the right word for if tires are super high?) bus. Our guide told us we'd be on the highway for ten minutes, then on the glacial gravel for another thirty. He told us about the giant glacier (covers 8% of Iceland!) and how it had retreated miles in the last 100 years. What we were driving over, in the age of the sagas, was covered in ice. The winters were much harder, with so little land between the ice and the water. 

The glacier lagoon we had visited had only opened up in the last few decades. It was at a similar depth to the ocean, so warmer salt water came in at high tide - exacerbating the retreat of the glacier - and cold freshwater went to the ocean during low tide. 

The first half of our drive on the gravel was typical 4x4 stuff. Then the hills got bigger, the ruts got deeper, and still we charged on, with massive gravity shifts as he drove us over all of it. Those massive tires were coming in handy!

We pulled up to the edge of the clearest, yet bluest, glacier I've ever seen. The surface was swept clean, so it was a complete sheet of ice. 

We got our helmets off the railings around the edge of the van, then "Stone" showed us how to put on the rubbery crampons. They slid around our boots, then we were off. Don't lallygag around the entrance to the cave, and watch out for the water in the back. Otherwise, we were free to explore the 100m wonder. 

Just being on the glacier was breath-taking, crunching along on the super clear ice with its teeny cracks. It was a giant hill, with a couple big divots, and water coating the surface. 

The crampons certainly worked, because none of us slipped on the 50-yard crossing to the cave. It dropped down into a muddy patch before the mouth opened. At about twenty feet wide and roughly that high at the peak, the fact we were one of many, many groups wasn't claustrophobic. The cave easily fit the fifty or more people strolling around, trying to get just the right blue in their pictures. 

Dodging the big puddles (and the big, drippy ceilings where they had started), we walked deeper into the cave. It was super blue about halfway in, where the ice above us was 30 meters thick! There was a strip of ash trapped in the ice from either 2010 or 2014, according to a guide. Where it was just water, I could see air bubbles - formed when the snow was compressed to ice. Inverse stalactite formations were in the ceiling, where water had drilled a cone upwards when it found an air pocket. Essentially, something fascinating was at all the levels of vision, macro to micro. 

We poked and photographed the cave (and ourselves) for probably half an hour or more. The group we were with and the guide wandered out of the cave, so we followed. 

Back on the giant ice sheet, kids were using it as a giant slide. I saved that knowledge while Mark - rugby boy forever - took his shirt off to pose with his rugby scarf on the glacier. We all egged him on until he was laying on the glacier! I followed suit - not taking my shirt off but seeing just how slippery it was and sitting down to slide. 

Remember that water layer I mentioned? Yeah, my sits layers were soaked through when I made it down twenty feet. But I sledded on a glacier!

We had one stop at a vista to break up the bumpy road back. The driver had great taste in music, putting on first "Of Monsters and Men" and then "Kaleo" - both great bands, and both Icelandic! I sleepily watched the hills of gravel go by on the thirty minute drive back. 

On the tour, the guide had mentioned a beer made from the water of the glacier, flavored with arctic thyme gathered from the mountains nearby. Ölvisholt Vatnajökull's "Frozen In Time" was fine, as beers go. (I'm a wine person, through and through, and I haven't yet heard of Icelandic grapes.) The concept was great, and we brought back the bottles for keepsakes. 

We had nearly five hours of driving ahead of us, so we started off. The sun was setting as we made it to our final view of the day - the "diamond beach" outside the glacier lagoon. 

It truly was gorgeous - all the shards of icebergs, in all the color flavors (blue, clear, opaque). Big ones were five feet wide, but Rachel and Mark both picked up some smaller ones to carry around for a bit (then ultimately crash into each other to see which broke). They were especially pretty as the orange light of sunset filtered through. 

About 90 minutes further down the road, we were getting cold and peckish, so, learning our lesson about restaurants being open, we stopped at another Icelandair hotel. Icelandair Hotel Klaustur had good service and fine food. The lamb was meh, burger (so typical, so much cheaper at $24 versus $45 for the lamb) was better. 

We kept rolling, hoping to make it to Hella before our gas station break, but an early snowstorm with sideways winds slowed us down (and the winding road over an overpass ate up our gas), so we stopped at Vik.

Both Alisa and Rachel had cash to burn, so all of us got Icelandic candy. A "hraun" (lava) bar was crispies covered in chocolate; a dolphin was chocolate-covered marshmallow, but a surprisingly subtle and yummy flavor of 'mallow. The licorice and chocolate treat that were everywhere... yeah, we all avoided those. Alisa likes licorice, yet none of those caught her eye this time. Maybe, Iceland is like the baby of Europe - no one else likes licorice, so they send it there and Icelanders learn to like it because it's all they get. 

I had been staring at the northern sky our entire drive. Looking at cloud patterns, we would get a break between Reykjavik and Keflavik, so, another three hours later, I had Mark pulled off to a road (gravel) by the highway. I took some long exposure pictures into the darkness, but nothing came up but stars. Our final night, and no lights. Next time, we'll go on an aurora tour - you can be lucky or smart to see those Northern lights, and we certainly weren't lucky. 

Kamila and Tommy were at the hotel, so we unpacked all our food and suitcases for the final night. We finished the wine we brought (and the boys continued to drink beer out of the honesty bar until that was depleted too) and reflected. Or just gushed about what we'd do if we came back in the summer. 

In the morning, we organized our souvenirs into our bags, kept some of the food, tossed what we couldn't bring, and headed to the rental car place. It took driving around the parking lot a few times to find the door, which, upsettingly, just said to call a number. I started logging into Skype on Mark's phone when a van pulled up. It was four hours before our flight, so the attendant finished up the those customers before checking us back in. And easy ride to the airport, then, we were done!

We chilled in the airport (free wifi, easy to entertain ourselves) until it was time to check our bags. The whole system was automated, down to weighing the bags and sending it along the belt. We all were under the 20 kilo limit (we never replaced the boxes of wine with anything else as heavy!) and tromped through security. 

Duty-free, lunch at the cafeteria (too expensive, but what else is new), and, with ten minutes to go until boarding, we headed to the gate. We didn't realize there was a passport check, but the giant line in front of our gate wasn't moving yet anyway. 

Mark, Alisa, Rachel, and I got the 4 seats across the middle in a bigger plane then when we came over. Napping, learning and playing euchre, then determining how to fill out our customs form (is where we were a ranch? were we handling livestock when riding horses?). Our plane was thirty minutes late, but Rachel's train was 45 minutes, so all of us made it to our respective forms of transport and exited Maryland. 

Traveling with a group of Americans certainly makes a place feel less foreign - bad, because that uncomfort is one of the reasons I travel; good, because every night truly felt like vacation, even in the middle of nowhere in the dead of winter. Overall, I'm delighted with the trip, and will have some tips and tricks to post for everyone else going!

Southwestern Coast - Jan. 6, 2017

Besides the Settlement Center, I had found another highly rated museum - the Saga Center in Hvolsvöllur. Their website said to make an appointment during the winter, so I emailed back and forth and got us in at 10am on Friday. The hour drive (plus extra time for snow and using the single bathroom as we were leaving) meant we were up before the sun rose - which is really no different than any other day. Except for New Year's Day, we were always up before 10. 

There was a touch of snow, so we arrived right on time. A sword in a stone greeted us in the parking lot, then we tromped in to the foyer, where costumes were hanging on the back wall. Mark and Tommy got into their cloaks and helmets before we even started around the exhibit - they got into character. 

The first couple panels were on early settler life in Iceland, to give context to the saga that played out over the next twenty panels. Njal's saga has a sage, a feud, a vengeful wife, a vengeful son, and a final reconciliation, but not without a lot of bloodshed. Two great quotes: "the tally of dead men was three... things seemed to be getting a bit out of hand. The course of events of killings of the servants was as follows: Kolur killed Svartur, Atli killed Kolur, Brynjólfur rostí killed Atli, Þórður Leysingjason killed Brynjólfur rostí, Sigmurdur and Skjöldur killed Þórður Leysingjason, and, finally, the sons of Njáll killed Sigmurdur and Skjöldur."

The other great quote? "In spite of Gunnar's frequent killings, he always managed to settle things in court and pay compensation, mostly due to the intervention of Njáll of Bergþórshvoll who advised Gunnar not to kill more people of the same family." Yeah, spread it around, Gunnar!

We all dressed up in Viking garb while Kamila took a picture (her cold was starting to wear her down). The Saga Hall was still under construction, so the wooden bar area was closed. 

Past it, though, was a tapestry center, where volunteers could come in and help sew the story of Njal's saga. A final room with a bunch of old storefronts (all in Icelandic) finished off the museum, so we thanked our host profusely (there were a couple other people in the museum, so not positive if we had to make reservations or not) and continued down the road. We were going to be outside exploring the rest of the day!

The first waterfall was Gluggafoss, meaning window, because the water had carved far enough into the chasm that the upper falls could only be seen through "windows" of rock. We pulled up right as a car was leaving, so it was our own personal falls for the half hour we scampered around. The light dusting of snow and the sunrise made it sparkle. 

We had driven off the Ring Road - Highway 1 that circles Iceland - so we cut back via a gravel road. We bumped along a few miles of extremely flat now-farmland. A few farmhouses were sprinkled around the view, but it was so desolate feeling as well. 

Even from that far, we could make out what I guessed was our next stop, a tall, single stream waterfall cascading off the top of a table mountain. It was Seljalandsfoss! ("Foss" means waterfall, if you haven't figured it out.)

There was a pull off with signs talking about the national park we were entering, then a few hundred more yards to the parking lot. We could see the spray from the waterfall from the lot, so we added what rain layers we had. 

It wasn't enough. It was super cool that we could walk up close and then behind the waterfall, but our left sides were wet with the mist that was being kicked up. It was above freezing, barely, but the puddles and mud weren't solid behind the falls. The cave was dazzling, but the constant wet didn't lend itself to a good place to linger. 

Going up and over the opposite side, we encountered the slipperiest wooden steps leading down. None of us fell, though the butt-scooting by the kids behind us might have ultimately been a better strategy. 

We saw two more cascades down the hillside, with hoses leading from them to the farms on the plain. A final sign pointed 400m up the path. There lay the Gljúfrabúi waterfall. 

This fall was tucked behind a giant boulder hill, so big that a few fairy caves dotted it. Looking up from the outgoing stream, we could see the falls between the cliff and the boulder. 

There was a path up the boulder, so Mark and I began climbing until the muddy-safety trade-off (the "if I climb higher, I'll need to get dirtier to stay safe" conundrum) stopped us halfway (maybe 30 feet) up. We didn't see the falls from the top - at least, not this trip!

We walked back to the car, with an ice sheet covering the path and a footbridge to the parking lot. I definitely videoed everyone going down, but then I was the only one that fell!

Don't worry, that wasn't our last waterfall of the day - Skógafoss was right around the corner. 

We were at the edge of the radio signals (probably from Reykjavik), so we got our final doses of Justin Timberlake and our new favorite song "Fröken Reykjavik" (Miss Reykjavik) before circling the plateau that Seljalandsfoss was on to Skógafoss.  

This one was towering again, single stream, with a bed of rounded black rocks where the water collected back into a stream. Along the hillside was a lot of stairs. Mark, Rachel, and I didn't check the sign board until we got back, but 527 steps sounds right. 

About halfway up, we walked onto a ledge to see the falls from there (and to take a breather). We stopped our lingering when a bit of moisture started falling. I didn't want to risk it getting any slipperier. 

The metal steps were grippy and grated, so the final push up wasn't slick. The viewing platform was actually made of that same grating, so I could follow the view of the waterfall from the cliff edge down to below my feet - like, through the floor below my feet. 

We waved to Alisa, so many yards away, then made our way down. We needed to find "tinklefoss", as Rachel had dubbed it - the bathroom. There was a handy one in the souvenir shop nearby. 

I had a few more pins in my map, and the closest was the black sand beach at Sólheimasandur, where a US Navy plane crash landed. The fuselage is still on the beach, and it serves up some haunting photos. 

The first turnoff was a little too far down the road, but a handy sign told us to backtrack 2km. We found the parking lot just off the road at the crest of a hill and headed toward the ocean. It was about 3:30. 

At about 4:15, with the sun pretty much below the horizon, we arrived at the plane. I didn't know it was going to be a 4km walk! Everyone was a really, really good sport about it, despite blisters, sweating, and shivering. 

It was a small fuselage, so the dozen or two people around made it seem swarmed. Another 100m in the distance was the beach itself and the waves. 

We were climbing around, peeking our heads through holes and egging on someone who was trying to climb on top of it when Mark told me that Tommy and Kamila were headed toward the beach. 

Now, while we were waiting at the airport a few days ago, Tommy let Mark in on a little secret. And Mark slipped the secret to me. So we let them get a head start. 

We had finished exploring and ready to check out the beach ourselves. The light was getting pretty low, and the long walk back meant that this was the closest we were going to see of the Dyrhólaey Arch in the distance. I could see Tommy and Kamila's silhouettes further down the beach, and I paused right as he bent down and... picked something up from the beach. 

Rachel, Alisa, Mark, and I watched some tourists racing the waves. That'd be a pretty sad battle to lose, with that long walk between the beach and any sort of warmth. I found a patch of sand to write 2017 in, and Kamila and Tommy walked back over. 

"Um, guys, so, this just happened." Kamila stretched out her bedecked left hand. She said yes to Tommy's proposal!

Apparently he had bent down to pick up some sand to save, though Kamila couldn't figure out why until after he popped the question. We got their relationship story during the walk back to the car. The long walk back. The walk where I mentioned people should grab headlamps and none of us actually brought headlamps along. 

We made it. It was fully dark when we got back to the lot, and everyone was hunger and ready to celebrate. 

What seemed like good news was that the first restaurant we stopped at (which had great reviews and a good menu) was open! I put in our table request for six and was told it "shouldn't be too long", the next big table leaving would be ours. 

We sat in the foyer, with people entering and exiting from doors on either side. Rachel channeled her inner Santa Lad and became the "door slammer" - neither door closed itself, so she'd make sure they were closed when unwitting tourists didn't shut it behind them. 

We were amused for a bit. Then tired. Then frustrated. It was at about the hour mark when Rachel ran back upstairs and was told our table was finally ready. 

We were walking up the stairs to the dining room when the overhead lights turned off. I was convinced someone (Kamila, since her phone was plugged in near a switch) had accidentally turned them off - except that upstairs was the same thing. Only the lights under the serving station/bar were on. 

We were seated with water jugs when even those lights flickered off. The restaurant had lost power. 

I was still thinking that the kitchens could cook with gas (or thermal energy, right? Boil water via a hot spring?), but the chef wandered out front after ten minutes and didn't sound positive. We finally flagged down a waiter after another five minutes, and she said they weren't taking orders. 

Mark took control (thankfully - I was tired of being asked questions I didn't know the answer to, like when we would get a table or where other restaurants were), and he found another restaurant in Vik. We abandoned the table, hopped back into cars, and drove to a deserted shopfront. Then past another restaurant that was closed.

Berg, the restaurant in the Icelandair Hotel in Vik, was open and had seats ready for us. We plopped into the seats, and immediately ordered a bottle of sparkling wine. It was time to celebrate - finally!

A starter of smoked salmon showed up with the cava; no one complained! Mark and I split the lamb stew and the artic char - both good, but the creamy rice with the char was excellent. The table got desserts, and we settled back, finally fat and happy after walking for hours. 

Our hotel for the night was another two hours east. Tomorrow was the ice cave tour, and they had warned to stay nearby in case of bad weather - there are apparently some passes that are harder to cross. 

Tommy and Kamila followed our car as the snow and rain came down. It had built up a little by the time we came to the hotel at Hörgsland. Tommy and Kamila got their own room while the rest of us had a pretty spacious room right by the common area. The newly engaged couple came over for some refreshments while the hostel-like atmosphere outside abated. Mark drank wine out of the horn he acquired at the Settlement Center that morning until we passed out from exhaustion. I

The Golden Circle - Jan. 5, 2017

The weather for Thursday was the worst we saw predicted. As we were thinking about leaving at 10am, the wind was shrieking. I very clearly told everyone that if their car door ripped off in the wind because they didn't hold on to it, they were paying for it. We decided to hunker down for another 30 minutes. 

We got more coffee and hot chocolate in us, and the sun came up a little more, so we were ready to brave the outdoors for our day in the Golden Circle. 

The Golden Circle is typically a day trip from Reykjavik that has to include Þingvellir National Park to see þingvallavatn (the lake Silfra empties into) and Silfra (the rift we dove in), as well as potentially another rift or lake. We were on the opposite side of the circle, and five of us had already seen the national park, so I put that as an optional end to our day - if the weather would cooperate for us. 

We started at the furthest site away - Sulfoss. This multi-level waterfall was situated down in a canyon from where the ice-covered parking lot and gift shop was. We ducked in the gift shop for a minute to gird ourselves for the walk. 

The wind was blowing at our backs to the lookout point above the falls. Informational panels talk about how this private land was trying to be bought by a hydroelectric company, but the owning farmer said he "would not sell a friend." We had heard from our taxi driver that all the natural locations are privately held, but there's a law that you cannot charge admission. The gift shop sales were essentially subsidizing them, in this case. 

The waterfalls thundered over the wind (barely). The amount of people was much different than we saw on Snaefellsnes - here, there were a dozen tour buses of various sizes and easily fifty cars, versus the relative emptiness (a car or two here or there) on Snaefellsnes. 

We joined the crowds in walking down the few flights of stairs to the lower viewing area. From there you could see trails leading much closer to the falls that, with the light dusting of snow, were not wise to try. 

We played with our cameras, helped other groups out with their shots, and had the last of our warmth sapped before climbing back up (add some warmth there) and strolling around the gift shop (all the warmth recharged there).

We had passed the Geysir area on this, the farthest edge of the Golden Circle, so headed back to the third necessary stop on the tour. The geothermal area had a few different geysers: Geysir, the one that all other geysers are named for, only goes off a few times a year. Luckily, Strokkur Geysir had a thirty-foot blast every five to seven minutes. Since we saw it go off as we approached the area, of course it was a full eight minutes of us with our phones out, recording nothing until it had two shorter bursts for us. 

We meandered up see Geysir's pool, as well as a few other named geysers, with their steaming water, sulfur smell, and color-tinged banks. We were at one overlooking Strokkur when we got to see another eruption. At that point, the hail started. It switched to snow after pelting us in the face for the first half of the walk to the gift shop, and then coated us for the final hundred feet across the road and into shelter. 

It was white-out conditions as we paused to regain feeling in our limbs and find bathrooms. We had run out of lunch supplies that morning, so only had half sandwiches in the car, but I had heard of a great lunch spot that was twenty minutes down the road. Twenty minutes if you could see the road. 

We pow-wowed, and since the restaurant was on our way home anyway, we'd play it by ear for driving conditions. We had to leave Geysir sometime, and the forecast said snow for the rest of the afternoon. 

We pulled out of the parking lot. There's a saying in Iceland (at least on t-shirts) that says if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes. We weren't a kilometer down the road when all visibility was restored and not a drop was falling from the sky. 

Taking advantage of this, I stopped at a waterfall called Faxi that was on the way. A slippery boardwalk led twenty feet down a slope to a clearer view of a wide drop, with what looked like a fish ladder on one side. We skated up and down the wood in the calm weather, then finished up the final ten minute journey to Friðheimar Farm. 

I've seen geysers before (though half the group hadn't); I've seen waterfalls all over the world. I've never seen a building radiating light into a slightly snowy sky with such force, and then open and smell so like... tomatoes!

Friðheimar is a family-run farm with greenhouses full of tomatoes. They produce a literal ton of tomatoes every day, and are responsible for 18% of the tomatoes consumed in Iceland. (I was a little shocked it wasn't more, but I never said I was good at market sizing questions.) Hives of bees are imported from the Netherlands, and live out their 6-8 week lives there. The family opens for just four hours every day to welcome guests in for endless soup and bread, a handful of other tomato-based dishes, and the best Bloody Mary's in Europe. 

I don't prefer Bloody Mary's, but that mix was superb. Mark and I went with a soup and a "tortilla" to be different. On the table were basil plants, and we were brought other doctoring ingredients for the soup buffet - sour cream, pickled cucumber salad, salt, pepper. The tortilla was a mini pizza, with lots of cheese and then more Parmesan on the side. There were easily ten types of bread, including cheese,  olive, and caraway. 

Mark and I had three bowls between the two of us (and the pizza), and then I was further challenged by their green tomato and apple pie-in-a-flower-pot with an additional pot of cream. Kamila tried the cheesecake with a green tomato jam on top. All of it was so, so good. Comments of "this should be a required stop on a Golden Circle tour" and "I never want to leave" floated around our table of tourists clutching their bellies. 

The swirling snow hadn't let up, but the sun was clearly decreasing, so we paid for the cheapest meal of our trip (soups were just $24, an Icelandic bargain) and tried to squeeze in one more outdoor activity. 

We headed to Kerið Crater, since the last on we had passed was in the dark the night before, so we saw nothing. The wind was still biting, but no precipitation as we pulled up. We paid 900ISK (about $8) to get in (I know - I though there were no entrance fees in Iceland either) and Mark set off around the rim, with the rest of us to follow. 

The path had a sprinkling of snow, but the volcanic rocks were pretty grippy and we didn't have any issues, though the wind was scaring me away from the edge. It was very circular, with the ridge opposite slightly above were the path entered. A few other mounds further along blocked the wind enough for a group picture on a mini-tripod, but the hail pellets started again and deterred us from the steps down to the frozen lake in the middle. 

The final idea for the day (since the sun was too low, and the weather was too sketchy for the twenty minute drive to Þingvellir) was to try the Secret Lagoon, a hot springs that was fed naturally from the geothermal pools surrounding it, but cool enough for humans. We vacillated a bit, but decided to risk it and head right there. 

The bath house was modern, kind of typical of a nice outdoor public pool, and we got our first glimpse of the Olympic-ish-sized pool from the reception's giant glass wall that faced it. We went back into the changing rooms after paying the $24 entrance fee. The sign explicitly said to shower without your suit before entering the pool to keep it as clean and natural as possible, so we stripped down, averted our eyes, did a ten-second scrub, and hopped into our suits. 

We all gasped as we speed-walked the twenty feet to the pool. The men's locker room was ten feet closer, so half the biting wind before settling in to the rocky-bottomed pool. It was four feet deep in the middle, with gravelly lava rocks on the bottom (and an occasional larger one). It was surrounded by a trio of geysers, and one erupted a few feet twice during our two-hour stay. 

Some intrepid explorers checked out the edge close to the geyser, but it was so hot that Mark and Rachel had to turn around. The Secret Lagoon was not immune to the five minute changes in weather, but getting snowed on was fun, as long as one's shoulders were under the steaming water. It was being pelted with hail where we all faced downwind to avoid the nasty hail to the eye. 

It was great for the sore muscles from horseback riding the day before, and Mark and I exchanged back massages by the far wall as we talked about OTC drugs (Alisa's favorite topic), tattoos (one of Kamila's favorites), and other chitchat. 

Getting out, there was a slight chalky quality on my skin after drying - not unpleasant, just unusual. I grabbed some of the body wash and called it my shower for the next few days (there's not a lot of incentive to have wet hair and the many layers prevented the others from complaining) before changing back into a few of the layers from the day. 

The serene walk outside, with a super high core temperature and a slightly snowfall, was so pleasant. The cool air was refreshing, and the half hour home was simple. I put a pot of red bean soup on to simmer, and started plotting out the next day's activities (and the previous days' expenses). We got to bed with full bellies a little before midnight for a 8:30am departure. There's more sagas to learn about!

Lava and Horses on the Snæfellsnes Peninsula - Jan. 4, 2017

It was an early morning to get to the lava caves before our horse riding expedition. Vatnshellir Cave was actually the setting for "Journey to the Center of the Earth." We missed the 11am tour by a twenty minutes, so bought our tickets for noon and headed to a "black pearl" beach a few minutes up the road. 

Djúpalónssandur had a walk up to a lookout over the beach and the Atlantic. It was blustery, but not awful as we walked to the edge and saw the cliffs around it. I hustled down the dirt path to the beach with the last ten minutes of our trip, and found these lifting stones that were used for strength competitions with sailors, the beautiful round black stones, and a bunch of twisted rusted metal from a trawler that wrecked there. I hustled back up the valley to meet everyone, driving back up the bumpy, one-lane road to the cave. 

Our guide, an Icelander from Hellvar, introduced the area to us. Lava flows from Snæfellsjökull coated the valleys about 1700 years ago, and a crust formed on top while molten rock flowed beneath. The top remained as the lava continued downhill, leaving a cave under the surface. In this spot, the layer collapsed, and an entrance was rediscovered in the 70s when the Ring Road (Þjóðvegur) was being built. 

There were three chambers in the cave. The largest had "balconies" around a central "table" that the troll lord presided over from his "throne", until one day he burst through the table with a beer in his hand, leaving a reside (that was actually a calcium deposit). The tour guide asked for a singer in the group (and Alisa declined), then he offered to sing a verse of an Icelandic song. It resounded beautifully in the chamber!

The middle chamber, which we'd entered in, had two stalagmites which were created by lava oozing up from a hole in the bottom of the cave. I'd never heard of a formation like that before! While it looked like a different body part, the pillar of rock was called "the thumb." We passed a sign with the name of the city on the other side of the world (from Jules Verne's novel).

The final chamber was down a long spiral staircase. Water droplets were falling from the ceiling and echoing around the cave. The back of the cave was cordoned off because the lava rock was too soft to walk on. The guide had us all turn off our flashlights, the only light in the cave, then had us listen to the "song of the cave."

We wound our way up, and our guide locked the silo door that protected the entrance. 

With a few hunger rumbles, we headed to a nearby cliff to eat for the twenty minutes before our horseback tour. The cliffs were called Londrangar - very windy! We were getting sprayed from something, either rain or the ocean from 100 feet below, then huddled in the car to eat our sandwiches. 

We arrived at Lýsuhóll and suited up for the smattering of weather that we'd be driving through. A dozen or so horses were in the barn, with a few with saddles on. The guide picked us off one by one, least experienced to most, and we ended up with our collection of shaggy, potbellied horses. Alisa got Reykur, which means "smoke" (since Reykjavik means "smoky bay"), and I got Tíbrá. Rachel rode Maístjarna with Mark on Nasi. Kamila and Tommy were on Vinur and Kaffi, and a very impressive black horse was for our guide. 

We started off at a walk from the barn. Despite knowing that Kamila was an absolute beginner, he gave pretty much no instruction. Pull to lead, kick to go, pull to stop. His horse started off, and mine was quickly overtaken by Alisa's, who was insistent that she be first. We went through a few fences as the sun came out, but, five minutes later, it started spitting on us. Around that time, we moved into a trot - very bouncy, so I attempted to post. Icelandic horses have a fifth gait called a "tolt." I'll need to do research to figure out exactly what that is, but we might have done that. 

The rain increased, and so did our pace. We were galloping and rain was streaming down our faces! I was giddy with excitement, holding on and laughing (and being thankful for my helmet). The horses in the pasture next to us joined in - it was a only a pair, but it felt like we were part of a herd!

We trotted, walked, galloped, and continued around the circle through farmlands. A stream was iced over, and the leader's horse refused to walk through. He attempted to led Mark's, which resulted in his horse nearly rearing - good thing he's the most accomplished rider! I had to kick mine through, but I wouldn't take no for an answer, so Tíbrá made it through. Kamila's was next, and didn't sweat it a bit - the guide said they put five-year-olds on it, but I'm pretty impressed if they gallop with little kids. It was just on the edge of out of control!

As we were headed back with wet laps and bruised butts, the guide happened to mention that he had more full, waterproof overalls. He just didn't expect it to rain. We all rolled our eyes; it'd been raining off and on all day for us!

Back to the stable, we dismounted and said our goodbyes to our loyal steeds. We changed in the farmhouse, then headed off the peninsula. I tried to steer us by some basalt cliffs, but it was 5pm, so pitch black. No luck. 

The only dry clothes that Rachel had was a pair of pajama pants, but I managed to convince her and the others to stop by the Settlement Center. It had great reviews, and it was that dose of history that we've only had a bit of that I was looking for too. 

Thankfully, it was pretty casual - a gift shop had a nice restaurant up top, then a basement and a first floor on the other side with audio guides. The first tour we went through was of the original settlers of Iceland - found, then purposefully sought out. The southern coasts were populated first, and a bunch of maps showed where different early settlers and sagas took place. 

The second tour was an interpretation of Egil's saga. He was a trickster poet with a moody father and highly regarded older brother (whose widow he eventually married, because, you know, everyone dies). The saga referenced an early game similar to hockey, witchcraft by a queen of Norway, and much valiant fighting (or just stupid fighting, depending on how you look at it).

We were close to some of the locations - there were pictures of what the farms look like today, and the red-roofed buildings looked like many that we had passed. 

The restaurant was still open, so after a gander at the gift shop (a pretty good one), we sat down for a quiet meal.

We were seated next to the back wall upstairs, which was the raw stone of the hill that this building was constructed into. We'd been seeing a lot of clusters of buildings in the middle of trees (Iceland has essentially be clear cut, so planted trees) or against hills as wind protection. Some, such as the Settlement Center, went a step further to just embed themselves into the landscape. 

The server was on point - he recommended the horse steak (it was very good) and the fish soup (with a red broth base and a bunch of yummy stuff in it), and we all tucked in. For dessert, what's more Icelandic than a lava cake with local ice cream?

We have another two hours of driving, during which there were at least four seasons of weather changing all the time, until we got to our tiny cottage (with a hot tub out front) within the Golden Circle. 

Whale-watching on the Snæfellsnes Peninsula - Jan. 3, 2017

It was a pretty good day for whale-watching! We continue to rise while it is dark, then drive to Grundarfjörður. A morning without precipitation, though you know we had all the rain gear we brought on for the wind and spray protection. 

We managed to get to Láki Tours to suit up with a few minutes to spare and, what do you know, they had their own "gumby" suits for us to get into. They were waterproof with an internal warm layer. We were nearly the last people on the boat, so we hung out on the stern while the other thirty or so people were spread around the boat, but concentrated in the front (where they all got sprayed). We launched with an announcement about emergency procedures (all in English) then a warning that they hadn't been out in a few days, but they didn't see anything New Year's Eve. 

We set off from shore, through the fjord where it was located. Kirkjufell is a very picturesque, cone-shaped mountain just west of the town, and it guarded our exit. 

As we rounded the corner to head east (a solid 30 minutes into the trip), we moved into the sun. As per the whole trip, it was low and in the south, so we played with pictures of it with the mountains and the ocean. 

As we approached the first of two fjords that they sail in to check for orcas feeding on the herring that winter there, the tour guide told us to be on the lookout for seabirds gathering over the herring ball that gets created by the whales. I yelled at a few gulls to try to convince them to find a pod for us, but they ignored me. The sea eagle was our big find in that fjord. 

It was perhaps 90 minutes into what we thought might have been a two hour trip (spoiler: it was not) when we continued down the second fjord. They served us very rich hot chocolate, and I went back for a second serving before going under for a nap. We had been standing and watching the water for a long time, so we decided to let someone else do the watching. (Also, getting to bed at 2am after hot-tubbing added to the afternoon drowsy.)

I woke up after maybe twenty minutes and felt every wave in the pit of my stomach and back of my throat. That second cup of hot chocolate was coming back to bite me! I shed a few layers (really, just took my arms out of the suit and tied it around my waist) as I moved back to the back of the boat with its cold air and cold metal to lean against. 

The nausea was subsiding as they announced that we'd be swinging close to an island on our way back into our home fjord to look at the gulls and potentially seals!

We had three marine mammal sightings as a trio of grey seals with their puppy dog faces bobbed in and out of the water by a plateau of an island. Apparently during the summer, this is where the puffins hang out to tend to their nests then babies.

We got back to shore after 3pm, shed the suit, got our tickets validated (no whales = free trip anytime in the future!), and headed west into the peninsula. Well, after eating the lunches we'd packed. I made a little too much egg salad this morning, so Mark's and my sandwiches were overflowing. Instead of risking his pants, he danced while eating in the slight chill outside the car. 

It was time to explore! I had no sooner told the crew that they should holler whenever they wanted to pull over when the interlocking pound sign that signifies a scenic area popped up. It was a waterfall! We took the turn and came upon Kirkjufellsfoss - the waterfall that matched the mountain. A signboard told us that a woman lost her two sons here to the water as they were trying to fish, so she put a spell on the falls so no people or fish would die there.

Alisa and I risked our shoes to jump onto the rock bar in the stream coming out of the falls to get a different view, but no one was swept away. 

Some other tourists were competing to see who could skip a rock across the ice farthest without it falling into the water. We never got our own chance to play, but it is a good amusement. 

Next on the official list was Rauðfeldsgjá, a ravine where, in Bárðar's saga, some guy with red hair was pushed into it and died - hence "Red-Fur Canyon." We had found some pretty turn-offs beforehand, as well as a bunch of Icelandic horses! The cut-through from the north side of the peninsula to the south side was foggy and wet, but it cleared up by the time we got to the parking for the ravine. 

After a few hours on a boat, it was nice to get out and stretch. The rift was pretty skinny, and we didn't have a great view from the kilometer or so away we were, so Rachel and I started hiking up. The snow had crusted over, so we couldn't create our own tracks along the sloping bank; we were forced to pick between the unknown slipperiness of the icy snow or the potentially deep footprints of yesterday's hikers. 

We picked our way up, and Mark made it up for a group picture. The ravine itself was fine - not something I'd necessarily stop for again this time of year, but you could wade up the stream in the summer. We channeled our "inner puffin" to take little steps and stay in control all the way down the hill. 

It was getting pretty dusky as we arrived back to the cars. There is a national park on the very end of the peninsula with two towns just before it. We drove past Arnistapi, a small fishing village, then attempted to find a well-rated coffee shop in neighboring Hellnar. We ended up on a dirt road (yay, 4WD), but the tiny building was shuttered up. We passed up on the one building that looked open since there were a handful of restaurants to the north that were closer to the hostel we wanted to end up. 

The Snaefellsnes Peninsula was where the intrepid explorers in Jules Verne's novel journeyed to the center of the world, so the Freezer Hostel was putting on a show depicting it at 8pm. However, it was 5pm, dark, and cold, and none of the restaurants were open. So we abandoned that plan and headed back to Stykkishólmur and our hot tub and AirBnB. We made a late dinner of rice, chicken, and a yummy Thai sauce then jumped in the hot tub with more boxed wine. 

Diving Silfra - Jan. 2, 2017

Reykjavik and Silfra

It's all been a lie. A lie no one has attempted to correct. We dove "between the continent plates" today, because the fissure that is Silfra is in the three-plus miles between the ridge for the North American plate and the European plate! All those pictures of divers touching the two sides of the fissure - they aren't touching different plates. Just super cool rocks in an amazingly clear dive. 

While it was all a lie and it was very, very uncomfortable at points, it was a really cool experience. We got picked up at 9:50 in a van with only five passenger seats, yet enough head room to stand. That is because  more of my assumptions were incorrect. I thought we'd be stopping at a dive shop to get fitted for dry suits; instead, a shop's worth of dry suits was in the back half of the van!

We stopped at the visitor's center for Thingvillar (the national park Silfra is in) to finish up paperwork and wait for the the other pair of people diving with us. 

The tour van parking was crowded. They seemed to act like it wasn't crazy, but they were definitely jockeying for spots. We were fitted with puffy onesies, made of a slightly slick fabric, then were given the dry suits. They were crushed neoprene, like the ones Alisa and I dove in near Seattle, and they baby-powdered the cuffs around the wrists and neck to facilitate ducking through them. (Alisa's neck seal didn't work on the first one, so she had to drag herself in and out of two different suits!)

It was "balmy" since it was in the mid-forties, but some waiting by the cars for the other divers and a brisk wind chilled our hands and heads. When we got our hoods and gloves for the briefing, I definitely put them on quick. 

We got our weight harnesses and BCDs on, then trudged the 100m to the put-in point. We were in about the sixth group back. The only thing I'm thankful for is that there were benches. Other than that, the 40+ minute wait was torturous. The wind was hitting the back of my neck, my already-cold fingers weren't getting a lot more blood flow, and the three pairs of socks wasn't enough under rubber boots sitting in a cold puddle. My legs were trembling with the cold by the time we said goodbye to Rachel and her snorkeling crew and Tommy, Mark, Alisa, and I finally climbed down the metal steps to the platform. 

I suck at weight checks - I get frazzled and kick and have too much air in my chest - so when I dropped like a rock during the weight check, I knew I was over-weighted, but the 30 minute dive time and the max depth of 12m/30ft meant that there was plenty of leniency.

Alisa and I got behind Kuba, the first dive guide, and descended into the first crack. 

It was a decent depth right at the start, so I descended to ten or fifteen feet and started inflating my BCD. And inflating it. And inflating. It took twenty-plus seconds of air, instead of the usual squirt, to start to have constituent buoyancy.

Which we only needed for maybe fifty feet until the roller coaster started. The bottom rose from the 100 feet up to maybe 10, so I inelegantly scraped along the lava rocks as I cut it a bit close. I did mean that I got a close-up of a lizard-style fish, with two fins fanned out to rest on the rock. I'm not sure if it was that ridge or one of the other half dozen that Alisa saw a coldwater shrimp on. 

The slight current continued, and we ascended, descended, hovered, plunged, floated - everyone was doing pretty poorly on buoyancy, but the fact that I couldn't feel my lips on the regulator made me think of breathing first, buoyancy second, and camera third as most of my pictures are blurry messes (including one of Mark and Tommy reaching between the sides of the rift).

They were right that the clarity was amazing. The rocks were crystal clear. Normally that feels like flying to me, but the suit squeeze didn't make anything feel pressure-free. 

We "snorkeled" through three feet or less of water before a final dive down and a left turn. The lagoon where we exited was muddier - some interesting rocks right at the beginning and surrounding the lagoon, but I headed straight toward the take-out point and the metal stairs out, which meant I saw the sandy, muddy bottom as my hands lost feeling and my face was raw from cold. 

We climbed out, then hiked (with 35 pounds of weight and the 30 pounds of equipment on top of that) the quarter mile back to the van and the table. I was breathing heavy by the end of that - surprisingly not too cold. 

While there was an offer of a second dive, the thought of even half of the wait again on the benches to get into the rift (and the fact that at least Rachel would be waiting in the car the whole time), warned us off. Hot chocolate, cookies, and peeling off all their layers to add back our outerwear. 

Alisa chatted with the Singaporeans that were the last pair on our dive, while the gal that Rachel had found snorkeling (with a boyfriend that teaches scuba in Alexandria - sound familiar?) hung out for a bit too. Ultimately, it was the five of us back in the van, and we headed home. We asked about grocery stores (Kronan's are better, but also more expensive, than Bonus's), alcohol (Vinbudir is their state-controlled beverage store), and their backgrounds (Poland and Sweden). 

We arrived back, had Kamila come down with the keys, then started baking some pizza. We were home by 4, so it was nap time (or cleaning time) then Mark, Tommy, and I walked to pick up the cars. 

We had ordered two older model 4x4s. One is a 2005 Ford Explorer. The other is European car that I drove with Tommy. The idle on the Eurocar was very rough, and there were a couple clunks as we made our way back, but it was still running when we made it back to the friend's house. We locked up then headed to the Snaefellsnes peninsula! With an initial detour at a grocery store. 

We grabbed assorted breakfast, lunch, and dinner items, then I hopped back in with Tommy and Kamila, and we bumped along in the car, getting through a tunnel before finding a gas station - and who was already there but the other car! We caravanned to our rented house. 

The hot tub out back mystified all of us - it felt ok but not hot, and we could not find controls for it. We hopped in anyway, and it had hot water rising from the plug in the bottom, so it was satisfactory while we watched the stars. No Northern lights, but good company as we made hot chocolate and chatted until 2. 

New Year's Day in Reykjavik - Jan. 1, 2017

The itinerary for yesterday was "revelries." Check. The itinerary for today was nothing until 5pm. 

With a slow, lazy start to the first morning of 2017, everyone was pretty much up by noon, with only a few headaches and hoarse voices. We ate from the eggs, butter, toast, Skyr (yogurt), and granola we'd collected, then bundled up for a temperature hovering around 35 instead of 25 like last night. 

We got to Hallgrimskirkja at 3pm, right as service was letting out. We were in the queue to enter when the only other person we know in Iceland (the girl from the plane) left the church! Mark had gotten her info the day before, so we talked briefly about meeting up later and filed into the church. 

The church met the generalization we'd gotten the day before from Rachel's friend as "70s minimalist". The pews were comfy as we warmed up looking at the organ and the slitted windows with a lot of step structure from the outside echoed inside. 

The Sun Explorer is a sculpture of a boat along the shore on the north side of downtown Reykjavik. We walked down the steep (but not as slippery) hill to the shore, then vogued in front of it for a while as the sun "set." 

We wandered back up to the main drag to get to our only true plan of the day - "Pearls of Icelandic Song" at Harpa, a giant concert hall. Rachel's friend met us there with an authentic Icelander in tow and we sat in a slightly chilly auditorium listening to Icelandic Christmas songs while their translations were being projected on the back wall. The foursome that was on stage (two singers, a pianist, and an oboist) gave us a bit of background on each song. Our Icelander confirmed that all the songs were known by him, but we equated his chuckles during some of them as us listening to a choral arrangement of Hickory Dickory Dock - possible, but not how you usually hear it. 

With our now-group of 8, dinner was a challenge. We got a pair of tables in a restaurant with some wonderfully plated dishes. Since we were going for the foreign, Mark, Kamila, Tommy, and I split the smoked puffin, the whale mini steaks, and the horse carpaccio. The puffin had a fatty, round taste, with a hint of sea, and great smoked flavors. The whale was in small medallions, and each had a nice sear on the outside with rare, rich meat on the inside - a mild flavor that was more beef than fish. The horse was in sliver-thin slices that might have been raw - the sauces accompanying it made a great, juicy bite of red meat. 

The sad part was that all of these were small plates, so the four of us weren't even close to full. The hotdog stand outside was calling, but the veggie burger of sweet potatoes and carrots helped tide us over until we could get there. The table with Alisa, Rachel, and her friends was still working on their main course, so I ordered some cream puffs to put the cherry (or raspberry, creme de leche, and chocolate crunch, as it were) on the meal. 

Rachel's friend walked us to Baejarin's hot dog stand - the best hot dogs in Reykjavik according to many guidebooks and the locals we were with! For the others, it was a bit less crazy than the other meats, but the crispy onions, gravy, and mustard made it a different crunchy snack than we know in America. 

The girl from the plane ended up catching up with us, and we took the mile walk home past Hallsgrimkirkja and the park with the litter of fireworks. Hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps, games, and an early night, because tomorrow, we dive between the continental plates!