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!
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