Smábátahöfn

Our morning started with a quick stop at the local grocery store, where we procured a strong of coffee and nough sustenance to last until lunch. Our first stop was close by, so we slept in a bit this morning, making up for the lost hours of dreamtime yesterday. We literally drove around a hill to reach the Reynisfjara black sand beach. At 30 degrees, 20 mph winds, and a wind chill in the teens, we weren’t going for the beach part. After drawing my hood on tight, we walked out to the water to see the geometric formations, exposed by the waves. The ocean-facing cliff had eroded to reveal vertical basalt columns in rectangular patterns. As you approach, the columns jet upward and are very think. There is a small cave, facing the water, which has smaller columns shooting down at the viewer from different angles. Then, around the next turn, are fragile-looking thin columns, which seem to suspend from the cliff side. We didn’t stay too long, with the bitter cold, but the sound of the waves did invite us to linger just a little longer.

Back in the car, we blasted the heat, as we headed east toward Sólheimajökull glacier. It’s a short drive but long enough to warm up. Now inland, it felt warm without the ocean “breeze.” The glacier is a 10-15 minute walk from the parking lot, although it used to terminate at the parking lot before receding to its current position. The path is cut through a hillside covered with moss and grass. It’s weird for someone from Colorado to see so much green in the cold. It seems like everything turns brown in the winter back home. The hillside sloped downward into the glacial lagoon, where a few icebergs floated motionlessly. The glacier lends itself for a visit, despite the guidebooks warning: “You’ll see a sign telling you not to proceed farther. There are several reasons for this: melting ice under sand can create a quicksand-like phenomenon, poisonous volcanic gas can be released from under the glacier, ice calving off the glacier can create small tidal waves on the lagoon, rock can slide down the slope, and people can simply slip and fall into the cold lagoon.” Duly noted. We walked past the warning sign, which most people didn’t even notice, and stepped onto the glacier. I told Kim that the only regret I had, when we climbed Kilimanjaro, was that I hadn’t walked to the glacier, when we camped in the crater. (You wouldn’t have either at 19K feet after hiking uphill all day and suffering from dehydration.) But here was my chance to touch some very old frozen water. Kim and I climbed up about 30 feet, until it became too icy and slippery. We took a few pictures, had a lick, and hiked back to the car.

Approaching Skógafoss waterfall, we spied a food truck in the front yard of a house. A small parking lot had been scraped next to the road, and we stopped for some locally sourced fish and chips (not sure where the potatoes came from). Mia was delightful and fried up some of the best fish and chips I’ve ever had. A light batter and perfectly crispy chips. Yum. My tummy was so happy, until somebody said there were over 500 stairs to climb at the falls. Luckily, I try to climb the 11 floors at work each day, so the extra weight wasn’t too adverse. The falls were mighty. With a thunderous crashing sound, it sprayed mist far into the air. Kim and I took the staircase up to the top and got the aerial view of the water tumbling over the cliff. The river that feeds the falls winds it way far beyond our allotted time, originating in one of the glaciers to the north.

Another quick drive brought us to the Seljalandsfoss waterfall, as the sun was threatening to give up for the day. The 210 foot waterfall isn’t huge, but you can walk behind it and enjoy the water plunging into the pool below. Most visitors seemed to stop there, but we continued down the trail, where smaller falls came into view every 100 yards or so. Although not as dramatic, they each had their own character; some dropped, some became small creeks, and others dribbled down the side. There may have been more, but we called it quits, as our noses turned red and my fingers were starting to freeze. Before we made it to the car, the hot chocolate vendor exchanged our money for a steaming cup of joy. The hot cups warmed our hands, while we drove to the Lava Center.

The Lava Center is a state-of-the-art exhibit on volcanoes and earthquakes. The lobby has a display of all the earthquakes within the past 48 hours and describes the many volcanic regions in and around the country. The registration staff person was delightful and had a great sense of humor. I wondered how anyone could work with stupid tourists all day and still be so engaging two hours before closing. In an effort to be helpful, she recommended a trip outside, where we could catch a view of the sunset over the ocean, as well as the volcanoes that ring the center. We thought we were being strategic, when we left our coats in the car, so our visit to the roof was a quick one. She was right, though. The view was beautiful and dominated by four volcanoes, covered in glaciers, from north to east of the Center. We bounced down the stairs and took her second piece of advice: the cinema. The front of the theater had huge beanbag-like mats for lying down and absorbing the film. Kim and I went horizontal. I’m not sure that she stayed awake, but I enjoyed the incredible photography of volcanoes spewing lava and ash. The rest of the center had interactive displays. Each room exercised a different method of displaying information. My favorite was the last room, where you had to stand in a marked spot to activate a large screen with a floor-to-ceiling projection of the Icelandic volcanoes around the center. From my designated spot, I pointed at dots on the screen, which would then unveil some interesting fact about that volcano. I think there were about five volcanoes that could be activated in the room. It was an interesting way of presenting information. The Center also houses a little tourist information (TI) area. When we were driving away, Kim noted that the screen that displays all traveling routes and road conditions indicated that the black beach, where we started this morning, was currently closed due to a rock slide. Luck seems to be on our side.

It was dark, but clear, when we arrived in Reykjavik. We found our apartment and hauled our luggage in from the car. We stayed long enough to cook some popcorn and brew some tea for the thermos. Bundled up, we started our hunt for the Northern lights. We decided to forgo the $70-100 tour and do it ourselves. We are staying on the edge of Reykjavík, so we were on a dark, secluded, dirt road in 15 minutes. For the first two hours, we could only see a faint hint of the lights; it looked more like fog on the horizon than anything else. It was about 11:20 and Kim and Deb were ready to head back to the apartment. I looked at my “Aurora” app and noted that the probability of seeing the lights was to increase by 5% over the next 20 minutes. Just as I was talking them into staying a few more minutes, a streak of green appeared in the sky. There was a long horizontal light, pulsating from south to north, and a cluster of lights to the north. I was beyond pleased, when my first photos indicated that I had followed the “how to photograph the northern lights” Google search results perfectly. I couldn’t believe it. There, in my little camera screen, glowed the aurora borealis. Except this time, I had taken the picture, not some anonymous photographer for NatGeo. We stood with mouths agape for quite a long time, until they fizzled out. Kim was hooked and wanted to stay longer, as our probabilities were increasing. Although we did see them again, they weren’t as defined as the first time. I think my toes were frozen together by the time we got back to the apartment. Luckily, my side of the bed was right next to the radiator, so I stuck my feet on the heat and fell asleep.Read more