I was lucky enough to get into a tour that was completely booked for the season, across a few days where I had nothing planned. I was even luckier that my Russian buddy Sergey left his expensive camera gear with me when he left, so I could keep taking photos — the whole exchange can certainly restore ones faith in humanity — too bad I'm going to end up selling it for beer money (he says tongue in cheek...)
There are so many tourist brochures in Reykjavik where you would expect them, but this tour company doesn't appear to advertise. I happened to find a series of travel photos which made reference to the tour operator when I was Googling Jökulsárlón "glacial river lagoon" which Wikipedia had told me was where A View to a Kill, Die Another Day, Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and Batman Begins were all filmed, in and around Breiðamerkurjökull. Finally learning "Jökul" in Icelandic translates to glacier, and variations of "fjall" as the suffix translates to Mountain, became such a help wading through all these famously impossible-to-understand Icelandic landmarks. As an aside, Snæfellsnes is now known in Room 311 as Snuffleupagus. The "glacial river lagoon" feeds from Vatnajökull, the largest of Icelands glaciers covering 8% of the country. It has a long list of outlet glaciers including Svínafellsjökull where Interstellar and much of Game of Thrones have been filmed ...beyond the wall. That was definitely also on my list, and when I arrived I was lucky to get a shot of a raven flying overhead, which tied in perfectly with the GOT-verse. This was definitely a tour you would need to book well in advance, so I was incredibly lucky there was a cancellation and I managed to secure a spot, as well as ending up with another great group of people.
We set of on tour first thing in the morning, and went straight to a Café as a massive storm had shut down much of the smaller roads outside of the city. It only took a small coffee before the storm had moved to other areas and we were able to head to the first stop, a cave just outside of Reykjavik. The casualness once we arrived was profound, we were given helmets and literally pointed at a completely dark opening in the snow, just wide enough to climb into. I was lured into a false sense of security by the guides' candidness and I just jumped straight down. Luckily there was someone halfway down to stop my fall, otherwise I would have done some damage had I kept racing through the tunnel. The cave was quite special, the air felt different, strangely clearer. There was a green piercing glow coming through collapsed openings where snow had funneled in—I'm not sure what caused it—perhaps this was an earlier construct of Clark Kent's and the moving guys left behind some kryptonite. We spent a short while here, and a few of us went exploring around the darker corners. There were only a couple headlamps to go around so luckily I had mine with me, stalking off into the darkness where I could get a better shot of all the ice stalactites undisturbed by collapsing snow.
After making a short stop at a town further east we arrived at the "Secret Falls" near Seljalandsfoss, which you would never be able to find by yourself. We had to walk up river between a small opening in the rock face, humming green with moss—hopping along on stones in the river before making it to a small elevated space beneath the falls. The mist was intense and drenched everything, I only got out the camera for a short second, while it was covered in my jumper. It was nearly in vain, as I'd forgotten I was in manual focus, and never actually framed the shot. That considered, it turned out surprisingly well. In the shot is a massive boulder, which a couple of us jumped on top of, which was really neato.
After getting a few shots of some nearby very old, rundown huts, we packed up and headed to a small homestead a short drive from the falls, once an old church, now a home surrounded by lots of Icelandic horses. I learnt all about how the horses are used — they literally drain the blood of the blódmerar (blood mares) whilst they are pregnant, and their blood is used to make make various drugs, including the birth control pill. Apparently the process is no worse than when humans donate blood, but listening to the whole thing over coffee and Icelandic pancakes just sounded rather weird. The house casually had a painting in the living room from a band member of Of Monsters and Men, whom the girl we chatted with is good friends with. There's so much talent in Iceland—strange to consider everyone seems to be on fist name basis.
Our next stop was a quick one, at Skógafoss, perhaps too brief. I'd been there before on a much nicer day however, so I wasn't at all bothered. We then rounded up and trekked further east to Reynisdrangar beach, passing the now infamous Eyjafjallajökull Volcano. For the first time we had a proper safety speech — never turn your back on the ocean, nor get closer than 30 metres. Wish I had this information a few days earlier, when I nearly died a stone-throw away. There was a massive collection of naturally formed granite columns, and a series of caves carved out by the waves that were visible, but far too dangerous to venture near. The guides seemed rather tense letting us roam here, and one uncomfortably went as far as saying he's gone into the water for people before, but gave me the feeling there were much more grim versions of the story. I quickly saw why there was so much concern. The currents here stretch to the south pole, and are the most dangerous seas I have ever seen, with no real consistency where the waves break. I too was becoming quickly nervous watching people edge closer, and a couple of people actually got demolished, luckily not being dragged out to sea — I doubt they would ever return.
That finished off day one, but it was still an adventure heading to basecamp, taking us a few hours longer than planned. A massive snow storm (something I keep mentioning within Iceland...) kept visibility down to almost none, greatly delaying the travel time. When we arrived at the cabin, there was a massive rack of lamb just coming out of the oven, a plate of kæstur hákarl (rotten/fermented shark), and a lot of Brennivín (Black Death); Iceland's premium spirit to go around. I've drunken enough of it now that I'm immune to it's absolute harshness. Everyone was crowded around the shark, saying it's the worse thing they've ever tasted, some looking a little worse for wear. I was expecting something a lot more putrid, but I think I ended up being the only one that didn't particularly mind it—tasted like old socks—I'd rather this over Olives. Not pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but I could easily eat a handful of the chunks, and so I did. Besides, the shot of Black Death killed any of its lingering taste, so I went off to dinner with quite an appetite. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, but one point did stand out. There was a really rough viking guide from the other group that had been getting quite merry. He's a crazy Icelandic motocross champion and extreme sport enthusiast who looks absolutely terrifying—I got a photo of him the next day standing next to the offroad-truck. We had a good conversation going before he kept insisting I wasn't from New Zealand, and that I should correctly say I'm from Australia. He was confused the countries are the same thing. Of course I wasn't bothered but still made the effort to point out the differences. He had none of it. I then told him geographically that was like calling him a Greenlander. He wasn't happy about that. I'll save the insane verbatim, but there was a lot of talk about teeth being removed and how in his words Greenlanders do certain drunken things with seals, among other things. Luckily I was just out of arms reach across the table, as he repeatedly slammed down his fists looking like he was going to tear me apart. Eventually one of the sober guides appeared from her slumber, and after having to compete for a short while with his volume, I explained exactly what I was asserting, arguing against his accusations of my insulting belligerent ignorance. She then began yelling at him for another 10 minutes in Icelandic, which was really quite fascinating to watch. She was definitely the scarier one. He realised his mistake, went in for the most manly hug ever constructed, and then offered to fly me to Greenland so I could see the differences between the cultures — still far from grasping my point, now so far removed from the conversation. It was then well into the very early hours of the morning, I recall a couple boxes of cask wine with a few of the guides and my new blood-brother..., and one of them cracking the length of my spine 12 times before I hit the pillow like a cloud, now an inch taller, having the greatest nights sleep, well rested after only a couple hours.
The next morning we set out, making our first stop at Jökulsárlón "glacial river lagoon". It was interesting to hear how during filming of the James Bond movie Die Another Day, they blocked off the lagoons sea-access, freezing it over completely so they could drive Aston-Martins around it's surface. I got some really neat photos — it really was otherworldly, and a picture certainly says a thousand words. We then headed for the black sand beach which was absolutely littered with icebergs, some of which were grounded ashore, more dense than rock it seemed, and almost fluorescent blue. I was so glad that I pushed in front of a few photographers (after waiting for quite some time) and got a great shot of me standing (and nearly falling) off the iceberg. I was prepared to be soaked, since the waves would come over top—probably why I was the only one with such a brilliant idea...
I then met up with the crazy viking from the night earlier, and he took us off-roading while we listened to some awesome Icelandic Death Metal. He explained the song was about this specific glacier, asking for safe passage, and how most Icelandic songs are in a similar vein. I'm starting to get quite hooked on different Icelandic artists, they really have a fantastic and unique music scene, inspired by the incredible surrounds. The viking dropped us near the ultimate ice cave, and retired to a packet of cigarettes. It was unnerving hearing the safety speech the night before, and learning only 1 of the 4 guides would take us in, because two of them have kids, and even the insane viking wouldn't risk it — I suppose it's only a few thousand tonnes of ice which will eventually come crashing down, perhaps next Thursday. I rationalized it was like getting an x-ray done—the attendant will always stand outside, as doing it every day would increase the risks for them greatly. Going for an x-ray once a decade however carries such a minimal risk in comparison. And with that I was crawling into a glacier. The guide who took us through (the one who saved me the night before) was a fourth generation mountaineer, and seemed to carry with her some sort of spiritual connection with the glacier, or so the story went. It was a short walk to the opening, and before long we were geared and passing into the cave. Blue was everywhere, with fractals glowing through every part of ice, with varying intensity and hue. It all looked so fragile, but the columns stretching to the floor were made of tonnes of incredibly dense ice, much like my freezer. There were a couple inside taking wedding photos, the groom in a suitably warm suit, while the bride was in a flowing red dress, nicely shot with the blue backdrop, but horrendously cold with her exposed legs. We were given a lot more freedom within the cave than I had imagined following the extreme safety talk, and I was swept up in it all to worry about the photos I was taking, which is how it should be. Surreal, absolutely surreal. The cave had an exit at the back, which opened out to another planet. Definitely saw a lot of what was shot in the film Interstellar, when they find Matt Damon's characters planet. The glacier moves 10 metres a year, or an inch a day, rolling instead of sliding, picking up everything in its path like a street sweeper. The glacier was charred a deep black from all the volcanic ash, intensely contrasted against the dustings of snow. It really was like walking on Jupiters moon Europa. I then got to drink from a stream exiting the glacier, probably the freshest water you could find. Re-entering the cave I was able to grab a few quick photos where the couple had been taking their wedding photos, and was able to lick the cave ceiling. Not sure why exactly, but that had been on my list. The guide thought it was particularly strange, and couldn't remember anyone ever doing it. If you ever find yourself inside a glacial cave, I definitely recommend giving the roof such a closer inspection.
I was brimming with confidence that the Ice Cave would be by far the highlight, but the next stop at Svínafellsjökull proved to be a contest. We were given giant ice cleats, and an ice pick each. There was a risk falling into crevasses and "swirls", particularly with the sly snow concealing much of the dangerous spots. We were given a very thorough demonstration with one of the guides falling over and using his body weight to plunge the pick into the ice. Apparently the crazy viking has ended up several metres down crevasses in the area, and there were lots more stories with messier endings. We went off in single file, trying to obey a strict distance between each person. I'm not sure why, but "PINK" was deemed the safe-word if there was an issue or someone needed to stop. At one point the leader told us to wait, and literally ran off, disappearing into one of the glaciers openings which had erupted though the surface. We weren't quite sure what was happening, but he re-appeared a couple minutes later, a hundred or so metres in a completely different spot, with a crazy Icelandic grin on his face that I've come to recognise during my time here. He had scouted out a crevasse and deemed it safe enough to bring us through it. This was the highlight for me. Descending into a valley chiseled out of ice, walking alongside an unimaginably large chunk of wavy, translucent, deep blue glacier, vivid and smooth. This was uncharted territory for our guide too, and he was happily joining in on the flurry of selfies at the bottom of the opening. We then hiked further up to a pseudo-peak, where we now had a clear view of the 7 kilometres stretching to where the glacier then traverses vertically, up through the mountains. Got myself a good photo with one of our guides Teitur, his name given to him as a young child which means happy, or cheerful. Finding this out we then were told about how Icelandic children are often not given names at birth, and are only named when parents have found something suiting the child's personality — rather neat I thought, but it would be rather difficult saying Awesome Newsome three times fast. I left my mark on the glacier top, if only for a moment, and that nicely tied up the day.
This was the final event of the two day trip. It was such an adventure, and an incredible struggle not to write more about it (even considering the terrifying length of this so far). It was a very long trip back to Reykjavik and we ended up back at the famous hotdog stand by the waterfront around 10pm, where I easily wolfed down perhaps my 39th Icelandic hotdog of the trip so far. Despite being knackered, I quickly showered, and went out on the town, even bought myself an $18 beer... staying out till morning — ain't no rest for the wicked, and I don't have work tomorrow.
