Casting for Northern Lights

The stars and planets aligned last night. The weather was clear and the forecast for solar activity was moderate. Plus, I had a voucher for a tour, so we didn't have to drive.

On the way to the viewing spot, at Thingvellir National Park, the moon was up,shining brightly at nearly full. It wasn't quite dark enough, so I took the opportunity to make a list of blog posts to write and catch you up.

As we arrived, our guide said seeing the lights is like fishing, it takes patience. Normally. I don't fish at temperatures just above freezing, but the analogy was appropriate.

I rarely catch big fish. Last night, we caught the guppie.

We saw a faint mist that gave the idea of how grand the lights can be. It was amazing to watch the faint yellow-green glow emerge from the semi-darkness, to grow and stretch its fingeretips.

But the many pictures you see of the lights painting the sky, it was not. In fact, you probably wouldn't have seen them at all we we you not looking.

We have another shot tonight, but sun activity is forecast to be a little less and clouds may roll in after dark. However, I think we're going to need to try a different bait.

Northern lights?

As I write, we are at Hotel Geysir, hoping the skies will clear again and we will see the northern lights. This is the first clear day we-ve had our entire trip.

Cross your fingers for us.

The edge of glory

Thursday's travels ended at Gulfoss, or Golden Waterfall. What had been slated for hydroelectric power production was preserved by a single crusader in the 1900s.

The falls are more powerful than Niagra, though not nearly as big. They plunge in two stages to a gorge below. Trails at the overlook park split in two, and I chose the low road (no comment from the peanut gallery).

The trail ran at the level of the second dip. Spray from the falls pelted me as I wallked along the trail. At the end, a rocky ledge, about 25 feet wide, stepped up from the path.

"No way " I said under my breath. And climbed up.

The ledge reached out nearly into the falls. I could see the mud churned up by the velocity of the water. The sound of rushing water enveloped me, as thousands upon thousands of water continued their plunge to the gorge below.

Despite the volume, despite the spray, despite the (somewhat) precarious position, this was a peaceful place for me and I stood watching and listening to the raw power of nature. Its good to be reminded of that once in a while.

Genesis at the end of the Earth

When we read about thermal fields, I imagined steam coming off the earth. Definitely worth seeing.

Reality was something else entirely. From far away, you could see columns of steam rising from the (lava rock) landscape.

Up close, after a particularly difficult trek, the steam was thick, thick enough that you couldn't see. The wind shiftec and you could see mud. Holes. Mudholes. Water gurgling up in the holes. Small craters forming. Then steam blowing back to obscure the field again.

Parts of Iceland feel like you've driven to the end of the earth. Here, it looked like the primordial ooze that spawned life.

Creatures of the Blue Lagoon

Americans have figured out the benefits of spas and hot tubs. One of the original inspirations for that must have been the Blue Lagoon in Iceland.

We were a little travelworn  when we turned down the lava rock road through yet another lava field. Around a curve we saw rivluets of blue opaque water running over the lava rock.

The parking lot was huge and mostly empty. We paid and changed, then we made our way out to the giant pool.

Wallking to the lagoon is pretty chilly, but that goes away once you step into the 100 degree water. The warmth is soothing by itself, but you can put white silica mud on your skin if the mineral water isn't restorative enough.

We also sampled drinks at the lagoon bar, that's a bar you can go to without getting out of the pool. For a free massage, the lagoon created a waterfall that you can stand under. After two hours in the heated water, I didn't think I had a sore muscle left, until I stood under the waterfall. Now I don't have any.

If we hadn't set a time to leave, I promise you I would still be there, a creature in the blue lagoon.

Trip to the WC

A sidelight of my trips across Europe have been the bathrooms, toilets or water closets. Or WC as they say in the signs.

They cost money, I forgot the ticket that lets me out. Are they all full. How do you lock this door. How do you unlock this door.

One in Reykjavik I couldn't figure out how to open. But one at the tip of the Reykjanes peninsula takes the cake. We were at a tip of land where you can see whales in the summer. I went to the WC before I went out.

The door was a little swollen, but opened with a tug. I couldn't figure out how to lock it, which was a concern only because the wind could blow it open. I let it go, because I had to go.

I went to leave and couldn't get the door open.

I shoved it had and kicked a few times. Nothing.

Pulled on the door and twisted the lock, right then left. Pushed and tried the same thing.

Kicked it again.

Didn't budge.

Stepped back. At least it was warm in here, I thought. Everything in Iceland has the benefit of geothermal heat piped in, even the bathroom hut at the seaweed beach.

Deb looked at the other stall door, gave me advice on which way to force the lock. It didn't work and I shoved the door again. Even tried the kick it in with the sole of my shoe by the lock itself.

They were about to head to the lightkeepers house when finally the lock turned the other way.

At least the others knew not to lock the door.

Jeepless in Iceland

No matter how much research you do on a vacation, there are some thing you never know until you get there.

In this case, that something was the necessity of four-wheel-drive vehicle to get anywhere near a glacier, or even to navigate what are marked as main roads.

We've tried to get to Snaefellsnessjokul glacier, the gladiers near Husafell, and also to lava tubes - underground passages created as lava cools - near Husafell. The coup de grace, though, was turning on the road to Thingvelir and having the pavement end.

We've regouped, or recalculated as GPS man says. We're just south of Reykjavik on the road toward Keflavik. Tomorrow we're going to try the Reykjanes peninsula, which includes the Blue Lagoon.

And see if we can hire a jeep to tour these remote places.

The price of tea in China

Everywhere we go, Icelanders are quick to tell us how worthless their currency is. My skills in multiples of 100 are getting much quicker, but I can't get used to handing over a 5000 kronur bill. Its about $50 and it covers half a tank of gas.

There's two multipliers to contend with. My head match gives me about $8/gallon.

Maybe Abu Dabi isn't such a strange place for my next vacation. Gas could be cheaper.

Five minutes of change

After we passed the crater, we made a turn onto the Snaefellsness Peninsula.

Long in name and natural beauty. You say it something like sny fettle s ness. The scenery was just as unimaginable as that pronunciation.

The twisty roads were something like Highway 1 in California through Big Sur, but the coast was a different kind of rock. Sometimes the Atlantic stretched beneath the pass, sometimes it was a field of lava rock, green with lichen.

A lava field is a unique site. The flow of hot lava doesn't just spread out in a straight line. It leaves boulders that look like they're solid, but made up of hundreds of smaller rocks. In some,  grasses and shrubs are starting to reclaim the land amidst the field of boulders.

Here the field sat at the base of a sheer volcanic mountain, most of it looking like a pile of gravel that could collapse at any minute. A few minutes later, we'd be driving past pasture land with sheep and horses grazing. Then the ocean would return.

We heard that if you don't like the weather in Iceland, wait five minutes. We've experienced that, especially here with the sun, rain, fog and overcast skies. Out here, if you don't like the scenery, you just have to drive five miles.

Eldborg Crater: the story

We weren't far outside of Reykjavik before the scenery completely changed. The mountains got higher. The water flowed more powerfully. The grasses regrowing over the volcanic soil were more wiry and, it being fall, more colorful.

We had wound around a fjord, driven North and made one turn back to the west when we saw a different kind of hill, almost out in the middle of a field. Deb spotted the sign at the end of the secondary road - Eldborg.

We drove down the road and got a better picture of the crater, but Deb wanted to get closer. The guidebook said it was a 40 minute walk  from the road.

The Walk

We eventually found where to park and walk (more on this in another post) and set off for the crater. First we were walking over grass and dirt by a stream. As we turned the corner by a sheep pasture, the ground got more uneven, turning to a thinner path through brush, and then we were walking over a field of volcanic rock.

I went ahead, took some stairs over a barbed wire fence, and started climbing. Gradually at first. The narrow path wound among brightly colored bushes and volcanic rock colored by different minerals, and up. Always up.

I had been going for what seemed like a long time since the fence. My watch said 15 minutes. A ridge in front of the crater came into view. I was worried that I was taking too long, but I made up my mind to get to the ridge.

Once to the ridge, I knew I had to at least try to scale the crater

The Climb

Across a mesa to the base of the crater wall, I could see steps carved into the wall. The face was not quite sheer - the rock is too soft for that. But it was pretty straight up.

The stairs were the easy part. After walking up two fairly stable sets, I looked up and saw what amounted to footholds with posts and chains to guide the way. I slung the Nikon over my shoulder and started up. A foot here, a hand there, stretching, lifting, moving sideways to get a better purchase, up as the rock allowed. A knee on the last rock boosted me to the summit and gave me a glimpse of what was inside.

It took my breath away.

We use a lot of cliches in our language, and overuse most of them. They all have roots in something real, and this moment, sights like this after an effort like that, are it.

The crater was deeper than the hipeight I had hiked. It was rocky, covered in green lichen and the red and yellow flora that marked the path in. It was lush, beautiful, seemingly not of this world, and frightening.

Yes, the wind was brisk still and the edge had no guardrail to keep you from falling into the crater.  I mostly knelt to take pictures, and sat a bit to contemplate the walk back.

It's All Downhill from Here

The walk back was much faster. It took me about 30 minutes to make the steep ascent to the crater, and about the same to wall the whole way back. Maybe it was the wind at my back, or the gradually more forgiving terrain, or the adrenal in coursing through my veins. Whatever the case, I have a feeling it is just a taste of the best Iceland has to offer.

A volcano crater - holy moly!

I really wanted to title this post something else, but as I know my mother is reading...

I hiked to the top of a volcano crater today. Here  it is.

More to come, including what it looked like inside.

Journey to the Center of the Earth and Iceland's west coast

Tomorrow we leave Reykjavik and head into the country. We will check out some waterfalls, rock formations, and fishing villages on our way to the Snaeflnes glacier, where Journey to the Center of the Earth was filmed.

I am really looking forward to witnessing the grand scenery Iceland is famous for. Cameras ready, set, shoot!

Catch up on previous posts at http://robinseuropeanholiday.blogspot.com and see the best of my pictures at http://picasaweb.Google.com/robindeacle/iceland

Before the red

Many people recognize the blue flag of Iceland with its red and white cross.

OK -  many people here may be my brother Scott, who studied the flag entry in the encyclopedia while we were growing up.

Still, this is the present day flag of Iceland, plastered over shelf after shelf of souvenir merchandise. So I was intrigued to see the sky blue flag with a thin white cross on display in the National Museum.

Turns out that this was the first flag of Iceland, flown by many of the fishermen around the turn of the 20th century.

This was also a particularly contentious time in Icelandic history. The country was arguing with the Danish for its right to become van independent nation. The Danes didn't like the blue and white flag, saying it was too much like Greece.

One day a fisherman was out in his boat, flying the blue and white flag. A Danish ship stopped him and confiscated the flag. Word spread all over Reykjavik of the incident, and a plethora of houses immediately began flying the flag.

Iceland got its freedom, but kept the flag with the deeper blue background and fiery cross. Probably a fair compromise.

(Note: the size of the fisherman's boat and Danish ship vary from story to story. Some make it sound like a real David and Goliath moment.)

The real deal: Iceland's National Museum

After yesterday's trip to the national gallery, I was really hoping today's excursion to the national museum was what we expected.

Problem one, the GPS, was solved with some internet research and Lee's sharp eyes (good backseat driving!).

Through the doors and we were met by two friendly and knowledgeable staff, who not only sold us tickets but showed us the layout of the museum.

Score!

The exhibit was broken up into sections of about 200 years of Icelandic history. It started with a discussion of archaelogical dating; why bugs,bones, pollen, and buried rock help confirm anecdotes. The coolest part of this was the 8-foot display of a soil core taken from the countryside. You could see the layers of brown soil with thin and thick layers of black ash. The explainer text at the side showed the years of major volcanic eruptions.

There were dozens upon dozens of iron artifacts, dating from as early as the 1000s. There were three graves recreated in the exhibit, a woman, including a brooch. Near her was a child, and then a man with his horse buried at his feet. The.museum is using teeth from these and other skeletons to determine the real origin of Icelamdic settlers.

You could see the influence of the church, and the impact of Danish rule, which restricted merchant licenses and effectively prevented a middle class from emerging. Iceland didn't really become its own country until the 20th century, though concessions were made in the 19th.  Finally, the natural gifts of heat and water were harnessed to power the country's growth.

I have some favorites, which I will write up and share here.

The National Gallery

Just the title of this post brings images of grandeur to mind.

Just a year ago, I discovered a set of Van Gogh paintings after turning the corner in Britain's version. Italy's in Florence is so busy you can't get a ticket.

Iceland's had similar hype in the travel guides, and a great referral from my friend Kathy who used to live here. And even with a fairly accurate GPS, this treasure was hard to find.

We parked and walked up, to find the entrance way blocked with vehicles. We navigated around them to the door and bought our tickets. We visited the downstairs gallery, and walked to the upstairs rooms. Surely the timeline stenciled on the wall isn't what they meant by cataloging the history of Iceland.

The room at the top had a Warholesque display - a projector showing a film of a semirough sea, half obscured with a blue and white block of color. A clear plastic sculpture encased none lights and periodically emitted sounds like the whales in one of the Star Trek movies. Another box on a pedestal pumped water around.

There were other things, but this just wasn't right. We were worried that we wouldn't have enough time and we finished in 15 minutes.

We came home and rechecked our notes. We were after the national museum, not the national gallery.

We'll try there tomorrow.