Part 10

On approaching the volcano as closely as the heated lava would allow, I found it to consist of a cluster of black mounds, describing together an irregular cone, from the centre of which, and probably towards the termination of the spring-eruption, a large crater had been formed, apparently little more than half-a-mile in circumference; its northern wall had now evidently been broken down, while from the centre rose the conical walls of the crater then erupting. There was a breach also in the north side, from which the lava poured at intervals, while numerous cracks in the walls of the cone caused the glow from the intense burning within to shine through with such brilliancy as to give the summit the appearance of being wrapped in flames. As I intently examined this, two smaller craters became suddenly visible, one in the north base of the erupting mound and the other some little distance further north, in the lava itself. Both these were burning with a brilliant white light, and emitted a rending, crushing sound, although erupting with little violence. From these two craters the principal lava streams were advancing with considerable rapidity, encircling from time to time patches of ancient lava and sand which formed the plain, and finally overwhelming them in its fiery embrace. As night closed in, the heated lava and the noxious gases arising from it prevented me from getting nearer than within a few hundred yards of the volcano, so I lit my pipe at the nearest lava _coulée_ and returned to camp. There again, while sitting by my tent, upon a high bank of volcanic sand, I gazed for a long time upon the mighty fountains of volcanic fire, which in one continuous stream assailed the sky with a glorious display of natural pyrotechnics. All through the dark hours of the night the volcano burned and roared, followed by explosion after explosion, which shook the desolate waste around to its very foundation. When I rose at midnight to take another look at this grand and terrible spectacle, it was still energetically erupting with a grandeur the equal of which I may never have another opportunity of witnessing; for the grim sands and lava fields of the Mývatns Örœfí were bathed in an unwonted light which reddened the lurid sky and deepened the shadows amongst the weird crags of lava, rendering them still more unearthly in that fire-blasted wilderness in the midst of which we were encamped. The wind still blew freely from the north-west, from which quarter, fortunately, it had been blowing all the evening, so that I was enabled to reach a neck of land almost encircled with lava within about two hundred yards of the crater which was erupting. From this coign _d’avantage_ I was able to examine minutely the progress of the eruption; but the heat was very great even at this distance, while my field glass shewed me that the fiery column seemed to be made up of myriads of molten atoms. The whole scene was, in fact, utterly indescribable, yet I could not but reflect how meagre and insignificant was even that glorious display in comparison with those mighty fires which have been occasionally let loose from such mountains as the Vatna and Skaptar Jökulls, and how terrible! how utterly unapproachable must have been their outburst! Yes, that is the unsatisfactory part about them; when they are in full working order there is no getting near them, and at other times one can only climb, shudder and freeze over their temporary tombs.

However, nothing daunted, at 6 A.M. I started to examine the line of smoking mounds which marked the course of the great fissure or gjá (chasm). As mentioned before, this fissure was formed in the early spring, and re-opened on the 15th August, 1875, to give vent to the volcanic fires which have rifted and contorted the surrounding plain. The erupting mound had grown about 50 or 60 feet in the night, but the eruption itself, as I saw it, was evidently upon the wane. The next cluster of mounds towards the south contained three craters, but the largest was covered with whitish yellow sublimations, probably sulphur and sal-ammoniac. This was tranquilly steaming and had evidently not been disturbed during the recent outburst; in fact, all along the fissure there occurred mounds at intervals, and some were smoking violently, while many other smaller lateral cracks and fissures were likewise smoking, but not to the same extent. These fissures, I noticed, were entirely environed with hot lava, apparently of recent production, and a depression in some places of 50 feet in depth had sunk around them, varying from two to about four miles in breadth, while numerous deep chasms crevassed the adjacent plain. They were mostly parallel to the principal line of disturbance, and as they approached the depression they increased in size and depth, while those in close proximity to it ran into one another where the ground was upheaved by a general chaotic dislocation. The whole line of smoking fissures appeared to me to have erupted lava both during the spring and at the eruption in August; the fissures terminated in a series of cracks, the edges of which were in many places covered with sublimations of sulphur and sal-ammoniac.

Aided by a strong north-westerly wind, which had fortunately been blowing throughout my visit to this remarkable spot, and a strong pair of leather boots, I succeeded at one point in traversing the still hot lava, till I reached the principal fissure about half-a-mile from its southern termination. In many places I found it was four or five feet wide, in some places choked with solid lava; and in others gaping widely open, but at some points it was spanned with cinders and lava, encrusted with various sublimations, which showed that there had been no recent outburst in that particular spot. In some places, however, similar accumulations had been scattered around by the recent disturbances, in fragments so variously encrusted that at first sight I was led to suppose the fissure had cast out great quantities of party-coloured cinders; at all events, at all points where the eruption had been particularly violent circles of cinders and clinkers had formed varying from one or two to many feet in height, bridging over the fissure and forming conical mounds wherever the outburst had continued for any lengthened period. This struck me as being rather remarkable, as I should almost have expected to find the clinkers, etc., piled up in banks upon each side of the fissure, instead of assuming, as they did, such regular shapes, often at right-angles with the fissures producing them; but where the fissure was not blocked up it steamed violently, emitting nauseous smells and making hoarse choking sounds. Its depth I could not ascertain, as the emanations which arose from the lava I was standing upon compelled me to beat a hasty retreat, and indeed they made me feel dizzy for the remainder of the day. This gjá is situated in the Mývatns Örœfí, in a line parallel with Lake Mývatn, at the height of a little less than 1000 feet above sea level; its direction is N.N.E. to S.S.W. The length of the fissure is about twelve English miles, and from it has issued a lava stream of about fourteen English miles in length and perhaps three-and-a-half broad upon an average, though it is much narrower at some points than at others, especially towards its southern extremity. This recent lava, both of the spring and autumn, had flowed over the ancient lava and sand, rendering so large a portion of the Mývatns Örœfí a useless desert; while it had particularly overflowed an ancient lava stream, produced by a vent in the west portion of the Mývatns Örœfí, called Svínagjá. The new lava appeared to differ from the old only in this respect, viz., that the ancient lava contained olivine, which the closest microscopic examination failed to discover in the more recent production. I also found that no pumice had been ejected from this fissure up to last August; lava, stones, cinders and ashes only having been thrown up. This spot may be regarded as the northern centre of recent volcanic activity, and the Öskjugjá as the southern, both occurring in the same rectilinear bearing, N.N.E. and S.S.W., and so coinciding with the great fissure which it has been presumed bisects the island from N.E. to S.W.

Carefully taking the bearings of the neighbouring mountains from the south end of the fissure, I made two or three dashes over the hot lava to look into the grim jaws of a chasm which had been erupting with especial violence, where the various heights of the conical mounds gauged the violence and the extent of the eruption; but a very short distance farther north the heated lava became too broad to permit of such excursions with any degree of safety, so I ascended some elevated ground to the west, in order to obtain a bird’s-eye view of the seat of eruption.

This fissure, as I have before said, extends through a recently-formed depression, in the direction N.N.E. to S.S.W., extending from about one mile north of the road from Grímstaðir to Reikjahlíð to a point bearing Jörundr 19° N., Búrfell 349° N.W. It had erupted in seven places with great violence, and had formed there conical hills, containing several craters. After inspecting these, I turned my back upon the line of steaming vents, having seen all that could be seen, and I was well contented with my little expedition. After a while we reached our horses by a short cut over the ancient lava, which had flowed partly from the Svínagjá and partly from the Mývatn hills, then returning to Grœnavatn, and proceeded thence to Stóruvellir the next day.

We left Stóruvellir amid a heavy gale and were accompanied by the farmer as far as Halldórstaðir where the priest, who spoke a little English, would not hear of our leaving without partaking of coffee, chocolate, or schnapps. We took leave here of the bóndi of Stóruvellir, who had treated us hospitably and had charged very moderately.

Leaving here we next made our way to Mýri, where lived an old man whose father was the first to cross the Sprengisandr, in 1810, as the south of Iceland previously had been always reached by crossing the Stórisandr. This old man was pleased to see me, and gladly gave me an account of the road, written by his father, to guide future travellers, and my informant I found was eighty-three years of age. Before leaving my new acquaintance I purchased a spoon of him said to be fifty years old. This was quite an ingenious novelty, for when unscrewed it divided into fifteen different pieces; I also bought a wooden roller which used to serve the purpose of a mangle a few centuries back, and a rude representation of the crucifixion in needlework upon green wadmal (Icelandic homespun cloth), which the old man told me had been worked by the nuns of an Icelandic convent long, long ago,--he could not say how long, but he knew that the banner was “eld gamalt” (very old). He also informed me that when he first went to Reykjavík for stock-fish no ships came to the north of Iceland, and that in Reykjavík coffee and sugar cost five marks (about 1_s._ 10½_d._) per pound, while they could only obtain fifteen skillings (3½_d._) per pound for their wool. The present price of these commodities, I may remark, is--coffee, three marks (1_s._ 1½_d._), sugar, thirty-two to thirty-four skillings (6_d._ to 8_d._) per pound--while they are now able to sell their wool at 1_s._ 1½_d._ per pound.

I sent Paul and Olgi on with the baggage while I, accompanied by the old man’s son, went a little out of the way to visit the waterfall of Alderjufoss, where the river Skjálfandifljót pours into a rift in an ancient lava stream, about forty-five feet deep. This sight is well worth going out of the way to see, as it is a much finer fall than the Godafoss.

The most remarkable feature about these falls, however, is the wall of rock over which they descend, the bottom of the wall being composed of perpendicular basaltic columns, overlaid by a compact basaltic lava of a very crystalline nature, while the columns themselves are of a compact stony basaltic lava, but in neither of the specimens I broke off could I find a single crystal. I am, however, inclined to think that both lavas are of identical composition, and of contemporaneous production.

Having satisfied my curiosity here I left the Alderjufoss behind, and rode quickly after Paul and Olgi, overtaking them not far from the lake of Ísholtsvatn, from whence a short ride brought us to the farm of Ísholt, which was inhabited by a bachelor brother and his three sisters. Here we enjoyed a good supper of char and potatoes (for the latter were now of an edible size), and a good night’s rest, preparatory to our journey across the Sprengisandr.

Although there are no fish in the Skjálfandifljót, there are plenty in Ísholtsvatn and the Fiskiá, which flows out of it into the Skjálfandifljót. I suppose this is on account of the turbid nature of the water in the latter, which is purely a glacial stream.

After resting a while here I left Ísholt in company with the farmer, and commenced our journey southwards, there being at the time a severe storm of wind from the N.W., bearing with it clouds of sand. On our way we paid a visit to the brother of the old man of Mýri, from whom I obtained some more curiosities in the shape of ancient spoons, one of which, like the other, could be separated into fifteen different pieces, and an old Prayer-book, printed at Hólar in 1742. This man lived at the farm of Mjófidalr (narrow valley) and had the reputation of being a good herb doctor. I found him pleased to see us, and before we left he treated us to a compound of schnapps and angelica root which was very refreshing. A fierce gale was blowing at the time from the S.W., and the sand was intolerable, even penetrating through the gauze of our snow spectacles, and almost blinding us; while at times the sand storm was so heavy that we were unable to see one another even when within touching distance. Our poor horses felt it very much, the eyes of some being completely closed up, so that when we reached to the grass hills to the north of Kiðagil, we were compelled to halt and bathe their eyes with water. As the road here lay over a series of stony hills, grown over in many places with moss and scanty grass, the dust became less troublesome, and therefore we were glad to alight in the evening at the song-famed Kiðagil (goats’ valley). The last grass to be found upon the north side of the Sprengisandr is in this valley, and it takes several hours’ hard riding before the next grass is reached.

This valley is fertilized by the river Kiðagilsá which runs through it, and empties itself into the Skjálfandifljót at this spot. The weather cleared beautifully in the evening, so I climbed to the summit of Kiðagilshnukur, which commands an extensive view towards the snowy heights of Arnarfells, the Tungufells, and the white slopes of the Vatna Jökull, with their black cones and buttresses protruding through the snow. To the N.E. stretched the country to the north of the Vatna Jökull, with the well-remembered mountains which I had traversed with so much interest, and the desert plains over which I had trudged for many a weary hour, sore-footed and tired. The wind had sunk to rest with the sun, and the serrated outline of the Dyngjufjöll grew darker and darker, beneath the heavy canopy of smoke which still hovered over them, while the neighbouring mountains grew more indistinct and shadowy as the light faded from the west.

My tent had been pitched in the valley below, the autumn nights had now commenced, and the fitful gleam of the aurora told me my summer work was almost ended. On looking around upon those old familiar scenes--it might be for the last time--my emotion was so great that my tongue, in its endeavours to give audible expression to the sentiments that filled my breast, exclaimed with all the enthusiasm my nature was capable of, “Farewell, farewell, dear old Northernland! I came to your rugged and barren shores an enthusiastic traveller, anxious and resolved to seek out the wonderful things hidden in your frozen casket; and having enjoyed your simple and honest hospitalities and gratified my ambitious curiosity, I must now bid you adieu, bearing with me an affectionate remembrance of your craters and geysers, your mountains of eternal snow, and, above all, of the kind and faithful services rendered me by your hardy and generous sons and daughters.”

Having relieved my emotion by this crude expression of my feelings, I took one more fond look and then turned in to rest for the night, feeling amid my regret at leaving old Iceland, something akin to an inward pride, to think that although so humble a member of the Alpine Club, I had been enabled to accomplish so much, and that, too, notwithstanding the doubts of my friends, and the opinion of Mr. Forbes, who seems to have formed very erroneous notions as to the Vatna Jökull, or of the determination and endurance a member of the Alpine Club is capable of if once he sets his mind upon exploring a mountain.

To return to my narrative. Soon after day-break my men and I were again astir and in our saddles; but I was sorry to perceive that the weather had changed for the worst, which was a serious thing for us, seeing that we had a long, bad road before us, as well as a tiring journey to perform under various difficulties, enough to daunt the sturdiest of us. To add to our misery the clouds above were black as ravens’ wings, and a fierce wind blew in such piercing gushes that we could scarcely stand against them, as they came bursting on straight into our very teeth. As I shuddered beneath the blast, I consoled myself with the thought that such a parting with Iceland was, after all, quite characteristic; and soon one poetic notion after another took such possession of me that by the time I had got thoroughly awake I began to find myself growing quite warm with excitement, and of course less sensible to the real severities of the storm. True to his kindly nature, and well sustaining the character of his countrymen, my old friend the bóndi of Ísholt resolved to see me part of the way on my journey; and although unwilling to trouble him, I must certainly acknowledge the extreme pleasure this trifling act of courtesy and kindness afforded me. And when at last the hour arrived for us to separate, we shook each other heartily by the hand, and cheered ourselves in a parting cup which drained the last of my schnapps. “God speed” having been expressed on both sides, I resolutely turned my back upon the fascination of the distant mountains, and faced the driving storm of wind and sand to thread my way southward.

Our route at first lay over a series of low terraced hills, and presently a wet tedious ride brought us to a cluster of small stone cairns, round which were collected a number of horses’ bones, not a very cheering sight to our own animals, and they seemed rather shy of the ghastly remains of their ill-fated brethren.

While looking on this sad sight, Paul told me it was often the custom to write a verse, and leave it in a bone upon such a mound as this for the next traveller, and, accordingly, I wished to do so too, but could not find one suitable, and so we felt ourselves relieved from the responsibility of keeping up the “old custom.” It would have been all the same, however, if we had desired to do so, for the cheerless prospect of fog and rain, with the apparently boundless Sprengisandr around us, varied only by an occasional glimpse of some snowy Jökull, would have been sufficient to freeze the most gushing of poetical ideas.

Wishing to quit this spot without delay, we determined upon taking the route known as the Arnarfells-vegr upon the west bank of the Thjórsá rather than follow the track upon the east, as by doing so we should be able to cross the numerous smaller rivers whose confluent waters form the Thjórsá, one by one, instead of having to wait perhaps a day or so, until the waters of the Thjórsá should be sufficiently low to enable us to ford them.

In the course of our journey we passed between Arnarfells Jökull and Tungufells Jökull, and thence bearing to the west, we got as close to the former as possible in order that we might cross these smaller arms at their source. Some of these arms, I imagine, must be very difficult in warm weather, for even upon this cold and stormy day they were in many places over our horses’ girths.

Arnarfell, upon the N.E., rises from a band of glaciers, from which steep slopes of snow sweep up to the black peaks of Arnarfell-hið-Mikla which must be of considerable altitude, a little more than a Danish mile away from the termination of the glacier. The nature of the ground we were traversing precluded the possibility of quick riding, hence it took us five hours more to reach Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, which was to be our destination for the night. This elevation is a cluster of eminences formed of agglomerate, which has been weathered into peaks of considerable height, and these are traversed by several dykes and intruded masses of basaltic lava. Here we found a good patch of grass and angelica, extending along the sides of Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, as well as along the banks of the river washing its eastern base.

Our arrival at this part disturbed a bevy of swans, which at this season of the year (August) lose the feathers of their wings, of course preventing their flight. Taking advantage of this, chase was immediately given, and four of their number very soon captured.

I am glad to say the next morning showed us a more cheery prospect, for a stiff breeze blew from the N.W., and although the clouds hung upon the mountains, the sun occasionally broke through, encouraging us to put some of our wet things out to dry. While this was being done I ascended the Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, and was well repaid for my trouble, for the clouds were lifting from the adjacent mountains, which gave me a peep at the Vatna Jökull, as well as the more western hills, over the broad plain lying between it and the Arnarfells Jökull. The Sprengisandr is here cut up by a network of rivers and streams, which upon our side of the Sprengisandr all flowed into the Thjórsá. We now pursued our way with a bright sun shining upon us; the ground was in most places covered with swampy moss, which was much better travelling than the stones of the preceding day. Many streams with quicksands had to be crossed, whose waters were all the deeper for the fine weather we were enjoying. Turning thence directly southwards we struck the main stream of the Thjórsá. Travellers to the south who take the eastern route generally cross this stream at this point, but they are sometimes detained for days in consequence of freshets, which may occur at any season of the year; therefore the west side of the Thjórsá, though a little longer, is found to be much the surer road. Here we saw a number of sheep grazing upon the opposite bank, belonging to farmers in the south; and as may be well imagined, we hailed their appearance as the first sign of the “Suðurland” we were approaching.

After a short enjoyable halt here, we continued our journey to a point between the rivers Kisá and Miklilœkr, where we encamped. On continuing our journey, an uninteresting ride over an undulating and gradually descending moor, which in fine weather commands a good view of Hekla, brought us to an ancient lava stream which had flowed from the Rauðu Kambar, an old volcano lying to the west of the road, and here again we found ourselves amongst lava, pumice and black sand.