there, and back again: Þorsmörk

Saturday, 8:31 18 July, BSI All-Terrain Bus

I've make it back onto the bus after three nights in Þorsmörk, and I'm now riding along the rugged road to Reykjavik. Yesterday, I hiked through the wooded foothills, under the branches of tangled Islandic birch. Sunlight fell through the foliage, supporting a densely growing cornucopia of wildflowers.

By late morning, I had left the forest, and arrived at the banks of one of the glacial streams. Having often been forced to divert my path during yesterday's hike because of these streams, I decided that the time had come to put nature in her place. For the next two hours I worked to construct a bridge out of the stones littering the riverbank. Progress was slow, as for every stone that stuck up above the water, there were 10 - 20 supporting it underneath. Also, because I was carrying rather heavy rocks over it, I insured that the structure was very sturdy. I left the bridge unfinished, but with an inspiring inscription that I am sure will motivate future visitors to continue my work.

Hiking up along where the stream had carved its way through the foothills, I was rewarded with some rather dramatic vertical drops. I tried to maintain a safe distance from the edge, though I suppose this measure is relative. For my mother, for example, a safe distance from the edge of any cliff would be: Nebraska. The only really harrowing part of the hike was crossing the LoD, the Ledge of Death. Though it was easily a meter and a half wide - more than enough room to walk - the edges of the LoD plummeted down the entire length of the 120 meter high cliff face. As an added aggrivant, the cliff faces on either side of the LoD were concave near the top, making the edge more treacherous and taking away any chance a hiker might have of catching themselves if they fall. Still, if you look straight ahead and walk briskly, getting across is no problem.

I spent most of the rest of the day in reasonable (1-2 hour) proximity to the campsite, as the sky threatened rain. When I finally returned, I went into the Visitor's Kitchen, where I opened a large plastic bag full of packages of "Beanfeast!". With the addition of some Oriental noodles, my impromptu dinner, a dish I call Beanfeast on top of Oriental Noodles, is the kind of thing that can only be appetizing after spending the entire day hiking.

This morning I broke camp and loaded my backpack onto the bus before taking a few parting pictures and getting on board. I should be in Reykjavik and reunited with the other half of my luggage sometime after noon, and then I'll finally be able to take a real shower.

Thursday, 21:13 16 July, Þorsmörk Lodge

Today I kissed a glacier. This came at the end of a full day of hiking through the Islandic wilderness and I have to say I'm rather happy to be back at the lodge. After permanently waking up at 5:45, I read Guns of August until breakfast was served at 7:30. After stuffing myself (lunch and dinner are wicked expensive) I smuggled out a ham & cheese sandwich and headed out from the campground. It would take eight and a half hours before I reached the glacier at 17:00, though I pursued numerous diversions and took a nice hour-long nap. I pretty much never nap, so I suppose this was a testament both to how poorly I spelt and how fantastically comfortable Islandic moss is. Above the tree line, the moss can grow as thick as a mattress, and with the sun shining down, it provided an idyllic environment for a snooze.

Making it to the glacier was a little bit tricky I first had to cross the mountain range that separated my valley from the glacier-faced valley. From there it's a three and a half hour hike through glacial flood plain. The walls of the valley soared up around me, jagged and ancient. The surface of the riverbed is studded with loose stone, which can make for rather slow-going, but the trial was absolutely worth it to end right at the face of a glacier. Having run out of water, I collected some in my Camelpak, and though I cannot imagine water any purer than that from a glacial stream, I gave it a stir with my StriPen. This wonderful device uses UV rays to kill harmful bacteria, and after immersing the light into water and stirring for 30 seconds, it's safe to drink. Pretty sweet.

Hikes during the Islandic summer can be extended much longer than usual as there is no danger of losing light before 23:00. I took advantage of this, and did not return to the campsite until 20:30, thoroughly exhausted, yet satisfied with today's accomplishments. I suppose I have another dreadful night's sleep ahead of me, but I'll hope for the best and see what adventures tomorrow brings.

Thursday, 10:00 16 July, on top of a mountain

Technology never ceases to amaze me. While a wireless connection is out of the question, I am able to write this entry on my computer from the top of a mountain in Iceland. "Mountain" may be a bit of an exageration, but the prominence of the peak allows for some rather stunning views of the surrounding landscape.

I met a Swiss couple and Dutch couple hiking with an Islandic guide at the summit. We chatted for a while, exchanged cameras for pictures, and I continued my role as unofficial spokesman for the New Hampshire tourist industry (I think we can expect 4 more visitors in early September).

Last night I discovered that I was woefully unprepaired for how cold it gets in Iceland, even during the summer. Having endeavored to pack as light as possible, I forwent a genuine sleeping bag in favor of a lightweight liner. Bad plan. Anyway, I'm going to have to cut this a little short, because it seems that I'm getting some precipitation. Rain and netbooks don't mix.

Wednesday, 10:18 15 July, Þorsmörk

To pronounce the name of my current location, the "Þ", known in Latin as a "thorn" is pronounced with a "th", the "ö" is pronounced like the "u" in "burn", and the "r" is gently rolled. The first syllable, like all Islandic words, is stressed, almost to the extent that it masks the "k". THORsmurk.

To get to the site of my current location, you have to take a bus for two and a half hours east-south-east of Reykjavik. This drive brings you through the lava fields surrounding the city, past the geothermal plant that supplies Reykjavik with all of its electricity, heat, and of course, hot water, and into the plains. The bus stops ever 30-40 minutes. to pick up or drop of people along the way and it was during one of these stops that I clearly heard the driver turn to a passenger and close a sentence in Islandic with: "long stop". So I figured that I would leave my bags on the bus and amble into the convenience store to see if there were any provisions that I could pick up (I was heavily relying on reports indicating that there was food available at the campsite, and I only brought along 4 Cliff Bars for the 3 nights).

Maybe "leave my bags on the bus" bit, or a general familiarity with my adventures probably helped you to predict that when I left the convenience store, the bus was gone. Shitt (which, I learned last night, is an Islandiscided word used by children as young as 5 as a very minor curse word) I did have the good sense to bring my wallet with me, but I was feeling pretty buggered for a little bit. This is probably what the bus driver wanted me to feel. The honk of a bus horn revealed to me that, rather than having left, the bus has simply moved. What I imagine happed was that the bus was about to leave when one of the passengers pointed out to the driver that the dim-witted American was not onboard. So, spared the difficulty of getting to Þorsmörk and reuniting myself with my luggage, I sheepishly boarded the bus and continued on.

Once we had driven the two and a half hours east-south-east of Reykjavik, we were told to leave the bus and board another. The bus we left was just like any conventional long-haul passenger bus you've ever been on. The bus was got onto was anything but. 3/4 the length of a normal bus, it had double tires nearly twice as large. The frame of the bus was raised, suggesting heavy shocks, and each seat was equipped with a full seatbelt which was "recommended". The need for these modifications did not become apparent as we left the main highway and made a stop at one of the larger glacial waterfalls. The road was not formally paved, but the sturdy gravel made for a smooth ride. It wasn't until our first water crossing that the need for All-Terrain-Busing became apparent. Having no bridge, or Indian guide, driver decided to forgo chalking up the wagon and floating and instead simply forded the river. And the next river, the martian-esque terrain after it, and eight more water crossings after that, including one where we actually drove downstream for a while. It was a bumpy, but beautiful ride. Situated between glaciers held back by jagged mountain ranges, Þorsmörk is a ruggedly majestic valley of ancient rock faces and inviting trails.

I'll be sleeping in my tent for the next 3 nights, but for those of you nervous at my 4 Cliff Bar meal plan, there is a nice lodge that serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner with reasonable culinary mastery and acceptable cost. In fact, as I was coming back from my short hike, a heavy truck was in the process of off-loading a Coke Machine. This is as good a time as any to mention that Islandic Coca-Cola may be the ultimate realization of the world’s favorite soft drink. In addition to using sugar, rather than corn syrup, which makes a huge difference, Islandic Coke is made with Islandic water (among the purest in the world). Coke afectianaados would do well to visit Iceland for this reason alone.

While the placement of the sun in the sky would never give it away, it's getting quite late here, so I'm going to slip into my sleep silks and test out my tent. With any luck I'll soon be falling asleep to the sound of the glacial river making its way out to sea.

Wednesday, 13:35 15 July, Reykjavik Bus Station

I made it to the hostel alright yesterday. After boarding a BSI Bus, I drove slightly more than 50 km (that’s like 35 miles Kevin) over some of the most bizarre land I’ve ever seen. It was like the Hawaiian lava fields, but with grass. The hostel was nice, comfortable, and clean, so no complaints there. I set out to take a look around, but had decided to come back to the hostel to plan the rest of my time in Iceland when I ran into my roommate. No one was in the room when I first moved in, but when I went back to my room I found a wild-haired Australian struggling with his 32 kg. bag. I opened the door for him, and we introduced ourselves. It wasn’t long before he mentioned a lecture at a local bar that he was planning on attending on the Icelandic language I went along, and it ended up being very interesting. Besides the two of us, there was only a German couple with two rather active toddlers and two instructors who went through a very interesting and engaged lecture on Icelandic in the living room-styled section of a bar. Though I left the lecture felling more confident than ever that I would never master the Islandic language, I did have a few handy phrases and a better understanding of Islandic culture.

We looked around Reykjavik for a while before retiring to the hostel. Jet lag is truly bizarre when one finds themselves in an environment of near-constant sunlight. Because I didn’t get much of any sleep on the plane ride over, it wasn’t too difficult to fall asleep, even though it was still bright out at 10:30. The next morning I indulged in the over-expensive Hostel breakfast before meeting up with my Australian roommate to go into town. The weather was fantastic, breezy enough to justify a jacket, but sunny, warm , and crisp. We took some photographs before settling into a outdoor café for some beers and a light lunch. Food in Iceland is expensive, but the collapse of the currency has made things a little more reasonable.

Right now I’m sitting in the BSI bus terminal waiting to catch a bus (of all things!) that will take me east into the interior. I’ve packed to camp out in between two of the glaciers in one of the more adventurous of the natural parks. My bus will be here any minute, so I should get packed up and prepare myself for the three and a half hour journey along the southern coast.