Rocks and Reflections

Experience 19: Cooling eruptions are great for heating fries

After our highly elevated adventure on the Westman Islands, we packed our belongings and journeyed for a last day in the city. While driving to Reykjavik, I held a fixed gaze at the fluctuating landscape, trying to imprint the towering black mountains and flat green fields within my mind. When I previously imagined the Land of Ice and Fire, I pictured bubbling magma colliding with frozen glaciers - the powerful forces of nature intertwined in battle. What I did not factor in was the calmness of the landscape and its people. To say Icelanders are "chill" would not only be a bad pun but completely accurate. There is a mysterious serenity embedded within the landscape. The people of Iceland are pleasant, yet adaptable in a harsh and continually changing climate. After an academically challenging semester, I was fortunate for Iceland's remote locations, which allowed my mind time to enjoy natural peace. 

We had an amazing geologic group that flowed together like a braided streams. After attending the Rocky Mountain May Experience following my freshman year, I felt as though I had come full circle on this trip. I looked at the rising sophomores in our group and had a nostalgic feeling. Years of travel with Furman have given me a new level of independence, only found with experience. Three years seem minor on the geologic time scale, but in my life they have played an impacting role - like a volcanic eruption of adulthood. Returning from Iceland represents the true start of my senior year, and with it come decisions about postgrad moves. Iceland has taught me that major events can happen over a long period of time or simply in an eruptive moment. Most of the time they are out of one's control, like the movement of glaciers across the country. However, sometimes small people can change the course of nature, like the people of Heimaey spraying seawater on flowing magma. What do I take from this? That it is important to live in the moment - to relish senior year but also know that I am in control of what comes next (i.e don't have a freak out just yet). 

One of my favorite aspects of this trip was the flow of our days. I have occupied drastically different experiences in my travel with Furman. In England I attended Shakespearian plays but in Iceland I scaled the side of sea cliffs. I loved learning about geologic formations and then actually witnessing textbook examples. Increased classroom time had left me craving fieldwork. I was so fortunate to be out hiking in removed places, touching glaciers and sticking my hand in steam vents. These actions demonstrate that there is so much of the world and nature to experience. Even though I am a Sustainability major, I believe everything is connected and greatly value the study of geology. Multiple perspectives are immensely necessary for creating a sustainable future. It is also great to have a basic knowledge in Earth's formation. Need to know if that rock demonstrates signs of glaciation or if we can access geothermal energy?? Hit me up!!

Ultimately, I am forever honored work with my Environmental Science department family and I look forward to our future geologic adventures. 

Eldfell and Endings

Day 17 May 28th, 2016 

Experience 17: Surreal Shire

On the 17th day of our journey we traveled to our last hostel before Reykjavik, located in Sudurland. Like most departures this one brought anticipation of the unknown; however, it also represented the near end to our journey. Little did my mind (and calves) know that our last two days would be packed with long hikes and unforgettable adventure. While traveling to Sudurland we made road side field stops. Among these, we stopped at Black Sand Beach. The beach encompasses its title but it also contains impressive columnar jointing that has created enormous hollows within the rock. Growing up on the white Gulf was a stark contrast to this dark coast, but I greatly admired the beauty and ferocity it contained. After posing along the columns, we again loaded up for the hostel and afternoon hike. Our new homestead was located alongside one of Iceland's most impressive waterfalls (although I think that all are enormously impressive). After a long day of bus travel, we were anxious to begin a lengthy hike alongside the waterfall and into the mountains. Iceland's continual daylight is both a blessing and a curse for our group of hikers, as prolonged sun allows for increased periods of discovery but decreased sense of time. We followed the river as it twisted its way throughout the valley. With our heightened elevation compared to the water, we gazed at multiple waterfalls and mountains concealed by a foggy distance. There was a very strong Middle Earth presence in this part of the country. Rocks cushioned by layers of moss made it feels as though we were hiking through the Shire instead of Iceland. Eventually, rumbling stomachs drove us back to civilization and after a fantastic dinner (more fish) we settled in for our most adventurous hike the following day. 

The Shire or Iceland?!

Day 18 May 29th, 2016 

Experience 18: Note to self: use cooling eruptions to heat fries

On the 18th day of our Nordic journey we arose with an early sun for a full day on the Westman Islands. Our destination was the most populated town of Heimaey, which was the site of a 1973 eruption. After a quick stop at another scenic waterfall, we boarded a ferry and took course for Heimaey. Two hikes encompassed our time on the island. The first hike involved scaling up the island's largest sea cliff. To accomplish this feat we had to climb two ladders and use the assistance of a rope over steep surfaces. Ropes and ladders do not meet my fancy and I was greatly out of my comfort zone. However, once at the top amongst the mountain sheep, we had a complete view of the small town and surrounding ocean. It was extremely beautiful and justified our previous exertions. After a quick break involving dipped cones, we set out for a hike on the opposite end of the island. On this hike we climbed the vividly colored lava flow of the 1973 eruption. This eruption was sparked by a fissure opening up along one end of the island. The pouring magma created a new mountain, deemed Eldfell or Mountain of Fire. The eruption had threatened to consume the town and close off its harbor (main source of income); however, townspeople banded together and continuously sprayed seawater on the flow. This aided in the lava's solidification and diversion from the harbor. The top of Eldfell contains an eerie atmosphere. Hot air still seeps between the cooling rock. (We might have stuck a bag of fries in one of the warm crevices). From this vantage point, we could view how the pouring magma had re-shaped the landscape and added 20% landmass to the island. We toured a museum containing houses excavated from layers of thick ash and tephra and ended the day with another quality meal. The ferry took us back to the mainland and thus ended our last day of exploration!!

The dipped cone that revived my soul

The island of Iceland from the ferry

Venturing to Vatnajökull

Day 16 May 27 2016 

Experience 16: Goodbye Glacier

John Muir once said "the natural inherited wilderness in our blood ran true on its glorious course as invincible and unstoppable as stars". I think about that sentence often - it's meaning continually changes with each environment. The entirety of Iceland seems to be wilderness, even developed areas cannot conceal looming mountains and turbulent sea. "As invincible and unstoppable as stars" - but what are stars to Icelanders? The bright nights have made stars absent during our stay in Iceland, and during this time I have realized my fortune in presiding under the clear and continuous stars of the south. I am wondrously curious what the stars look like in Iceland once they reemerge during wintertime darkness. It already feels like the sky and earth threaten to merge with each new fog. I imagine winter stars in Iceland are so close they frame the mountain tops. On Day 16 we had one last lengthy hike into the natural inherited wilderness. Instead of walking beside the glacial outflow, we would be looking down upon Vatanjökull. Since we were still suffering slight post trauma from the whipping winds of Glacier Lagoon, our geologic group went to great lengths of layering. We arose early to eat breakfast, put on about 3 pairs of pants, and load up the Golden Goose for a full day of exploration. Our hike began at the base of Vatnajökullspjodgardur National Park. To great relief, the wind had subsided and we were left with the cool air of increased elevation. For the first time in Iceland, we had actually grown too warm for our layers, and collectively began stripping them until most of us were in short sleeves when we reached our first destination. We stopped for a packed lunch at Svartifoss Waterfall, a waterfall completely encircled by columnar jointing (oddly the top of the columns ran horizontally!?). Our stay was pleasant, but just as we were comfortable in our decreased clothing typical Iceland struck and it began raining. Once again layered, we set out for the Vatanjökull overlook. The continuous drizzle summoned a white fog, which spread silently over the mountains until our group was encircled in a ethereal landscape. CHEERS TO THE FOG. Seriously I have never experienced fog in this manner and I find it mysteriously beautiful. Once at the overlook (i.e. cliff edge), the fog had obscured the glacier and valley bottom, giving the impression that we were floating in security. However, the fog began to dissipate and with it I realized we were practically in the sky and below sprawled out just a portion of the mighty Vatanjökull. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen in my LIFE. The glacier was ridden with enormous cracks. When we were silent, we could hear the rush of water, both from underneath the glacier and the feeding waterfalls, reverberating through the valley. With the cliff crumbly, I was hesitant to step closer but I could not stray away from the overwhelming beauty. Eventually, we had to leave. Our hike down, now clear of fog, put into perspective the elevation we had reached. In this region, the glacier pours itself between and over mountains, spilling out into our realm (ground level). Driving back to the hostel, I had a new perspective on the glacier outflows. My vision was no longer limited to ground level observance. I am now aware of an entirely different world that exists when one stands over the glacier.

In the fog