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 

Walking in a Windy Wonderland

Days 13-14, May 24-26

Experience 14: landscape 

The days following my musical bus fame, we ventured to local towns and studied more craters. We were fortunate to gain a tour of Sólheimar on the 24th, before we departed the following day. While leaving the community and it's wonderful accommodations was equally saddening, increased rain and wind made me fortunate for a dry bus and hours to sleepily gaze at the ever changing landscape. Our next hostel destination, Vagnsstadir, was surprisingly even more remotely located. The drive to this new region represented another complete change in scenery. One of my favorite parts of travel is staring out the window, lost in thought by the continually changing landscape. Iceland's geography is mesmerizing. It is difficult to find continually within the different regions of the country. Mountainous landscapes gradually fade away to be replaced by wide, flat regions, only to spring up again massive amongst the vast flatness. My favorite areas are comprised of ancient magma flows where thickly soft moss has flourished. The moss's effect results in each rock resembling soap spilling out of the holes in a sponge. Our weather has continually fluctuated - snow, wind, sun, fog - sometimes all at once. During our journey to the coastal Vagnsstadir, I was captivated by the foggy envelopment swirling around the Golden Goose. Enormous outcrops and ridges remained partially concealed by the stagnant mist, giving them a very eerie dimension. I was transfixed by this dichotomy between a concealed landscape and the enticement to explore. Eventually the mist parted and the rain lessened enough for us to find our hostel. I am writing this post from a cozy common room with an Icelandic midnight keeping my mind awake but my body tired. Beyond the window I can spot the sea. Originally I was unaware the ocean was so close because of the fog. Without a group member pointing this out, the sea would just be another grey cloud blending into the pale blue sky. As full of emotion as fog can be, I am ready for some sunshine!! Hoping for warmth tomorrow. 

Day 15 May 26

Experience 15: Glacial Greetings II

So no warmth - only howling winds that have grown in great intensity. Winds encircled our small sleeping cottage, giving it a very Little House on the Prairie vibe. We emerged early this morning and were slightly more punctual than most days. Today was the day we visited GLACIER LAGOON (not to be confused with Blue Lagoon). Glacier Lagoon is located in a glacial outcrop plain, where miniature icebergs break from the glacier and flow out to sea. Vatanjökull is the second glacier we have visited and the largest found outside of Antartica. It's massive form is large enough to submerge neighboring mountains and its runoff is a bright crystal blue color. The theme of today was layering. The winds at Vatanjökull were the strongest I have ever felt. Perhaps if I had stayed away from the Icelandic cookies the wind would have been able to lift me from the ground. Despite the mental image, you can visualize the strong conditions we were facing. We again were fortunate to spot grey seals zipping through the water, comfortable in the freezing temperatures. With wind whipping my face, I eventually grew numb to the adversity and only focused on what I was seeing - Glaciers, Icebergs, the roaring North Atlantic, and playful seals. I often think about the drastically different environments I have occupied and each time think it could make a great cover story in Nat Geo (still dreaming). Presently, I was staring into electric blue water the farthest north I might ever traveled and struggling to take in all the sensations. My emotional capacity is not large enough for Iceland. 

Our professors were giddy with wonder at the looming glacier miles away and continued to hike towards the monstrosity. With the wind at our backs, the hike was only moderately strenuous. Eventually we realized there was no hope of touching the glacier unless we wished to make our visit to the lagoon overnight. After a group photo, we turned around to hike back to the Golden Goose. MISTAKE. The wind on the way back was straight lined and whirling with northern fury. We were immediately facing a struggle. It felt like we were preparing for war over Middle Earth. Despite this blustery battle the glacier exploration was completely rewarding. Our evening back at the hostel has been quiet, as we recover from the wind and contemplate the few days we have left together and on this prehistoric island. 

Glacial Lagoon from a bridge 

Whale Watching

Day 10 May 21 

Experience 11: Animal Planet will you hire me?

The pace of our trip has been as rapidly fluctuating as the weather. Since landing outside of Reykjavik our group has buzzed with higher energy than the geothermal plant. I have never been both so energized and exhausted at the same time. On the morning of May 21, we were facing our last day in the harborside hostel and given the choice between two hikes. The first group would accompany Dr. Ranson on a hike aiming to reach the valley top, while the second hike would accompany Dr. Suresh on a coastal hike with the goal of spotting whales and exploring the edges of the fjords. Sensing that my body needed one elevation for the day and hoping to see my first wild whale, I quickly joined team Suresh. Three others shared my opinion and together with Suresh we formed the Whale Crew. Whale Crew departed from the hostel the same time as the masses and chanted our new whale song as we left them for the coast. Our hike and the adventure that followed ended up being one of my favorite days (glacier day continually looms as the best day). Within minutes of walking we spotted grey seals playing next to the shoreline. A collective freak out commenced and our squeals alerted the seals that overly eager Americans were present. The seals ceased their merriment and bopped like buoys watching us watching them. We continued walking - there were whales to find. Holding our pair of binoculars, I took it upon myself to frequently stop and majestically scan the horizon. The job was a serious one. I strained my eyes as if I was looking for the New World instead of a whale tail. Eventually we grew too restless for the road and jumped down into the boulder- lined shore. This began a series of "sea monster" finds by our fearless leader Suresh. We found multiple fish heads with gruesome dispositions and dreamed up what could possibly have eaten such a gnarly set of fish bodies. What else besides seals swam in that fjord!?

We journeyed on, leaping over slippery rocks, eyes set on the horizon, until we arrived at the Golden Beach. The beach indeed had golden sand, a very out of place feature amongst the volcanic shoreline. The beach wrapped around the fjord, it's shimmering sand presenting a stark contrast against the ancient dark rock. Like basically everything in Iceland, the beach contained a mystical element. Large flat rocks jutted out from the golden sand and wore 50 shades of bright green algae and seaweed. The openness and beauty of the area turned the rest of our walk into a straight FROLIC. We eventually settled down into a ravine for lunch (necessary to block the crisp coastal wind). After recharging, Whale Crew decided it was time to head back into town. We had already passed the last town and did not want to worry the Other Crew with our prolonged absence. On our walk back, my desperation for a whale sighting heightened and I found myself fervently hoping each scan of the horizon would result in a puff of water and a majestic whale leaping towards us. As we soon approached our town border, it seemed my wishes were not strong enough to wield a whale. We paused for a selfie in front of the town sign when I searched the water for a last time... AND THERE IT WAS 

YES

THATS RIGHT

a dolphin! Which is still pretty amazing readers. 

It's like a mini whale right? Cue another group scream.

Sensing our desperation for wildlife, the dolphin jovially followed us back into town. Once back harborside, Suresh took Nat Geo worthy photos of the happy little poroiouse while the remainder of the Whale Crew went to celebrate. Our meandering along the coast reminded me to seek the beauty in the simplistic. Not everyday has to be on a glacier or mountaintop to still be valuable. I find that when I go off the map and create my own path with good people by my side, the universe might just send in a dolphin. 

Dr. Suresh carrying the technology 

Day 11 May 22 

Experience 12: FIFA TIME

On the 11th day of our journey we left the fjords to depart for the opposite end of the country. We would soon be replacing winding cliff side roads for straight paved pathways and pastoral land. Leaving behind each hostel thus far has been difficult, but I found a fleeting sadness in leaving the rare sunshine and puffin habitats that characterize the fjords. However, every breeze in Iceland enticingly whispers of far off lands waiting to be explored. We listened to them. Early that morning we loaded up the Golden Goose and departed for Sólheimar Eco-Village. This community, nestled between agriculture lands and removed from any major development, aims at intentional living. It began as Iceland's first community for mentally disabled children. As the children grew, more people began to develop the community focusing on partnerships towards equal opportunity. We stayed in a guesthouse designed as a retreat for those suffering from cancer. Everything in this center was extremely beautiful and calming - we felt well nurtured in this new homestead. Needing to stretch our legs after a full day of bus travel, our group eagerly explored a soccer field bordering our residence. With a fiery sunset fueling our energy, we began a game of pickup that reverted me back into a competitive athlete. Our game drew attention as one of the community volunteers, a German girl named Anna, asked to join the team. Together we all played until collective endurance was exasperated (and I scored one last goal). Anna and members of the geologic group slowly departed while Phoebe laid in the grass and I continued to practice poor juggling skills. 

Day 12 May 23

Experience 13: Loving the rain and the sights 

Our 12th day was packed with geologic activity. The soccer game left my body feeling as though I was hit by a glacier, but one English tea later and I was ready to explore new territory. Our first destination was called Pingvilla, where the junction of the tectonic plates is more clearly visible than anywhere else in the world. Imagine walking between two plates - one side the North American plate the other the Eurasian plate. CRAZY STUFF. Changing weather swirled around us and I donned my rain pants to increase the group's fashionable appearance. After strolling in the void between two continents, we reloaded the Goose and drove towards Gullfoss as rain began to conceal the landscape. Gullfoss is the sight of a waterfall said to be more impressive in beauty and power than Niagara Falls. Despite the cold rain, the waterfall was extremely beautiful. In desperate need of replenishment, we had quite a lovely lunch in the welcome center. I almost melted with British joy to have a toastie accompanied by tea (all hail the Queen?). Afterwards we visited a geyser that seems to explode with the waters of hell every 5 minutes (watch out Old Faithful you have been challenged). Following the geyser we once again VISITED A HOT SPRING. Shout out to Iceland and its culture of warm pools and leisure swimming. After these numerous stops, we decided to dine out at a local restaurant. The excitement of the day combined with my British references and exploding geysers gave me a tidal wave of energy on the bus ride back to Sólheimar. Before I really knew what was happening, Adele's Hello began to play while I simultaneously gave a live performance on the bus aisle. This single performance erupted into a series of sing a longs that transformed a sleepy post dinner ride into quality music video (hoping the videos on Dr. Suresh's phone will not be posted.)

A few members of whale crew

Pyroclastic Puffins

Day 7 May 18th & Day 8 May 19th & Day 9 May 20th

Hello it's me

Experience 10: interactions with the Wild Puffin 

On day 7 of our journey two monumental things happened - we left Grundarfjördur and I took over the Furman snap story. It seems I took over the snap story on the one day we were road tripping for 7 hours, which meant no surprise hiking and no glaciers. HOWEVER the entire island is one giant scenic view, so I doubt the witnesses of Furman's snap story were too displeased (hopefully... I've been waiting to gain social media control for years). I was slightly nostalgic to leave Elf Habitat, my home for a solid 3 nights, but we had to embark from Grundarfjördur to reach the Western Fjords for the next chapter in our journey. For those like me who are not as well versed in geologic terms, a fjord is a glacial valley filled with water. Next time you are frolicking in your local valley, check and see if the valley contains a U or V shape. V shape valleys are caused by river erosion, while U shape valleys are the products of glaciers. BAM YOUVE BEEN GEOLOSIZED. 

Looking at the Western Fjords from a puffin's eye view, one can notice that they are a series of indentions amongst the ancient coast where ocean water has silently seeped itself inland. Driving through the fjords is best visualized as making giant S patterns along the coast. The Golden Goose would march along the dirt road as my headphones canceled out the noise of wind threatening to carry us back to the US. In this area of the country, tiny houses speckle the landscape and most are built into the land resulting in communities that contain an essence of the Shire. During these 3 days we visited waterfalls and attempted swimming in road-side hot springs. However my favorite activity during this time period was our visit to Latrabjarg, home of The Puffin. 

The surreal cliffs of Latraberg contain Iceland's largest puffin colony. Stacked in a similar manner to Moher, the cliffs are 14 kilometers long with an area of 3.5 square kilometers and contain 10 species of seabirds resulting in a population of 1 million. A dangerous element is added as puffin burrows and erosional forces have caused the cliff edges to be highly insecure. All signs warn of strong wind blasts which can be "dangerous and unforeseen". 

We had numerous bird spottings - the small puff balls dotted the cliff edges and were content having their picture taken. I really enjoyed the personality of puffins. While other seabirds were continually squawking and zipping along the rock face, the puffin remained quietly perched in the sun, observing all the madness below. Since the edge of the cliff was so crumbly, I had to crawl and remain flat to get a picture. After a number of photos, I put my camera away and decided to bask in the sun alongside the puffin. I think this proved more enjoyable for both of us. 

After the this adventure, we traveled to a local town for an even more local dinner. In Patreksfjördur, our professors found a restaurant called Heimsendi which was willing to serve our large geologic group after they restocked on supplies. Restocking meant the owner made a quick run down to the market for purchase of fresh Halibut, caught the day before in the harbor. Most of us had the halibut. Definitely one of my favorite meals in my 21 years. 

Full of good food and good company, we made our way back to our hostel and settled in for a night of blogging, journaling, and puffin dreaming. 

Glacier Greetings!

Day 4 May 14th, 2016

Experience 7: Geologic Time Scale of Irony

Day four began with an earlier departure from Reykjavik as we headed into northern country. Leaving Reykjavik brought upon a new flow to the trip. Our geologic group traded in city streets for singular highways and museum tours for mountain travel. As a Sustainability Science major, I have a firm understanding of Earth functions; however I have not taken advanced courses in Earth and Environmental Sciences. Even though some of the terminology needs further explanation, I continue to have a fascination with geologic process, especially the perspective of geologists. On their time scale, human existence seems so minuscule compared to various life forms. ("Recent" is defined as 10,000 years.) Sustainability aims to link different systems together, demonstrating the interconnectivity and interdependence of these systems. After we departed Reykjavik, our first field stop was at Borgonous water tower. Standing on this tower, I had a complete view of the land, which seemed to unfold beneath me in ripples as if I was a pebble thrown into a pond. Through this experience, I have learned to view this rippling land under a different perspective. I see how my existence is very small in comparison to the ancient petrified lava flows swirling around the tower. I have learned to see the land as a giant puzzle and find continuity in features miles apart. Humans are such small creatures, yet we contain the power and wisdom to discern elements that date us by millions of years. The irony. After note taking and hand lens action at Borgonous, we practically leaped back into the warmth emanating from the Golden Egg. The Egg continued to roll its way north, eventually stopping a few miles away from Eldbory Crater (how Middle Earth does that sound?). Our professors informed the Crater Cohort that we would eventually find ourselves at the top of the crater after hiking to its base. We immediately started layering, bracing ourselves for the windy crater top. My outfit resulted in the human equivalent of a fluffy potato, however the the warmth and element protection it offered made my fashion freak out subside. After a quick lunch of field sandwiches and a photo session with nearby Icelandic horses (regular horses but smaller and fluffier so imagine that cuteness), we packed up and journeyed through scrubland for the crater. Deep purple shrubs and thick blankets of moss enveloped the small dirt trail leading to the crater. At times, I am vaguely reminded of English moors, and I immediately flash back to my fall study abroad in the UK. I have found that certain aspects of the landscape leak over into different countries, taking different forms but evoking the same feeling to their beholder. By the time we reached the crater's base, we had all shed the wintery layers we so valued in the beginning. At the top of the crater, I was immediately thrown on the thin border of two different worlds. On one side was the vast expanse of shrubland we had just hiked through, while the other side was a quick descent into the hollowed remains of a once powerful volcano. (At one point I did ask if the crater was possibly caused by outer space interference but was quickly corrected). If the water tower in Borgonus was a pebble in the pond, then the top of Eldbory was a boulder in the ocean. All around me rippled out the vast expanse of Iceland - from sea to mountains. The entire landscape was a puzzle filled with answers and new possibilities. Why did the purple shrub only occupy one area? What type of flow descended down from the ancient eruption? Can someone explain magnetic declination to me one more time? As the increased crater top wind made us retreat back into our layers, I hypnotically stared at the two worlds. I was on a crater!!... The first day of field geology was off to a great start. 

Icelandic horse

Phoebe taking in the rock

The hike to Eldbory

Top of the crater

 Day 5 May 16, 2016

Experience 8: Glacier Greetings

The fifth day of our journey... almost indescribable but I will describe it!

We arrived in our new town called Grundarfjördur (for pronunciation please seek local Icelander). The small coastal town laid tucked between snow-topped mountains. The Golden Egg seemed overpowering on the narrow streets; however, we eventually wound our way to our new hostel home. This new dwelling, indeed a converted home, was solely occupied by our group. Each room had a romantic name mirroring the landscape - like northern lights room and ocean room. The universe sought it appropriate to place me in none other than the Elf Room. Actually, the true name was lost in translation between the receptionist and our professors. Apparently the name really means ground or perhaps earth. Despite our blunt name in comparison with the other rooms, the ladies of the elf habitat and I created a special bond in our special name. Long live Elf Habitat. 

Elf room was just the start of my favorite day thus far. The next morning we traveled a few towns over to replenish groceries. The Golden Egg seemed more rickety than usual. When we finally pulled into the grocery store parking lot, it was evident our egg had cracked. Our beloved bus had experienced maintenance complications and was unfortunately in the middle of the parking lot. To roll the Egg out obstruction, our geologic groups exited the vehicle and gave an old fashioned push. We actually managed to move the Egg several feet into safety. After another lunch of fried food assortment (the norm thus far in Iceland), our group gaped out the window at our new form of transportation. A replacement bus had rolled into the lot and it's color and structure indicated it was a heaven sent doubled Golden Egg! Henceforth it shall be know as the Golden Goose!!

The Goose carried us to several field stops where we examined hot springs and played with fluffy Icelandic dogs (everything is fluffy in Iceland). The momentum of the day all led up to our glacier exploration. The Goose swerved off road and carried our geologic group TO THE GLACIER. Actually, we were still miles away. Before attempting to explore the glacier, we had to layer up and board a post-army vehicle capable of gripping the surface. The new bus carried us upwards into a snowy world. A small black dot on the upper horizon was our destination - the ice cave entrance. The truck crunched on in a methodical pace, unwavering against the tipping winds. Eventually the black dot materialized as an entrance. We leaped out of the van like sheep free to roam. Everyone whipped out their cameras and began jumping around in the icey thick snow. Cold air rushing through one's lungs has a mystical quality of exhilaration. Kristina, another partner in geologic crime, and I wore our hair in pigtails and donned traditional Icelandic wool sweaters. We were ready to descend into the ice. Traveling into the long tunnel of wood and steel support beams was yet again like discovering a new world. The ice cave is a man made structure, as glaciers do not produce caves since they are in constant motion. Once we fully descended into the tunneled ice, our guide provided us with strap on metal ice grippers for our shoes. We walked along the tunnels, lit by LED lights placed within the ice that added an ethereal dimension. We continued trekking until we reached a series of rooms, created for events (party in the glacier!?). After reaching a small chapel the entire group set amongst the wooden pew benches and our tour guide talked about global warming. Our group needed no persuasion on the effects of climate change, and at the end of his talk we applauded his devotion to the topic. Any global warming deniers should visit Iceland. The temperature here is continually increasing and men who work in the ice see this best. They live by the environment. Iceland's firm usage of geothermal energy and recycling is admirable. 

We stayed in the ice cave for quite a while - I lost track of time in that frozen environment. The further we trekked, the colder it became. When we had circled back to the entrance, my frozen nose and I were relieved to see light pouring in from the small tunnel. Fellow explorers Phoebe, Kristina, Whitney and I  had an adrenaline rush and ran towards the entrance. Exiting the ice cave and once again feeling the wind felt like a return to my world. (Even though my actual world consists of southern pines and pollen, not glaciers). I can not quite articulate the feeling of standing on a glacier and staring into a vast expanse of mountains and ice highlighted by an 8 pm sunset. I'm not sure exactly what I felt. The feeling of complete freedom hit me so hard I had to run around to keep it at bay. There are certain places I have traveled to where I find that feeling, the feeling of adventure and spirit - a ladder in Mesa Verde, a cliff in Balylifin Ireland, and now a glacier in Iceland. No matter where you end up going, whether in your hometown or foreign country, I hope you find your glacier also. 

Fluffy dog!!

Army bus

Icelandic women on the glacier!!

---

In the Ice Cave

View once we left the ice cave

 
 

Day 6 May 17, 2016:

Experience 9: sneaky hiking

Our last day in Grundarfjördur began as a quiet one. The glacial excitement had caused us to return to our hostel sometime after midnight, so we were quite tired. After some breakfast tea, we boarded the Golden Goose for a quick trip up road to see a SHARK MUSUEM. When I found out there was a shark MUSUEM, I almost lost control of all movement and behavior. I find sharks so fascinating, but if you know me you probably already know my weird obsession. My excitement somewhat ceased when I learned the museum was strictly dedicated to shark meat production... a popular delicacy here in Iceland unfortunately. The place we visited is the largest producer of shark meat in Iceland. This very, very small family business uses about 60 sharks per year. The sharks are all by-catches that fishermen catch in their nets and sale to the family. However, I still was not pleased. The shark they use in production is the Greenland Shark, a very gentle species. Last time I watched Animal Planet, they reported little was known about the Greenland shark. I think it should be researched more before it is hacked to pieces. Following the museum, we quickly found lunch to wipe away the shark meat taste (I did try a sample and was not very satisfied). The remainder of the evening was supposed to consist of either solo exploring of the town or an easy hike. The entire group decided on the hike. We took off towards the mountains bordering Grundarfjördur, walking easily on its gentle rolling foothills. After about a 40 minutes, we arrived at our destination of waterfalls from mountain meltwater. The group took to snowball throwing, sliding, and chilling. One or two might have fallen in the stream... However we eventually all found a comfortable place to exist. I realized that part of the group had journeyed upwards, scaling part of the mountain and disappearing from view. Thinking they were just getting an aerial perspective and drastically underestimating the true distance between us, I took off towards the group. Hundreds of feet later I found myself very out of breath very high and very alone. After a brief questioning of my life choices and an unanswered yohoo into the valley, I fortunately saw Phoebe's little head bopping above me. We finally connected and I continued the climb towards her. The bravest of the geologic group had decided to scale half the mountain, so phoebe and I summoned our strength and scaled after them (which was actually phoebe giving me water while I wheezed). A series of yohoos greets us as we joined the mountain top group. Suddenly, I was surrounded by an unobstructed view of the entire valley, the town of Grundarfjördur just a dot amongst the blue sea. 

Without even realizing what I was embarking on, I had climbed a mountain that day. 

Start of the hike, we would eventually find ourselves halfway up those mountains.