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.
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.
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