Book: A Visit to Iceland and the Scandinavian North

M >> Madame Ida Pfeiffer >> A Visit to Iceland and the Scandinavian North




This spring is but little used for the purpose of bathing; at most
perhaps by a few children and peasants. Its medicinal virtues, if
it possesses any, are completely unknown.


THE SULPHUR-SPRINGS AND SULPHUR-MOUNTAINS OF KRISUVIK.


The 4th of June was fixed for my departure. I had only to pack up
some bread and cheese, sugar and coffee, then the horses were
saddled, and at seven o'clock the journey was happily commenced. I
was alone with my guide, who, like the rest of his class, could not
be considered as a very favourable specimen of humanity. He was
very lazy, exceedingly self-interested, and singularly loath to
devote any part of his attention either to me or to the horses,
preferring to concentrate it upon brandy, an article which can
unfortunately be procured throughout the whole country.

I had already seen the district between Reikjavik and Havenfiord at
my first arrival in Iceland. At the present advanced season of the
year it wore a less gloomy aspect: strawberry-plants and violets,--
the former, however, without blossoms, and the latter inodorous,--
were springing up between the blocks of lava, together with
beautiful ferns eight or ten inches high. In spite of the trifling
distance, I noticed, as a rule, that vegetation was here more
luxuriant than at Reikjavik; for at the latter place I had found no
strawberry-plants, and the violets were not yet in blossom. This
difference in the vegetation is, I think, to be ascribed to the high
walls of lava existing in great abundance round Havenfiord; they
protect the tender plants and ferns from the piercing winds. I
noticed that both the grass and the plants before mentioned throve
capitally in the little hollows formed by masses of lava.

A couple of miles beyond Havenfiord I saw the first birch-trees,
which, however, did not exceed two or three feet in height, also
some bilberry-plants. A number of little butterflies, all of one
colour, and, as it seemed to me, of the same species, fluttered
among the shrubs and plants.

The manifold forms and varied outline of the lava-fields present a
remarkable and really a marvellous appearance. Short as this
journey is--for ten hours are amply sufficient for the trip to
Krisuvik,--it presents innumerable features for contemplation. I
could only gaze and wonder. I forgot every thing around me, felt
neither cold nor storm, and let my horse pick his way as slowly as
he chose, so that I had once almost become separated from my guide.

One of the most considerable of the streams of lava lay in a
spacious broad valley. The lava-stream itself, about two miles
long, and of a considerable breadth, traversing the whole of the
plain, seemed to have been called into existence by magic, as there
was no mountain to be seen in the neighbourhood from which it could
have emerged. It appeared to be the covering of an immense crater,
formed, not of separate stones and blocks, but of a single and
slightly porous mass of rock ten or twelve feet thick, broken here
and there by clefts about a foot in breadth.

Another, and a still larger valley, many miles in circumference, was
filled with masses of lava shaped like waves, reminding the beholder
of a petrified sea. From the midst rose a high black mountain,
contrasting beautifully with the surrounding masses of light-grey
lava. At first I supposed the lava must have streamed forth from
this mountain, but soon found that the latter was perfectly smooth
on all sides, and terminated in a sharp peak. The remaining
mountains which shut in the valley were also perfectly closed, and I
looked in vain for any trace of a crater.

We now reached a small lake, and soon afterwards arrived at a larger
one, called Kleinfarvatne. Both were hemmed in by mountains, which
frequently rose abruptly from the waters, leaving no room for the
passage of the horses. We were obliged sometimes to climb the
mountains by fearfully dizzy paths; at others to scramble downwards,
almost clinging to the face of the rock. At some points we were
even compelled to dismount from our horses, and scramble forward on
our hands and knees. In a word, these dangerous points, which
extended over a space of about seven miles, were certainly quite as
bad as any I had encountered in Syria; if any thing, they were even
more formidable.

I was, however, assured that I should have no more such places to
encounter during all my further journeys in Iceland, and this
information quite reconciled me to the roads in this country. For
the rest, the path was generally tolerably safe even during this
tour, which continually led me across fields of lava.

A journey of some eight-and-twenty miles brought us at length into a
friendly valley; clouds of smoke, both small and great, were soon
discovered rising from the surrounding heights, and also from the
valley itself; these were the sulphur-springs and sulphur-mountains.

I could hardly restrain my impatience while we traversed the couple
of miles which separated us from Krisuvik. A few small lakes were
still to be crossed; and at length, at six o'clock in the evening,
we reached our destination.

With the exception of a morsel of bread and cheese, I had eaten
nothing since the morning; still I could not spare time to make
coffee, but at once dismounted, summoned my guide, and commenced my
pilgrimage to the smoking mountains. At the outset our way lay
across swampy places and meadow lands; but soon we had to climb the
mountains themselves, a task rendered extremely difficult by the
elastic, yielding soil, in which every footstep imprinted itself
deeply, suggesting to the traveller the unpleasant possibility of
his sinking through,--a contingency rendered any thing but agreeable
by the neighbourhood of the boiling springs. At length I gained the
summit, and saw around me numerous basins filled with boiling water,
while on all sides, from hill and valley, columns of vapour rose out
of numberless clefts in the rocks. From a cleft in one rock in
particular a mighty column of vapour whirled into the air. On the
windward side I could approach this place very closely. The ground
was only lukewarm in some places, and I could hold my hand for
several moments to the gaps from which steam issued. No trace of a
crater was to be seen. The bubbling and hissing of the steam, added
to the noise of the wind, occasioned such a deafening clamour, that
I was very glad to feel firmer ground beneath my feet, and to leave
the place in haste. It really seemed as if the interior of the
mountain had been a boiling caldron. The prospect from these
mountains is very fine. Numerous valleys and mountains innumerable
offered themselves to my view, and I could even discern the isolated
black rock past which I had ridden five or six hours previously.

I now commenced my descent into the valley; at a few hundred paces
the bubbling and hissing were already inaudible. I supposed that I
had seen every thing worthy of notice; but much that was remarkable
still remained. I particularly noticed a basin some five or six
feet in diameter, filled with boiling mud. This mud has quite the
appearance of fine clay dissolved in water; its colour was a light
grey.

From another basin, hardly two feet in diameter, a mighty column of
steam shot continually into the air with so much force and noise
that I started back half stunned, and could have fancied the vault
of heaven would burst. This basin is situated in a corner of the
valley, closely shut in on three sides by hills. In the
neighbourhood many hot springs gushed forth; but I saw no columns of
water, and my guide assured me that such a phenomenon was never
witnessed here.

There is more danger in passing these spots than even in traversing
the mountains. In spite of the greatest precautions, I frequently
sank in above the ankles, and would then draw back with a start, and
find my foot covered with hot mud. From the place where I had
broken through, steam and hot mud, or boiling water, rose into the
air.

Though my guide, who walked before me, carefully probed the ground
with his stick, he several times sank through half-way to the knee.
These men are, however, so much accustomed to contingencies of this
kind that they take little account of them. My guide would quietly
repair to the next spring and cleanse his clothes from mud. As I
was covered with it to above the ankles, I thought it best to follow
his example.

For excursions like these it is best to come provided with a few
boards, five or six feet in length, with which to cover the most
dangerous places.

At nine o'clock in the evening, but yet in the full glare of the
sun, we arrived at Krisuvik. I now took time to look at this place,
which I found to consist of a small church and a few miserable huts.

I crept into one of these dens; it was so dark that a considerable
time elapsed before I could distinguish objects, the light was only
admitted through a very small aperture. I found in this hut a few
persons who were suffering from the eruption called "lepra," a
disease but too commonly met with in Iceland. Their hands and faces
were completely covered with this eruption; if it spreads over the
whole body the patient languishes slowly away, and is lost without
remedy.

Churches are in this country not only used for purposes of public
worship, but also serve as magazines for provisions, clothes, &c.,
and as inns for travellers. I do not suppose that a parallel
instance of desecration could be met with even among the most
uncivilised nations. I was assured, indeed, that these abuses were
about to be remedied. A reform of this kind ought to have been
carried out long ago; and even now the matter seems to remain an
open point; for wherever I came the church was placed at my disposal
for the night, and every where I found a store of fish, tallow, and
other equally odoriferous substances.

The little chapel at Krisuvik is only twenty-two feet long by ten
broad; on my arrival it was hastily prepared for my reception.
Saddles, ropes, clothes, hats, and other articles which lay
scattered about, were hastily flung into a corner; mattresses and
some nice soft pillows soon appeared, and a very tolerable bed was
prepared for me on a large chest in which the vestments of the
priest, the coverings of the altar, &c., were deposited. I would
willingly have locked myself in, eaten my frugal supper, and
afterwards written a few pages of my diary before retiring to rest;
but this was out of the question. The entire population of the
village turned out to see me, old and young hastened to the church,
and stood round in a circle and gazed at me.

Irksome as this curiosity was, I was obliged to endure it patiently,
for I could not have sent these good people away without seriously
offending them; so I began quietly to unpack my little portmanteau,
and proceeded to boil my coffee over a spirit-lamp. A whispering
consultation immediately began; they seemed particularly struck by
my mode of preparing coffee, and followed every one of my movements
with eager eyes. My frugal meal dispatched, I resolved to try the
patience of my audience, and, taking out my journal, began to write.
For a few minutes they remained quiet, then they began to whisper
one to another, "She writes, she writes," and this was repeated
numberless times. There was no sign of any disposition to depart; I
believe I could have sat there till doomsday, and failed to tire my
audience out. At length, after this scene had lasted a full hour, I
could stand it no longer, and was fain to request my amiable
visitors to retire, as I wished to go to bed.

My sleep that night was none of the sweetest. A certain feeling of
discomfort always attaches to the fact of sleeping in a church
alone, in the midst of a grave-yard. Besides this, on the night in
question such a dreadful storm arose that the wooden walls creaked
and groaned as though their foundations were giving way. The cold
was also rather severe, my thermometer inside the church shewing
only two degrees above zero. I was truly thankful when approaching
day brought with it the welcome hour of departure.


June 5th.

The heavy sleepiness and extreme indolence of an Icelandic guide
render departure before seven o'clock in the morning a thing not to
be thought of. This is, however, of little consequence, as there is
no night in Iceland at this time of year.

Although the distance was materially increased by returning to
Reikjavik by way of Grundivik and Keblevik, I chose this route in
order to pass through the wildest of the inhabited tracts in
Iceland.

The first stage, from Krisuvik to Grundivik, a distance of twelve to
fourteen miles, lay through fields of lava, consisting mostly of
small blocks of stone and fragments, filling the valley so
completely that not a single green spot remained. I here met with
masses of lava which presented an appearance of singular beauty.
They were black mounds, ten or twelve feet in height, piled upon
each other in the most varied forms, their bases covered with a
broad band of whitish-coloured moss, while the tops were broken into
peaks and cones of the most fantastic shapes. These lava-streams
seem to date from a recent period, as the masses are somewhat scaly
and glazed.

Grundivik, a little village of a few wretched cottages, lies like an
oasis in this desert of lava.

My guide wished to remain here, asserting that there was no place
between this and Keblevik where I could pass the night, and that it
would be impossible for our horses, exhausted as they were with
yesterday's march, to carry us to Keblevik that night. The true
reason of this suggestion was that he wished to prolong the journey
for another day.

Luckily I had a good map with me, and by dint of consulting it could
calculate distances with tolerable accuracy; it was also my custom
before starting on a journey to make particular inquiries as to how
I should arrange the daily stages.

So I insisted upon proceeding at once; and soon we were wending our
way through fields of lava towards Stad, a small village six or
seven miles distant from Grundivik.

On the way I noticed a mountain of most singular appearance. In
colour it closely resembled iron; its sides were perfectly smooth
and shining, and streaks of the colour of yellow ochre traversed it
here and there.

Stad is the residence of a priest. Contrary to the assertions of my
guide, I found this place far more cheerful and habitable than
Grundivik. Whilst our horses were resting, the priest paid me a
visit, and conducted me, not, as I anticipated, into his house, but
into the church. Chairs and stools were quickly brought there, and
my host introduced his wife and children to me, after which we
partook of coffee, bread and cheese, &c. On the rail surrounding
the altar hung the clothes of the priest and his family, differing
little in texture and make from those of the peasants.

The priest appeared to be a very intelligent, well-read man. I
could speak the Danish language pretty fluently, and was therefore
able to converse with him on various subjects. On hearing that I
had already been in Palestine, he put a number of questions to me,
from which I could plainly see that he was alike well acquainted
with geography, history, natural science, &c. He accompanied me
several miles on my road, and we chatted away the time very
pleasantly.

The distance between Krisuvik and Keblevik is about forty-two miles.
The road lies through a most dreary landscape, among vast desert
plains, frequently twenty-five to thirty miles in circumference,
entirely divested of all traces of vegetation, and covered
throughout their extreme area by masses of lava--gloomy monuments of
volcanic agency. And yet here, at the very heart of the
subterranean fire, I saw only a single mountain, the summit of which
had fallen in, and presented the appearance of a crater. The rest
were all completely closed, terminating sometimes in a beautiful
round top, and sometimes in sharp peaks; in other instances they
formed long narrow chains.

Who can tell whence these all-destroying masses of lava have poured
forth, or how many hundred years they have lain in these petrified
valleys?

Keblevik lies on the sea-coast; but the harbour is insecure, so that
ships remain here at anchor only so long as is absolutely necessary;
there are frequently only two or three ships in the harbour.

A few wooden houses, two of which belong to Herr Knudson, and some
peasants' cottages, are the only buildings in this little village.
I was hospitably received, and rested from the toils of the day at
the house of Herr Siverson, Herr Knudson's manager.

On the following day (June 6th) I had a long ride to Reikjavik,
thirty-six good miles, mostly through fields of lava.

The whole tract of country from Grundivik almost to Havenfiord is
called "The lava-fields of Reikianes."

Tired and almost benumbed with cold, I arrived in the evening at
Reikjavik, with no other wish than to retire to rest as fast as
possible.

In these three days I had ridden 114 miles, besides enduring much
from cold, storms, and rain. To my great surprise, the roads had
generally been good; there were, however, many places highly
dangerous and difficult.

But what mattered these fatigues, forgotten, as they were, after a
single night's rest? What were they in comparison to the unutterably
beautiful and marvellous phenomena of the north, which will remain
ever present to my imagination so long as memory shall be spared me?

The distances of this excursion were: From Reikjavik to Krisuvik,
37 miles; from Krisuvik to Keblevik, 39 miles; from Keblevik to
Reikjavik, 38 miles: total, 114 miles.



CHAPTER V



As the weather continued fine, I wished to lose no time in
continuing my wanderings. I had next to make a tour of some 560
miles; it was therefore necessary that I should take an extra horse,
partly that it might carry my few packages, consisting of a pillow,
some rye-bread, cheese, coffee, and sugar, but chiefly that I might
be enabled to change horses every day, as one horse would not have
been equal to the fatigue of so long a journey.

My former guide could not accompany me on my present journey, as he
was unacquainted with most of the roads. My kind protectors, Herr
Knudson and Herr Bernhoft, were obliging enough to provide another
guide for me; a difficult task, as it is a rare occurrence to find
an Icelander who understands the Danish language, and who happens to
be sober when his services are required. At length a peasant was
found who suited our purpose; but he considered two florins per diem
too little pay, so I was obliged to give an additional zwanziger.
On the other hand, it was arranged that the guide should also take
two horses, in order that he might change every day.

The 16th of June was fixed for the commencement of our journey.
From the very first day my guide did not shew himself in an amiable
point of view. On the morning of our departure his saddle had to be
patched together, and instead of coming with two horses, he appeared
with only one. He certainly promised to buy a second when we should
have proceeded some miles, adding that it would be cheaper to buy
one at a little distance from the "capital." I at once suspected
this was merely an excuse of the guide's, and that he wished thereby
to avoid having the care of four horses. The event proved I was
right; not a single horse could be found that suited, and so my poor
little animal had to carry the guide's baggage in addition to my
own.

Loading the pack-horses is a business of some difficulty, and is
conducted in the following manner: sundry large pieces of dried
turf are laid upon the horse's back, but not fastened; over these is
buckled a round piece of wood, furnished with two or three pegs. To
these pegs the chests and packages are suspended. If the weight is
not quite equally balanced, it is necessary to stop and repack
frequently, for the whole load at once gets askew.

The trunks used in this country are massively constructed of wood,
covered with a rough hide, and strengthened on all sides with nails,
as though they were intended to last an eternity. The poor horses
have a considerable weight to bear in empty boxes alone, so that
very little real luggage can be taken. The weight which a horse has
to carry during a long journey should never exceed 150lbs.

It is impossible to remember how many times our baggage had to be
repacked during a day's journey. The great pieces of turf would
never stay in their places, and every moment something was wrong.
Nothing less than a miracle, however, can prevail on an Icelander to
depart from his regular routine. His ancestors packed in such and
such a manner, and so he must pack also. {35}

We had a journey of above forty miles before us the first day, and
yet, on account of the damaged saddle, we could not start before
eight o'clock in the morning.

The first twelve or fourteen miles of our journey lay through the
great valley in which Reikjavik is situated; the valley contains
many low hills, some of which we had to climb. Several rivers,
chief among which was the Laxselv, opposed our progress, but at this
season of the year they could be crossed on horseback without
danger. Nearly all the valleys through which we passed to-day were
covered with lava, but nevertheless offered many beautiful spots.

Many of the hills we passed seemed to me to be extinct volcanoes;
the whole upper portion was covered with colossal slabs of lava, as
though the crater had been choked up with them. Lava of the same
description and colour, but in smaller pieces, lay strewed around.

For the first twelve or fourteen miles the sea is visible from the
brow of every successive hill. The country is also pretty generally
inhabited; but afterwards a distance of nearly thirty miles is
passed, on which there is not a human habitation. The traveller
journeys from one valley into another, and in the midst of these
hill-girt deserts sees a single small hut, erected for the
convenience of those who, in the winter, cannot accomplish the long
distance in one day, and must take up their quarters for the night
in the valley. No one must, however, rashly hope to find here a
human being in the shape of a host. The little house is quite
uninhabited, and consists only of a single apartment with four naked
walls. The visitor must depend on the accommodation he carries with
him.

The plains through which we travelled to-day were covered throughout
with one and the same kind of lava. It occurs in masses, and also
in smaller stones, is not very porous, of a light grey colour, and
mixed, in many instances, with sand or earth.

Some miles from Thingvalla we entered a valley, the soil of which is
fine, but nevertheless only sparingly covered with grass, and full
of little acclivities, mostly clothed with delicate moss. I have no
doubt that the indolence of the inhabitants alone prevents them from
materially improving many a piece of ground. The worst soil is that
in the neighbourhood of Reikjavik; yet there we see many a garden,
and many a piece of meadow-land, wrung, as it were, from the barren
earth by labour and pains. Why should not the same thing be done
here--the more so as nature has already accomplished the preliminary
work?

Thingvalla, our resting-place for to-night, is situated on a lake of
the same name, and only becomes visible when the traveller is close
upon it. The lake is rather considerable, being almost three miles
in length, and at some parts certainly more than two miles in
breadth; it contains two small islands,--Sandey and Nesey.

My whole attention was still riveted by the lake and its naked and
gloomy circle of mountains, when suddenly, as if by magic, I found
myself standing on the brink of a chasm, into which I could scarcely
look without a shudder; involuntarily I thought of Weber's
Freyschutz and the "Wolf's Hollow." {36}

The scene is the more startling from the circumstance that the
traveller approaching Thingvalla in a certain direction sees only
the plains beyond this chasm, and has no idea of its existence. It
was a fissure some five or six fathoms broad, but several hundred
feet in depth; and we were forced to descend by a small, steep,
dangerous path, across large fragments of lava. Colossal blocks of
stone, threatening the unhappy wanderer with death and destruction,
hang loosely, in the form of pyramids and of broken columns, from
the lofty walls of lava, which encircle the whole long ravine in the
form of a gallery. Speechless, and in anxious suspense, we descend
a part of this chasm, hardly daring to look up, much less to give
utterance to a single sound, lest the vibration should bring down
one of these avalanches of stone, to the terrific force of which the
rocky fragments scattered around bear ample testimony. The
distinctness with which echo repeats the softest sound and the
lightest footfall is truly wonderful.

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