An Island Week

In March of 2019, my Environmental Economics class went to Reykjavík for nine-ish days. I wrote about the environment and climate change issues in a previous post. Now, for what really went down. (The cool stuff, at least.)

After a bus ride up to Chicago---and a quick five hour flight---we landed in Reykjavík early. Like 6:00am early. We grabbed our bags and stood around waiting for our driver. He materialized eventually. I got coffee.

Outside, a soft sunrise and a sulphuric smell (more like eggs than anything) greeted us. We bundled into the bus and headed towards the city. The sun steadily crept higher, illuminating the coastline as we drove. We were lucky to have good weather all week.

At the hostel, we hopped out onto a sidewalk covered in black dirt that kept my footprint as my boots landed. I had packed lightly, and swung a backpack onto each shoulder before heading inside. Cooking meals there would save us a bunch of money.

Check-in wasn't for a few hours (okay, like six hours), which gave us a chance to explore. We split up and started walking. First: coffee. Again.

That first day we were able to see a museum, a bakery, the city center, a few cafes, and Hallgrímskirkja, the largest church and one of the largest buildings in Iceland. You could go to the top, but we saved our money for beer and food.

Bunking up four to a room, later that day, I got to know my roommates. We agreed to put our beers outside on the window sill to keep cold.

Sunday

After coffee, we met our guide for the week and jumped into the van. We were headed east to Þhingvellir, or Thingvellir, where Iceland's most prominent parliament--the first in the world--met in 930 AD. Here, the Law Speaker presided the gathered people to proclaim the law. It's supposedly a sacred place, but tourists thronged all around us so I'm not sure anymore.

More interesting, it happens to be the place where the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates meet (or don't meet?). Here, every year, land is added to Iceland as the plates move further apart. It's a remarkable geographic landmark that creates a rift valley that you can walk through. If you can keep up with your tourist group.

Once there, though, I forgot about the geography. I cared more about the view.

From there, a quick stop at the geyser Haukadalur. "Geysir and Strokkur are a couple of erupting hot springs, or geysers, in the Haukadalur geothermal field, north of Iceland’s Laugarvatn Lake," writes Atlas Obscura. "The bigger of the two is Geysir... but he’s been a little shy about his star power recently, only spouting off sporadically."

If it's on Atlas Obscura, you know it's legit.

The water bubbled and hissed before shooting up high into the air, spraying people on the southern side as it came down. After watching it twice I got the gist.

After that we bussed over to Gullfoss, a world-renowned waterfall (In English, that's "Golden Falls"). The falls are home to the Hvitá River, which is a glacier river that's fed by the glacier, Langjökull (double L sounds like "T").

It might be best known for being the contentious site of a potential power plant. OZY writes:

The churning wonder drops about 105 feet at a couple of levels within a rocky, otherworldly canyon before it unleashes a mesmerizing cloud of mist. But some speculators once saw something else here: a golden opportunity to tap the power of Gullfoss for energy.

Instead of letting that happen, a local farmer's daughter Sigríður Tómasdóttir decided to fight back. As legend has it, she walked 75 miles (one way) a day for years in order to be involved in the case. She and her lawyer (who would become Iceland's first president), fought in court against the rental agreement that had been drawn up.

Although they lost the case, the plant wasn't constructed. She became Iceland's first environmentalist. Some of the guys kissed her statue at the falls.

The day was cold (honestly they all were) and overcast. The wind whipped our jackets and brought the spray from the falls up to us on land. We took some photos.

Last stop for the day: Kerið, a crater lake in Iceland's Western Volcanic Zone. I can't prove it but I think our trip itinerary was built from Atlas Obscura's website:

In Iceland, you can’t just have a stunning lake. No, it also has to be inside of a volcanic caldera. And sometimes that’s not even enough, so the showiest country in the world provides something like Kerid Crater Lake, which is a nearly neon blue lake sitting in a volcano surrounded by rare red volcanic rock.

Wikipedia says the depth is about 7 - 14m deep but I didn't test it. Instead, we walked around the rim. It was so windy I was sure the small guy in our group (sorry, Brandon) was definitely gonna get blown in. I think we got a group photo. Then time for coffee.

When we got back, we had beers in the hostel and talked about the day.

Monday

We left early for a hike of Sólheimajökull, the southwestern outlet (or "finger") of an unbelievably large glacier, Mýrdalsjökull. I can't pronounce that one either.

Mýrdalsjökull's peak reaches 1,493m in height and covers an area of roughly 595 km². In contrast, Sólheimajökull is about 8 km long and 1-2 km wide. Still big enough to blow my mind.

The views on the hike are pretty surreal. But it's hard to forget about how much Sólheimajökull has shrunk: 2018 marked the first year of +100m of shrinkage. That's climate change for you. More than a photo opportunity and a good time, it was a reality check.

In fact, the runoff lagoon at the base of Sólheimajökull has almost doubled in size over the last few years. There may even be a need for a boat to continue the kind of tours that are currently run. The more the glacier melts, the more the lagoon grows.

The hike took up most of the day but we managed to stop at Skógafoss on our way to the tiny, fishing town of Vík, on the island's south coast. I needed coffee.

A rainbow stood proudly like an arched entrance to the inlet that housed the falls. At its base, a heavy spray covered tourists who dared get close for a photo. The ground was black. Much of the dirt in Iceland comes from volcanic activity, this stuff included.

As we climbed the rickety flight of stairs up the side of the falls, a white mountaintop stuck out from behind the rolling hills that fed Skógafoss. All over the area, tourists thronged.

Since the 2008 financial crisis hit Iceland, tourism has emerged as an economic driver that sustains much of the country. Most of it is eco-tourism that thrives on tours and guides. Land in Iceland is privately owned (mostly) but there are agreements to let people visit landmarks like these. There aren't any entrance fees.

That night, after making it to Vík, we set off in search of the Northern Lights. We hiked uphill for ten minutes or so from our hostel, trying to leave behind even the few lights left on in the small downtown. It was too cloudy.

We decided to lay on our backs in a field and watch the mountains surrounding our valley do nothing. Everyone was told to shut up.

That night we drank the cheapest Icelandic vodka we could find, which was absolutely terrible. We tried to mix it with the beer we'd bought and that didn't help, either. (Apparently there are "green" vodkas in Iceland, a luxury way beyond our budgets. I don't think anybody tried the good stuff. I'd never even considered the tasting notes of vodka.)

Tuesday

Vík is a unique town, even as far as unique Icelandic towns go. It has a super old church. Badass. Offshore rock formations, black pebble beach and basalt columns. Badass-er. People get swept into the water by rogue waves. Badass-est.

The black beach, Reynisfjara, is the most famous of its kind in Iceland. In 1991, National Geographic voted it one of the Top 10 (non-tropical, naturally) beaches to visit. I'd never been to a beach in my winter boots.

We scattered across the beach, dodging rogue waves in our effort to touch the ethereal basalt columns that formed a cave. Above, birds screeched and swooped low before resettling in their cliffside nests. In the distance, Westman Islands loomed large, supporting the volcano, Eldfell ("Hill of Fire"), which last erupted in 1973.

From The Atlantic magazine:

44 years ago, on January 23, 1973, a previously-unknown fissure in the Earth beneath the small Icelandic island of Heimaey opened up less than a mile from the town of Vestmannaeyjar... The newly-formed Eldfell volcano erupted for about six months, covering much of Vestmannaeyjar in ash, destroying several hundred homes, and sending lava flows toward the harbor

I got another coffee in the cafe before we headed back to the bus.

Throughout the trip, especially at outdoor places like the beach, we got fascinating lessons in natural history, geography, and biology from our guide Ingi. Without a guide (a good one), our experience would have been completely different, and lacking.

One of the most interesting revelations I had while there: Reynisfjara = Eastwatch By The Sea, a location featured in season seven of Game of Thrones. As I recently learned, there is extensive work done by amazing people who identify GOT locations in Iceland.

(I figured there were some filming locations, but was surprised at how many. Many are--unsurprisingly--places north of the Wall. If that means nothing to you, please start watching ASAP.)

More recently, I read a book by U.K. geography professor Alastair Bonnett called Unruly Places. In it, he talks about the strange (and unruly) places around the world that he studies and visits. I'm surprised Iceland didn't feature in the book. "Unruly" is a great word for much of what we saw in the natural world on the island. The same could be said for a number of people we met, in a good way.

Wednesday

The main highlight of Wednesday was Reykjadalur and thermal river bathing.

We took the long way in, our guide preferring to show us the path less traveled. We attached our hiking spikes and checked our towels.

After a short walk, we stood on an outcrop with the sun behind us that overlooked a deep valley covered in snow. Somewhere down below we were supposed to get half-naked and let our eye lashes collect frost while we relaxed in a river heated naturally by geothermal energy.

As we stood on the ridge and looked out over the valley, sulphur-smelling clouds of steam billowed up. We went to investigate. The same geothermal heat that warmed the river was steaming up here. Great clouds of steam rose all around us and mud bubbled at the base.

As we arrived, having made it down into the valley, we hustled to get undressed and into our shorts. The cold was almost unbearable. In the water, my body was sweating but my eyelids collected frost.

On the way out, the wind whipped my cold face and chapped lips without mercy. My wet towel froze and my eyes watered.

As we hiked back to the van, I pulled my eyes up from the loose, red rocks beneath my feet to take in the cliffs and billowing clouds of geothermal steam as they rose just beyond the edge of the trail.

I wanted to take in the scene one more time before we went over the ridge, trying to savor the moment despite the intense cold.

Thursday

Whale watching. Although whaling is still prevalent in Iceland, watching these amazing mammals is far more popular.

Whale watching has also, in the wake of the 2008 crisis, become a large player in the eco-tourism industry that emerged. People come from all over to see the whales that grace the waters just outside the harbor of Reykjavík. (Dolphins and a variety of birds are also regular visitors.)

We bundled up in winter gear and sat on the deck of the Andrea, playing cards and blowing on our hands while we sailed out of the harbor and passed snowy peaks in search of whales.

We weren’t disappointed; it didn’t take long to find a humpback. She was a young calf, smaller than I had seen in the warmer waters off the coast of South Africa. To her advantage, though, she was blowing water in front of a stunning backdrop: the mountains and glaciers that surrounded the bay, just beyond the calm, blue waters where she swam.

She was the only whale we saw, and, before long, we were headed back to shore.

Friday

No (tourist) trip to Reykjavík is complete without a trip to Blue Lagoon, a spa in a lava field near Grindavík. Some say it's one of the twenty-five wonders of the world. The only place I read that was their website.

It is neat, but a more reading (thanks, Wikipedia) will reveal that the spa "is supplied by water used in the nearby Svartsengi geothermal power station." In other words: it's industrial waste. They're really good at marketing. Basically, the plant uses hot water to generate its power. When it's too cool for industrial use, it gets pumped out. The waste water's still hot enough to feel like a hot tub.

We showered and hurried out of the wind and into the water. I looked down, trying to see my hands under the water. The water was pale and cloudy, stark against the cooled lava mounds that surround the perimeter. We got our free silica masks and picked up our free drinks (which we mostly chugged in hopes of warming up). Maybe the beers offset the benefits of the masks because nobody's skin felt revived after, just dried out.

As we paddled around looking for the warmest spots it started snowing. Our ears were freezing, our bodies were warm. That happened more than I expected on this trip. We opted to huddle in front of a bridge, trying to stay as low in the water as possible.

Eventually, we got tired and thirsty. I wanted coffee. I rinsed off--after running inside--and headed to the cafe to wait for the others. On the way out, our professor bumped into people she knew from Crawfordsville, a city of 15,000, like it was no big deal. They were shopping in the gift store.

That night, a few of us headed back to our favorite bar in town, Prikid. It doubled as a restaurant/cafe and had a bomb fish burger. We wanted to see more of the nightlife before heading home. I had a (few) Viking Lager(s).

We met Årni, a local DJ, a Latvian bouncer, and several business men who sold produce to supermarkets (I think). Of course, one was from South Africa. We talked about gatsby sandwiches and surfing in Iceland. He grew up about twenty minutes from where I lived.

Around 3am we got our last cab of the trip and headed home. We needed to pack.

* * *

Admittedly, there were several interesting meetings and other places I passed over here. We met with representatives from an eco-engineering consulting firm, the National Energy Cluster, a geothermal power plant, and a company that converts carbon into stone.

It was a trip about environmental economics, undoubtedly, but there was so much more to see. There always is.