Getting around this island country was an adventure in itself. We had a Volkswagen Polo as our trusty steed. Manual. Which means TJ drove. And, brilliantly maneuvered across the variety of road surfaces that exist in Iceland. The Ring Road encircles the entire island. And it is paved. At least the sections we were on. But, straying away from the Ring Road is where road adventures begin. Most interior roads are called F-Roads. Rental cars are not allowed on F-Roads. We did not travel on F-Roads. But, we did drive on a lot of roads that were unpaved to varying degrees. Narrow. Occasionally steep. Usually with no guardrails. Like the road shown below. The posted speed limit was always much higher than what we felt could be driven given the conditions. But, not for the locals.
In Iceland, there were two things that stood out in the pockets of civilization. Restored churches and land-dwelling ships. There were churches everywhere...and anywhere. Many were situated adjacent to a homestead in the middle of pasture land. Sometimes with no means of access except to drive up to the adjacent house and park in the their driveway. We did not do this. Instead, we looked for the signposts indicating a church and access. As such, we did not visit a lot of churches. Most churches look like they were just built. Wood, stone and cement. Painted white with colorful roof and trim accents (usually red); though some churches were black. It turns out that many have been restored by the descendants of those who built or maintained the church (back in the day). Picturesque. Maybe that is the point.
As for the ships. Was this how [coastal] communities displayed their connection to the sea? Were the ships simply out of commission after years of sailing service? Had they all been blown ashore in big storms? Probably the truth resides in equal parts. Regardless, it was still kind of unique to see a ship moored on dry land. Smaller boats had been placed in playgrounds. A connection to the sea for young and old alike.
Water surrounds Iceland. And water flows out of Iceland. Water, water, everywhere. Falling. Thundering down to the sea. A land of waterfalls. Some were grand, like Gullfoss waterfalls.
Others were smaller (relatively speaking - note person in photo for scale). You could walk right up to them. And, in the case of Seljalandsfoss waterfalls (below), you could walk behind them.
Iceland is a land between two continents. It sits atop the Mid-Atlantic Ridge where the North American and Eurasian plates are spreading apart. As such, it was born of volcanoes. Everywhere there is evidence of current and past geo-dynamic activity. Some violent, some beautiful, some both. TJ and I ventured to a couple of geothermal areas, mainly in South/Southwest Iceland. In one town, you could walk right up to the boiling mud. This was as close as I wanted to get. Still, it made me a bit nervous.
At another, we walked past warning barriers and into an unstable steam field. After a strong earthquake in late May, the activity shifted across an access road. We walked in and surveyed the spread of escaping steam. TJ walked out onto a lookout and boardwalk that had been closed for obvious reasons. Luckily, he only came away with dirty hands.
Other terrain in Iceland is a bit more benign. Lots of old and new lava flows. During the cooling of thick lava flows, fracturing can lead to the formation of hexagonal columns. Known as columnar basalt, these formation are found throughout Iceland. Sometimes, just the tops of the formation are exposed.
In a guidebook, we found some interesting statistics. Iceland comprises a land surface of about 100,000 square kilometers. Of this, glaciers represent 12 percent and pasture land another 24 percent. But, according to this source, the majority of Iceland (65%) is referred to as wasteland. At first, we thought that was a bit of a misnomer. But as we drove high above the fjords or across the moss-covered lava fields, we realized that wasteland was an apt description for this alien landscape.
In South Iceland, the Ring Road cuts through kilometers of coarse black grit surrounded by nothing but an occasional [large] boulder. This is glacial debris deposited by catastrophic floods when Katla, the volcano underneath Myrdalsjokull Glacier, erupted and melted the glacier. Katla has erupted 16 times in historical times; the last time in 1918. Driving on this flat black plane our thoughts turned to disaster scenarios. What would happen if Katla erupted while we were driving? Where would we go? Would/could we survive? We identified a high promontory on the coast that might offer safety. We were only here for a vacation, the farms and houses around us live with this doomsday scenario every day.
This mixture of fire and ice is what makes Iceland unique. But, with the fire, you likely want it small and contained. A hot springs or geyser will do. A violent, erupting volcano. No thank you, please. Yes, ice. Flowing ice. Melting ice. Sometimes, just eating ice. Here I am enjoying some ice that is likely over 1000 years old. Yes, in a sense, I am contributing to global warming. But, it was oh-so-enjoyable.
The highlight of the trip was seeing icebergs lying on a beach. Now, technically, I am not sure if they are still considered icebergs if not floating in water? But that's beside the point. Look at the colors. Look at the size. There was clear ice and coarse granular ice and snow cone ice. There was white ice, blue ice and black ice.
There were small icebergs and large, bigger than TJ, icebergs. It was a landscape like no other I had ever seen. And that is a lasting memory I wish to share with you.
I have posted more photos from our trip on Picasa here. Enjoy!
All photos shown on this post and on the Picasa link were taken with my new digital point and shoot camera. It is a Canon Powershot SD1100 IS in Bohemian Brown and I really like it.
In Iceland, there were two things that stood out in the pockets of civilization. Restored churches and land-dwelling ships. There were churches everywhere...and anywhere. Many were situated adjacent to a homestead in the middle of pasture land. Sometimes with no means of access except to drive up to the adjacent house and park in the their driveway. We did not do this. Instead, we looked for the signposts indicating a church and access. As such, we did not visit a lot of churches. Most churches look like they were just built. Wood, stone and cement. Painted white with colorful roof and trim accents (usually red); though some churches were black. It turns out that many have been restored by the descendants of those who built or maintained the church (back in the day). Picturesque. Maybe that is the point.
As for the ships. Was this how [coastal] communities displayed their connection to the sea? Were the ships simply out of commission after years of sailing service? Had they all been blown ashore in big storms? Probably the truth resides in equal parts. Regardless, it was still kind of unique to see a ship moored on dry land. Smaller boats had been placed in playgrounds. A connection to the sea for young and old alike.
Water surrounds Iceland. And water flows out of Iceland. Water, water, everywhere. Falling. Thundering down to the sea. A land of waterfalls. Some were grand, like Gullfoss waterfalls.
Others were smaller (relatively speaking - note person in photo for scale). You could walk right up to them. And, in the case of Seljalandsfoss waterfalls (below), you could walk behind them.
Iceland is a land between two continents. It sits atop the Mid-Atlantic Ridge where the North American and Eurasian plates are spreading apart. As such, it was born of volcanoes. Everywhere there is evidence of current and past geo-dynamic activity. Some violent, some beautiful, some both. TJ and I ventured to a couple of geothermal areas, mainly in South/Southwest Iceland. In one town, you could walk right up to the boiling mud. This was as close as I wanted to get. Still, it made me a bit nervous.
At another, we walked past warning barriers and into an unstable steam field. After a strong earthquake in late May, the activity shifted across an access road. We walked in and surveyed the spread of escaping steam. TJ walked out onto a lookout and boardwalk that had been closed for obvious reasons. Luckily, he only came away with dirty hands.
Other terrain in Iceland is a bit more benign. Lots of old and new lava flows. During the cooling of thick lava flows, fracturing can lead to the formation of hexagonal columns. Known as columnar basalt, these formation are found throughout Iceland. Sometimes, just the tops of the formation are exposed.
In a guidebook, we found some interesting statistics. Iceland comprises a land surface of about 100,000 square kilometers. Of this, glaciers represent 12 percent and pasture land another 24 percent. But, according to this source, the majority of Iceland (65%) is referred to as wasteland. At first, we thought that was a bit of a misnomer. But as we drove high above the fjords or across the moss-covered lava fields, we realized that wasteland was an apt description for this alien landscape.
In South Iceland, the Ring Road cuts through kilometers of coarse black grit surrounded by nothing but an occasional [large] boulder. This is glacial debris deposited by catastrophic floods when Katla, the volcano underneath Myrdalsjokull Glacier, erupted and melted the glacier. Katla has erupted 16 times in historical times; the last time in 1918. Driving on this flat black plane our thoughts turned to disaster scenarios. What would happen if Katla erupted while we were driving? Where would we go? Would/could we survive? We identified a high promontory on the coast that might offer safety. We were only here for a vacation, the farms and houses around us live with this doomsday scenario every day.
This mixture of fire and ice is what makes Iceland unique. But, with the fire, you likely want it small and contained. A hot springs or geyser will do. A violent, erupting volcano. No thank you, please. Yes, ice. Flowing ice. Melting ice. Sometimes, just eating ice. Here I am enjoying some ice that is likely over 1000 years old. Yes, in a sense, I am contributing to global warming. But, it was oh-so-enjoyable.
The highlight of the trip was seeing icebergs lying on a beach. Now, technically, I am not sure if they are still considered icebergs if not floating in water? But that's beside the point. Look at the colors. Look at the size. There was clear ice and coarse granular ice and snow cone ice. There was white ice, blue ice and black ice.
There were small icebergs and large, bigger than TJ, icebergs. It was a landscape like no other I had ever seen. And that is a lasting memory I wish to share with you.
I have posted more photos from our trip on Picasa here. Enjoy!
All photos shown on this post and on the Picasa link were taken with my new digital point and shoot camera. It is a Canon Powershot SD1100 IS in Bohemian Brown and I really like it.
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1 comment:
Chris, I take it that you don't miss cities with the cramped buildings and people anymore, do you?
Such perfect tranquility those Iceland places you visited. No wonder all Iceland people being so quiet. They're always awed by these beauty.
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