There’s a reason why tourists flock. There are some places in the world that are so breathtaking, so humbling, that they simply must be experienced. Iceland is one of those places. There is no landscape your eyes light upon that is not stunning. Volcanos, old and new, in the distance—majestic, ominous. Massive lava chunks dragged downward by glaciers—dogged gravitas. A mossy vale with trickling brooks—fairy knoll. Pounding rivers—deafening percussion; steam floating from fissures—affable ghosts.
Magma flowing, molten; cooling, drying, scored by ever downward drifting mountains of ice. Tectonic plates crashing, disparate angles rising, faces forming—craggy noses, ancient jowls, vexed brows. What is today may be gone tomorrow. Dynamic Iceland.
Yesterday in Reykjovik we were wearing short sleeves, but today, hiking the five-mile perimeter of Grimsey Island, we wear layers that come on and go off and come back on depending on whether we’re trudging up or picking our way down. It’s forty-five degrees, wind at forty miles an hour. Nesting on the cliffs, thousands of puffins rise high and drop low, go out and come back. They really are cute birds, with their orange-red curved beaks. Their small wings flap frantically, likewise making me frantic—Come on little birds! You can make it! At some point we wander into the arctic circle, which is no colder than it was five steps ago.
Iceland is all about volcanos, one of which erupted upon our arrival. In our various buses we zig-zag all around the thing, always keeping it at a distance, with each local guide telling us how impressed we should be by the tiny puff of white floating peacefully above a faraway mountaintop.
Iceland is an environmentally conscientious country. Its citizens eschew plastic in all its forms and prefer electric cars; and a large portion of their energy is harvested from their unique geothermal resources, about which they are smug: they are able to do that which no other country can—function efficiently.
As we cross the country and the guides pour information into brains that’re numb from receiving too much knowledge—and also, what we really care about is what we will have for dinner, for the chef on the boat is truly gifted—they tell us that the main industry in Iceland is agriculture. Hah. The massive vehicles rolling up to every mildly notable volcanic peak, crater, and geyser clearly tell us that the most profitable industry in this country is tourism.
We arrive at another island, Heimaey, which is known for a volcano that erupted here in 1973; I recall that the thick ash it belched out caused all the airports in Europe to close. On the whole island, only one person died, whom, it was widely assumed, had been passed out drunk. The islanders excavated one of the destroyed homes and built a small museum around it. We’re dropped off there and told to spend an hour learning about volcanos—and I think how I’d rather pluck every hair from my head than contemplate volcanos for sixty minutes. Later, our guide, a cocky twenty-two-year-old, climbs a cliff and swings around on a rope, demonstrating the locally popular skill of robbing nests; later he will sing us a rather romantic Icelandic song. He tells a story of the 1973 evacuation—people woken from their beds in the dark of night, the elderly taken out on a plane, only to find that they’d all been pulled from their blankets and led out in such a hurry that they didn’t have time to get their dentures. So a helpful policeman was tasked with fetching all the false teeth, which he dropped in a bag and sent along. The notion of how they straightened that out is amusing and we all chuckle.
For our next excursion, we hike to a lovely waterfall, a place for taking pictures. Halfway back the swift wind blows rain straight at our faces. We put our heads down, shiver, and hurry. Luckily, I wore the rain pants I purchased especially for this purpose. For hiking in Iceland rain gear and hiking boots are a necessity. Simply do not go there without these things. An umbrella? Useless. It’ll explode inside out in two seconds.
On the way back to the boat we stop by an artic fox refuge, where two rescued foxes huddle in their shelter, staying out of the icy wind. The attendant tells us that these animals represent the only wild mammals on the island—and in the next breath, she tells us that the foxes eat mice—and I think hmm.
We take a bath in a hot spring, which feels good and which David says smells like poisonous gas. The others in the group don’t want to hear about poison or gas. When we get back on the bus we’re all warm and relaxed and our skin feels new.
A few facts: Our small ship is owned by a French company, Ponant; the senior staff is French with the occasional German thrown in; servers and cleaners are mostly well-trained Philippinos. There are a hundred and forty-eight passengers and a hundred and fifteen crew members. The name of our ship is Le Ballot. Like any sensible person, I pronounce it the way it looks. Not so, the captain, who in a nasally worshipful tone, pronounces it Loobaloo. Cracks me up every time.
The touring company that has pulled us all together here is Tauck, pronounced Towk, which is owned and operated by the Tauck family out of Wilton, Connecticut. Every passenger on board is here with this company. It’s my understanding that Tauck doesn’t always exclusively occupy an entire vessel, but this is our second cruise with Tauck and that’s been the case both times. Tauck’s guides are charming and sincere in their desire to please, and, from my conversations with them, think that to achieve guide status in this company is to reach the pinnacle of their profession.
I highly recommend the Iceland experience; and if you haven’t thought about taking a Tauck tour, I advise you to consider it. If you’re going to do a thing, why not do it in the best way possible?
The two walls mark the clash between the Northern American tectonic plate and the Eurasian tectonic plate. The crevices were quite deep in some places and it was really cool to walk around in there.
Halfway back from this waterfall the wind and rain pounded us.
Beautiful pictures everywhere you look.
