CHAPTER XTHE CAPITAL—REYKJAVIKMuch to our surprise, when about two miles outside Reykjavik, we met our fellow-passenger by theCeres, him with whom we had lunched at Thorshavn on the outward journey. We had left him behind at that port, and he had intended to stay for several weeks at the Faroes and to return thence to England; but having found things rather slow there, he had followed us to Iceland by the next steamer; hence the meeting on the road.We created some sort of sensation as we entered the capital of Iceland. The clocks were striking ten as we clattered down the long main street; it was a time when the populace were at leisure and on the street, and they evinced no little curiosity as we rode by them. They were congregated in small groups, and it was evident to us that we were being discussed—and no wonder, for we were a motley-looking cavalcade! We must have presented a very grotesque appearance, clad as we were in oilskins, and covered with mud from head to foot: it had been raining at intervals on the way, and we had had a rather disagreeable journey. We caughtglimpses of faces at most of the windows peering curiously at us and watching our progress through the town. Many of the members of the groups, by the wayside saluted as we passed by—the Icelanders are a polite people, as a rule, and they doff their head-gear in salutation to strangers. So we progressed, being saluted, and acknowledging the salutes. It was a sort of triumphal entry, for the news had been carried forward by one of the guides, who was some little distance ahead with some of the pack-ponies, that we had just crossed the country by way of the uninhabited interior. All things come to an end, and so did our journey when we reached the end of the main street in Reykjavik, for there, at a great wooden building four stories high, we took up our quarters, and the crossing of Iceland was an accomplished fact.If Reykjavik is not a town to be admired, it must be said that the surrounding scenery is most beautiful; and one of the finest sights I saw in Iceland was one evening when sunset effects were on hill and dale and over the sea.Glasgow House—why so named we were unable to discover—was where we were quartered. The accommodation was fairly good, though there was a lack of furniture in some of the rooms. We learned that the proprietor had but lately entered into possession, and that the furniture had come from a much smaller house; it certainly required some additions to make the general accommodation equal to the table kept there. We came in hungry after our thirty-six miles' ride, so we fully appreciated the good things set before us by our hostess, a Danish woman,who was a capable head of the kitchen. The dining-room was on the ground floor, but a steep staircase led to a large hall-like room above, from which a number of doors opened into bedrooms.After we had eaten a most excellent meal—dinner or supper—we went for a midnight prowl round the town. Our fellow-passenger by theCeres, an Oxford man, whom Thomas and I had known there, was staying at Glasgow House, so he accompanied us, and we strolled about the more retired parts away from the main street, discussing the incidents of our travels in the interior.THE BUSINESS END OF REYKJAVIK BY THE GOVERNOR'S HOUSE.Reykjavik is not a very large town, as its population of about four thousand indicates. It is built on the coast and is a long, straggling place; and although just in the business quarter there are several streets running parallel or at right angles to one another, yet, with this exception, the houses are built along the main thoroughfare. The buildings for the most part are of wooden construction, with galvanised iron roofs, though here and there a turf-roofed shanty stands as a reminder that the habitation of the average Icelander has no galvanised iron about it. Some of the principal business people are Danes, and many of the houses have been built more in conformity with Danish ideas than with those of the Icelander. The natives are fishermen and farmers, and have no very strong predilections for general business—they are inclined to leave that sort of thing to the Danes, who are more adapted to it. The clergymen and doctors are, as a rule, the sons of farmers who exhibit signs of greater brightness than the average. They first go through a course atthe Latin School, and then proceed to the Theological College or the Medical School; some afterwards go to Copenhagen to the University there. Both clergy and medical men are paid by the State, though the latter receive a nominal fee from their patients. The finest building in Iceland is said to be the Bank in the main street of Reykjavik. It is a strongly built, solid-looking square structure. The ground floor is used for banking business, but the upper floor contains a good collection of Icelandic curiosities and antiquities—it is known as the Antiquarian Museum, I think. Old weapons, ladies' saddles, women's national dress, snuff and various other kinds of carved boxes, gold and silver ornaments, altar-cloths, altarpieces, and other church furniture, etc., are among the exhibits. This collection is never open to the public in the way that similar collections are open in otherparts of the world. A visitor cannot walk in at any stated definite hour—the doors are always locked against admission unless an appointment is made with the caretaker of the collection to open them, and if, as in our case, one happens to be a little after the appointed time, a wait of half an hour while the attendant guide goes in search of the caretaker may be necessary. In the Ornithological Museum—a large room attached to a small house just away from the business part of the town—there is a fine collection of the birds of Iceland. We tried to gain admission here without having made an appointment with the caretaker, but quite failed: the door was locked, and we were unable to make known what we wanted. The only person on the premises, a middle-aged Icelandic woman, laughed and giggled and talked, and evinced no little curiosity regarding certain articles of our clothing. We thought, in our ignorance of her tongue, that she was making fun of us and of our dress. When we went away from the Museum, this woman followed us down town, and on meeting our guide we learnt that our curious friend was not quite in her right mind—a fact that accounted for her peculiar actions and manner. We saw the collection of birds on another occasion by appointment.Facing a grassy square there are two buildings of importance—one of these, a wooden structure, is the Cathedral; the other, a massive stone building, is the Senate House, where the members of the Althing, or Parliament, meet.REYKJAVIK—INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL.Iceland has recently been granted Home Rule, but at the time of our visit the Althing consistedof two Houses—the Upper and the Lower. The Upper House was composed of twelve members, all of whom were Icelanders—six of these were appointed by the King of Denmark, the other six being elected by the people. The Lower House consisted of twenty-four members, all Icelanders, and all elected by the people. Each House had a President, who was elected by the members. The President had no vote, so in the Upper House the Icelanders always tried to elect a President from the members appointed by the King of Denmark in order to give the people's representatives a majority of six votes to five. The Governor, an Icelander appointed by the King, to whom he was answerable, had the right to sit in each House; he occupied a seat beside the presidential chair. The members of each House were elected forthree sessions; but as the Houses met in every alternate year only, there was an election but once in six years. A Prime Minister was appointed by the King of Denmark, but he did not sit in either House; in fact, the Minister of two years ago had never been in Iceland. He was a Dane, residing in Copenhagen and knowing nothing of Iceland or its requirements except from report. The Prime Minister resembled our Colonial Secretary in his relations with our Colonies, though there was a difference in that he wasnominallyanswerable to the Icelandic Althing as well as to the King of Denmark. Bills were presented in either House by the whole House, by a section of the House, or by an individual member. The Bills were read three times, and the House might go into Committee on a Bill at any time. The Committee might consist of three, five, or seven members in the Upper House—it was more often three and five—and of three, five, seven, or nine in the Lower House. Either House might reject a Bill passed by the other House. The King of Denmark, acting on the advice of the Icelandic Prime Minister, used to approve a Bill passed by both Houses, when it became law.In the Althing there are no parties as we know them, for all the members are united on high politics, are republican in their feeling, and most anxious to retain their independence of action. The members often have differences of opinion about a particular Bill, of course. The session used to last for eight weeks only, and during that period the Houses sat daily (Sunday excepted), often having two sittings a day. The members assembled at mid-day, and if thebusiness was not got through by four, they adjourned and met again at five. As the Althing met but once in two years, and the session was so short, there was a gap of a year and ten months when legislation was at a standstill. During that period, however, the members were often in communication one with another, and any Bills that it was desirable should be presented to the Althing at the next session were discussed in that way. The press was also the medium for the discussion of desirable legislation. As some of the members contributed to and wrote for the newspapers, the pros and cons of a particular Bill were often pretty well thrashed out before being presented to the Althing. Local affairs were managed by Sysselmen, or sheriffs, who had great powers vested in them.When our party broke up, as it did the next day, I went on board theBothniato see off those who were leaving Iceland. The whole party had pulled so well together, and had been so successful, that we separated with feelings of regret that all could not proceed on further travels in the west of the island.The day after the departure of those leaving Iceland, Miss Hastie and I visited Engey Island, one of the homes of the eider duck. On landing from a rowing-boat that had been hired to convey us from Reykjavik, a distance of two to three miles, we were delayed for a while by a heavy shower of rain. When it had abated we could find no one at the wharf able to speak English, so we made our way to the house of the owner of the island, for we had been informed at Reykjavik that we should find some one at Engey to point out the resorts of the ducks. We found therea young girl who could speak English very well. On learning our desires she at once offered to conduct us to the ducks, and led the way, accompanied by a sister, over a series of slippery stones and rough hummocks, to the ducks' nesting-ground. The season was almost over, so we did not see many birds in the nests. Most of the eggs had been hatched, and the parents had departed with their young, or else were swimming about in the waters around the island. Nevertheless a few birds still remained in their nests, and we found them comparatively tame; they were not quite undisturbed by our presence, though, for they moved away a few yards in an agitated state, leaving their young to blunder and stumble about all around. In vain we tried to keep the ducklings from wandering, but they would struggle out of the nest time after time, the mother walking round us the while with a watchful eye upon her brood. It is said that the down which the old birds pluck from their breasts to line the nests may be removed two or three times before they abandon them. Some of the nests, which were in the hollows between the hummocks, had bad eggs in them; so that, unless care was taken in moving from one hummock to another, a bad odour might make us aware that we had taken a false step. On returning to the house, the girls who had accompanied us showed the process of cleaning the eider-down. It is taken in handfuls and rubbed over a wire grating: the down clings to the wires, while the dirt falls through; the grating is reversed from time to time, and the down removed from the wires and rubbed repeatedly until properly cleaned and freed from dirt and foreign substances.CHAPTER XIIN THE WEST—TO REYKHOLTWe spent two days at Reykjavik before renewing our journeyings. We were a much reduced party, for instead of eleven persons in all, we only mustered five when, on the third day from our arrival at the capital, we set out once more. Miss Hastie and myself were all that remained of the old party, but we were joined by a young Icelandic medical student, Jón Rosenkranz, while we were accompanied by our old conductor as "guide, philosopher, and friend," and Hannes as guide. Jón we soon found to be of a sportive nature, and he never seemed happier than when something was not going right. When any of the pack strayed, he seemed to be quite in his element, for he would settle into his saddle with a bump and go helter-skelter over the country after the straying ones. Hannes was his especial butt, and though Hannes himself was a mine of dry humour, yet he at times took things very seriously, and it was then that Jón was in good form; his eyes would sparkle, and he would slyly endeavour to "take a rise" out of Hannes, though Hannes, as a rule, was quite equal to the occasion.We were bound once more for the interior, and expected to get well up towards the lakes of Arnarvatnsheithi, to visit the Caves at Surtshellir, and to see the western side of Lang Jökull, where we should again enter the uninhabited desert. The greater portion of our journey, though, would be among the western farms, in country rich in folklore and made famous in the Sagas.Our way lay for several miles along the Thingvellir road, then we turned off to the left and skirted the fjord for a mile or two, soon, however, striking inland away from the coast. We passed at the foot of Lagafell, a rather striking mountain having an abrupt escarpment, and proceeded thence through grassy country to Mosfell. Soon after getting clear of Reykjavik we were met by one of our old guides, Thorlakur, who accompanied us to Mosfell, where he possessed a farm, which lay on the hillside overlooking a green plain well besprinkled with cotton grass. After lunch we went up to Thorlakur's farm, and made the acquaintance of his wife and two little girls, who entertained us to coffee. I took two photographs of the family: one showing the dwelling—a typical western farm-house of the better class—and the other with Thorlakur on his pony, and showing a tuff-capped and protected hill in the background. The grass on this farm was very thick, and in the plain below the cotton grass was so abundant that it looked as if a number of white sheets had been spread over the green.THORLAKUR AND HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN AT HIS FARM-HOUSE.After taking leave of Thorlakur and his family, we proceeded on our way, making a gradual ascent until reaching a spot overlooking a stream, beyond whichthere were some peculiarly-shaped brownish hills that presented a somewhat castellated appearance—from the distance it was difficult to judge whether they were volcanic necks, or liparite or tuff formations. On the way the weather, which had been quite fine to the time of our arrival at Mosfell, gradually changed: we could see the moisture condensing on the mountains away to our left and straight ahead, and were much struck with the peculiar way in which the mists hung over the hills and left a valley quite clear. From the spot overlooking the stream just mentioned, we descended into the valley and crossed the river, the Leiruvogsá; then we commenced the ascent of a long, steep track up the hillsides, between Skalafell on the east and the great mass of the mountain Esja on the west, towards the pass knownas Svinaskarth. Beyond the river, we entered the region where the moisture was rapidly condensing, and made our way up the path in a perfect deluge of rain. We passed hundreds of small streams and rivulets that came down the mountain sides across our path. We did not mind the rain, for we were clad in oilskins, and the weather was not cold—there was a great difference in temperature from that of the interior and between the ice-fields: it seemed milder, as indeed it was, and the rain did not strike so cold. We were experiencing the difference due to the warmer winds from the south and south-west, and to the effect of the North Atlantic Drift, a continuation of the Gulf Stream. One peak of Esja to the left was a sharp-pointed brown cone of liparite, and it stood out as a prominent feature as we ascended. The pass was very steep in places, and had a number of abrupt turns in it, and there were many views that would have made fine pictures for the camera in clearer weather. Descending the pass into the valley of the Sviná (Svinadal) the gradient was rather severe, so we dismounted and led our ponies down the steepest parts to relieve them from our weight for a while. A very noticeable feature in Svinadal was the number of streams that emerged from the mountain sides, from beneath the lava flows, and then ran down in a series of cascades to join the river Sviná in the valley. We followed this river to its confluence with the Laxá, which flows for a short distance through a quantity of outcropping lava,roches moutonnéesagain, whose rounded and smoothed surfaces stand as evidence that ice once filled the valley. Thence we proceeded along the valley of theLaxá (Laxadal) beside the river and through a quantity of moraine matter to Reynivellir, passing the volcanic cone of Sandfell to the right. Along the sides of this valley the straight lines of the lava flows can be traced for miles dipping but very slightly inland from the fjord (Laxavogr), which we were then in sight of.We arrived at Reynivellir on Saturday evening and stayed there till Monday. The weather was not good, and excepting on Sunday evening, when there was a break that caused some very fine cloud-effects, it rained almost incessantly. Our first camp was made here, but as through a misunderstanding only one tent had been brought, which Miss Hastie used, the rest of the party had to make shift in another way. I elected to use the church as my place of residence, and had my bed rigged up in the loft or gallery; this loft was a veritable storehouse, so out of curiosity I made a rough inventory of the articles I found. Besides several boxes and sea-chests, there was hanging from a number of hooks a wardrobe that would have clothed about half-a-dozen persons of both sexes; then there were some large lockers, ranged along the side of the loft, that were filled with wool; a number of agricultural implements, a rocking armchair, and two forms completed the list.The Icelanders are very hospitable, and travellers are made welcome. Every farmer who can afford it has one or two guest-chambers that are placed at the disposal of any one passing through. On arrival at the farm the traveller is invited to partake of coffee. When this is served in the best room of the house, the farmer and his wife join the new arrivals in alight meal, consisting of excellent coffee, and fancy pastry of equally excellent quality. Some of the Icelandic women are very good pastry-cooks, and the cakes and pastry they produce often equal in quality any that could be procured at a first-class London confectioner's.At Reynivellir there are a farm-house and a church. The churches are either Athalkirkja (principal church) or Annexia (farmers' church), and that at Reynivellir is Athalkirkja. The clergy are appointed and paid by the Government; but they have farms which add to their incomes. The religion of the Icelanders is Lutheran. Service was held in the church at Reynivellir on the Sunday morning while we were there, and all the members of our party attended it. The minister was attired in black robes, which he wore with a white ruff and flattened hat; he looked exactly as if he had just stepped out of a Velasquez picture, for his face and dress were quite typical. It is a peculiarity of the Icelandic services that the members of the congregation come and go just as they please; evidently they consider the service of too long duration, for many leave the church and absent themselves for periods varying up to fifteen minutes. I inquired why, and was informed that the Icelanders being used to open-air life, could not remain still and cooped up for any length of time, so they left while the service was in progress, in order to stretch their legs and occasionally to have a smoke. They were quite regardless of the time of commencement of the service, and came in at any time during its progress. The sexes did not seem to mix, for the men were seated, most of them, in the chancel around the pulpit,while the body of the church was occupied by the women, though a few men sat in the seats right at the back.The rain continued to the time of our departure from Reynivellir, for we set out on Monday in a depressing drizzle. We had a very stiff climb by a zigzag path up the side of the Reynivallahals mountain, a flat-topped range having the valley of the Laxá on one side and the waters of Hvalfjord on the other. After crossing the highest part of the ridge, we gradually descended to the water of Hvalfjord, passing Fossá, where there is a small waterfall in a ravine, close by a wooden bridge that spans it. There was a good view from Fossá over Hvalfjord and to the head of one branch of it. To this branch we descended by a long slope on the steep mountain side, and then passed round the head of the arm, where the Brgnjudalsá runs into it over a ledge of basalt. We could not help being struck with the two bold scarped ends of the mountain ranges that come down to the fjord: Muláfjall between the two branches, and Thyrill beyond. After crossing the Brgnjudalsá, we rounded the first headland, and proceeded for some distance along the second arm of the fjord till we came to a black sandy beach, which was then covered with about six inches of water. This was fully a mile from the head of the fjord, but we crossed at this point, the ponies splashing through the water as if they enjoyed that part of the journey—and doubtless they did. Our way then lay at the foot of the great escarpment of the Thyrill mountains, a range that has been carved by the weather into wondrous fantastic shapes, the end presenting amagnificent castellated appearance—a fine solid block resting on a sloping base.THE THYRILL MOUNTAINS.One of the Sagas relates how the Thyrill family some nine hundred years ago resided on the small island of Greirsholmi, which was probably much bigger than it is at the present time. They had a feud with another family, who invaded the island; but the Thyrills had received warning of the approach of the enemy, and they escaped to the peninsula of Thyrillsnes, where a sanguinary battle was fought. All the Thyrills were slain except one woman who had been left on the island, and she escaped by swimming to the mainland with her baby son; she then ascended the castellated end of the Thyrill mountains and escaped through the gap between the two blocks into which it is divided. It is said thatwhen the son grew up, he wreaked vengeance upon the family that had almost exterminated his own.From Thyrill we proceeded along the shore of Hvalfjord for two or three miles, and on looking back, the end of the Thyrill mountains presented a remarkably fine appearance. From a base of lava and tuff, with a talus slope above, there rose the main castellated block composed of upright columns of basalt. Looking the other way towards the sea, the block of mountains known as Akrafjall, round which the fjord bends, stands as a striking feature in the landscape.On leaving the coast we climbed some liparite and tuff rises, and then passed over a range of hills (Ferstikluhals) northward. From the divide we had a very good view over the country ahead; in a valley below there were three lakes having an outlet for their water through Svinadal, by the river Laxá, into a small fjord named Leirárvogar—this must not be confounded with the Laxá already mentioned. It should be noted that the same name is often applied to more than one mountain, river, or town, and confusion as to the geographical position may arise unless it is clearly understood which of those bearing the same name is indicated; for instance, Mosfell (mossy mountain) is applied to several mountains, Hvitá (white river) to several rivers, and Stathr (a homestead) to several villages or farm-houses of note. We skirted two of the lakes in the valley and then passed between the last two, where Hannes made a deal in trout with a man who was fishing in a stream connecting the two lakes. We made our way through rain, which had justrecommenced after a fairly fine interval lasting during most of the day's journey, to the head of the third lake, where we found quarters for the night at the farm-house of Draghals. Miss Hastie occupied her tent as usual; but I, not liking the guest-chamber because it was absolutely devoid of ventilation,—the windows were fixed in their frames and could not be opened,—took up my quarters in a drying-shed, a large and airy enclosure running along two sides of the house, which was a fair-sized galvanised iron structure. Beside this modern excrescence there stood the old wooden-fronted, turf-walled, and grass-roofed buildings that were formerly used as the dwelling-house, but were then converted into kitchen and dairy buildings—ancient and modern were side by side.MISS HASTIE TROUT-FISHING.There were some pretty scenes on the river Draghalsá, an interesting stream having a number of hard and soft dykes cut through by the water that descends in a series of waterfalls to a pool, the overflow from which runs into the lake close by. Both pool and stream afford sport for fishermen, and Miss Hastie and Jón got quite a good basket of trout there. I was less fortunate; but as I did not commence until the others had finished, I concluded that they had caught all the fish in the stream and had left none for me to catch—but I am not a fisherman, so lack of skill may have had something to do with the small success met with.TYPICAL ICELANDIC FARMERS.The people here were typical Icelandic farmers, and the photographs I took give a very good idea of them. They are not altogether devoid of humour, and enjoyed my photographing our "guide, philosopher, and friend," whom I caught sharpening a knife at a grindstone. He was quite unconscious that I wasimmortalising him, but the onlooking Icelanders grasped the point of the situation, and their appreciation of it was expressed in their faces, which were turned towards me as I took a snapshot at the group.On leaving Draghals late in the afternoon we climbed the hills to the north and came in sight of a fine sheet of water about ten miles long. This is Skorradalsvatn; it is not very broad, being less than two miles at its widest part. Just after passing the divide we came upon a fine waterfall at a spot where the waters of one of the mountain streams fall a sheer hundred feet into a deep pool below. There are two very fine gorges here, and they join at the confluence of two streams that then flow by a meandering course to the lake. The delta of this river has spread half-way across the lake, where the width is gradually narrowing; in course of time it will extend right across, and cut the water into two portions. We then skirted the lake to its head, rounding it just where it narrows to a river, which flows on as the Audakilsá towards Borgarfjord. Just beyond the river we came to the farm-house of Grund, where we took up our quarters.We remained at Grund a whole day in order that the fishermen might again try their skill with the rod, and they were successful in catching a number of trout. It rained heavily during the afternoon, which was very annoying, for it prevented me from going to explore the mountains of Skarthsheithi and the vicinity—a pity, for the group looks a most interesting one. Facing Grund they form a sort of semicircle, a vast corrie having a yellowish-brown hill in the middle, a liparite mound; to the left ofthe semicircle there is another brownish mountain that is evidently a series of alternations of tuff and liparite. On the face of the mountains in the centre there are two small glaciers, while to the right there is a remarkable stepped pyramid that shows most distinctly the lava flows—flow above flow being lined out and stepped in the profile, the parallel lines being distinctly marked not only on the pyramid but also round the semicircle.At Grund we lost our "guide, philosopher, and friend," whose engagements required his presence in Reykjavik in the course of the next few days. In the early morning he departed, and thenceforth we had to look to Hannes for guidance. Two or three hours after his departure we set out for Reykholt. Our way lay over some rough rising lava flows at the back of the farm-house, and these we ascended to the divide, whence we had a fine view of the valley of the Hvitá. It was fertile-looking country, but the land is not cultivated; grass is the only thing grown, for the sun has not sufficient strength to ripen grain of any kind. Haymaking was in full swing just then, and we saw the haymakers at work on all the farms as we passed by. Beyond the Hvitá valley a long range of mountains stretches from near the sea far inland, the most prominent in the chain being a conical peak (Baula) some fifteen to twenty miles distant.After crossing the river Grimsá we entered a stretch of country composed of many alluvial river terraces. Terrace above terrace had been formed in succession by the Hvitá and several of its branches that we crossed in the course of the day, namely, theGrimsá, the Flokadalsá, the Reykjadalsá, and others. Between the two last named rivers we had lunch beside the farm-house of Kropprmuli. From the Reykjadalsá we proceeded to some hot springs, Tunguhver, close beside the river. These springs emerge from the side of a small hillock, where they bubble and boil over, and spurt jets a few feet into the air; the water comes down the hillside in a series of small waterfalls or cascades. Great volumes of steam rose from the springs, and unfortunately the wind was blowing it in such a way as to obscure the whole of the springs, except for an occasional glimpse when the steam was swirled aside by a strong gust. At one end of the hill, however, where the springs were very active, the steam was partly blown away from us, and we saw several of them in violent ebullition. On leaving this spot we made our way up the valley of the Reykjadalsá, a river that we crossed nine times in less than the same number of miles. At a spot close by one of our crossings there was, in the middle of the river, a small mound that is often the scene of eruptive violence; it was the site of the geyser, Arhver, which plays at intervals of several days—weeks sometimes, throwing a small stream of water high into the air, sometimes twenty feet or more.At Reykholt, where we put up for the night, there are a church, parsonage, and farm. The minister was at home, and he came out to receive us as we clattered into the space in front of the parsonage. He was a big, broad-shouldered man, as broad in mind as in person, and capable of regarding things in a large way. He welcomed us in courtly fashion,and as he spoke good English we at once got on excellent terms with him. An invitation to coffee was of course accepted, and we were entertained by the minister and his wife, a woman in striking contrast to our host in point of size, for she was quite small and slim.The Reykholt parsonage is on the site of the house of Snorri Sturluson, the historian, who lived nearly seven hundred years ago. Just below the house, and less than a hundred yards distant from it, there is a hot spring known as Skriflir, which seems to have been in existence in Snorri's time, for rather nearer to the house there is a bath that is said to have been constructed by him. It is connected to the spring by an aqueduct, also ascribed to Snorri. The water on issuing from the spring is boiling, and when it reaches the bath it has lost but little of its original heat, consequently it is impossible to bathe at once. When any one requires a tub, the water is run into it from the spring over-night, then in the morning the temperature is just delightfully warm. This bath was built in twelve hundred and something; and as Snorri died in 1241, it is not much short of seven hundred years old. A large iron cauldron that stood just close to the spring served as the laundry, for the family washing was done there. Hot springs are often utilised in this way. At Reykjavik, the capital, the whole of the washing of the town is done at a hot spring, the Laug, just outside the town, and daily numbers of women are to be seen going and returning with their wooden wash-tubs on their backs.The Reykholt church was the largest that we hadseen away from the towns. The minister informed me that sometimes he had as many as two hundred persons in his congregation, the number varying between that and one hundred. His parish was a large one, there being thirty-five farms included in it. The parsonage was one of the prettiest imaginable, for its grassy roofs and sides were covered with a profusion of camomile flowers. I took photographs of front and back, but they give only a faint idea of the original, devoid as they are of colour.In the valley of the Reykjadalsá just below Reykholt there is a very thick growth of peat; down by the river it was laid bare for a thickness of more than twelve feet, the thickest seam I saw in Iceland.CHAPTER XIIBARNAFOSS AND THE SURTSHELLIR CAVESThe sun had crossed the meridian next day before we left Reykholt. We had coffee with the minister and his wife, from whom we parted on the best possible terms; they and their children waved their adieux to us as we proceeded on our way up Reykholtsdal. We struck across towards the Hvitá, and soon came in sight of that river, a swift-flowing stream whose milky-white colour denoted that its source must be up in the snow-and ice-fields of the Jökulls. Along the Hvitá (white river) valley there were many evidences that the river had at one time been far wider, for up the valley sides several terraces marked levels at which alluvium had formerly been deposited. We lunched at Stori Ás, in view of the conical peaked mountain, Strutr, and Eyriks Jökull. We were then not far from the bridge that spans the Hvitá and affords communication between opposite sides of the river, so Miss Hastie and I walked on while Hannes and Jón were adjusting pack-saddles, etc. I came upon an interesting specimen of wind erosion at the top of a rise, where the sandy soil had been blown away from round a turf-covered mound. We passedthrough a small birch wood, but the trees were very diminutive, three to five feet being the average, with a few rather more; a photograph I took gives the impression of much greater height. On the opposite side of the river we could see recent lava, and on the hillside beyond, the farm-house of Gilsbakki. This lava had come from a considerable distance, for I traced its course from Gilsbakki, right away past the liparite mountain, Tunga, and beyond Strutr, where it divides and flows in two streams. This lava determines the courses of the principal rivers thereabouts, which flow along its edges.A FOREST NEAR BARNAFOSS.Just below the bridge a very remarkable sight is to be seen. For more than half a mile along the right bank of the river a series of cascades and waterfalls flow into it. The water issues from beneath thelava of which the steep bank is composed, and then flows down its side; it is a very striking proof of the great extent of some of the subterranean rivers. Just above the bridge there is a very fine fall in the Hvitá, known as Barnafoss; though fine, it cannot be compared with Gullfoss in grandeur, and the glory of this part of the river is the series of cascades on its right bank. The spot is supposed to have been named from the drowning of two children near the fall—Barnafoss, the children's waterfall; but the minister at Reykholt declared that the tale is not true, and that the name is more likely to have been corrupted from Bjarni, which is a man's name. It is worthy of note that the birch woods seem to flourish best in the decaying lava in the scoriaceous lava-fields; it also seems to do well in soil produced from liparite, forit grows high up on the east side of the liparite mountain, Tunga.THE CASCADES AT BARNAFOSS.At the Hvitá bridge the party split into two—Miss Hastie going on with Hannes to Gilsbakki, while Jón and I went along the left bank of the Hvitá past Husafell, thence onward across the river Kaldá, where we got among lava and birches. The birches were much of the same height as those in the Barnafoss wood, though I saw several that stood about seven to eight feet high. I took a photograph of one of them—one in which the wood had attained a thickness of some three or four inches; it was the finest specimen of a birch-tree that I saw in Iceland. There are bigger birches in the land, for I have seen a photograph of a clump of about a dozen that are over twenty feet in height, but they are in a particularly favoured spot on the eastern side of the island. I got Jón on his pony to stand while I photographed the wood through which we were passing, for it was a typical Icelandic forest. On crossing the next river, the Geitá, I found the lava much broken up and denuded, and there was spread over it a quantity of the alluvial pebbles that are brought down in times of heavy rains and melting ice by the rivers flowing from Lang Jökull—it is a sort of flood plain, in fact. This continued until we reached the Hvitá, but on the other side of it we once more found ourselves upon the unbroken rough lava. Close beside this river we came to a halt for the night at the farm-house of Kalmanstunga, which is situated in a very picturesque spot facing Lang Jökull, the glaciers and ice-fields of which are in full view; it has the liparite mountain, Tunga, and a portion of Eyriks Jökull on the right, and the extinct volcano, Strutr, on the left.In the morning I ascended the rising ground at the back of Kalmanstunga, and thence obtained an interesting view over the country. In the foreground beneath Lang Jökull a long valley filled with lava from beyond Strutr stretches away from left to right; two rivers flow down the valley, one on each side of the lava, which determines their course along its edges. The Hvitá flowed on the edge of the lava just at the foot of the hills whereon I stood; on the far side of the valley, on the other edge of the lava, the Geitá flowed at the foot of the outlying hills of Lang Jökull. Away to the right in the valley between the two rivers, towards their confluence, I could see the denuded alluvium-covered lava noticed on the way. This alluvial matter is deposited during floods, when the waters of the swollen rivers unite and flow over the lava as one.It was nearly mid-day before we got a start, for there had been delay over a very important matter. Jón had awakened me several hours earlier to inform me that there were no candles in the house! Now, candles would not seem to be a matter of much importance to us, considering that it was then broad daylight and that we had but little use for candles in the ordinary way, because daylight continued practically during the whole twenty-four hours; nor would the lack of them seem to be a thing to cause a delay in starting; but it was really the case, for we were about to proceed to the Surtshellir Caves, and candles were required to enable us to explore their passages. That being so, a messenger had tobe sent to the farm-house at Husafell, where a stock was generally kept for anybody wanting to visit the caves. The caves were distant about two hours' ride—one rarely mentions distance in the ordinary way when travelling in Iceland, because ten miles, say, might represent a journey of three or four hours, or the same distance might be traversed in little more than an hour in very favourable ground. After crossing the rise at the back of Kalmanstunga, we descended into the valley of the Northingafljot, a clear-water river having its source in a number of lakes of glacial origin known as Fiskivötn, lying beyond Eyriks Jökull. The valley is filled with lava from the same source as that on the Hvitá side of Strutr, whence I had just come. Here the lava is noted for the number and extent of the caves that underlie it. There is a sharp rise as the river is ascended, the stream in consequence being a swift one—so swift, indeed, that it has been able to carve a way through the lava, which it crosses from one side of the valley to the other, a very unusual thing. The upper portion flows on the western edge of the lava and at the foot of the hills on that side; while the lower, after crossing the lava, flows along by the eastern edge at the foot of the mountains Strutr and Tunga.THE NORTHINGAFLJOT CUTTING ACROSS THE LAVA.The caves at Surtshellir are remarkable for several things. Their origin is probably due to a big bubble formation, helped partly, perhaps, by a crust of lava being forced upward in the form of an arch by pressure acting from the sides; though there is no doubt that they have been much enlarged and deepened by the eroding action of flowing water.An underground river used to flow through the caves, but as it does not do so now, some lower channel has doubtless been found. There was evidence of lower caves beneath those visited, for on stamping on the ground in several places, distinctly hollow sounds were produced. The falls into the Hvitá at Barnafoss, which are only a few miles away, lie in the Surtshellir line of drainage, and are proof that very large quantities of water are still flowing underground in this neighbourhood; in fact, it is highly probable that a great deal of water from the numerous lakes, the Fiskivötn, on Arnarvatnsheithi, escapes underground. There are two entrances to the caves—one near what is known as the Bone Cave, the other close by the Icicle Cave. The caves are in a picturesque spot, and beyond the entrance thatwe used there lies the great ice-covered Eyriks Jökull, one of the highest mountains in Iceland. There is a depression in the lava at this spot—a double depression, in fact, for inner and outer rims indicate them very distinctly, and it is obvious that the opening in the caves is due to the falling in of part of the roof. Access to the caves is obtained by scrambling down the loose broken lava to an opening at the bottom. The photographs do not give much idea of the roughness of the "going"; from end to end, except in the Icicle Cave, where difficulties of another kind were met with, the floor of the caves was strewn with broken lava. The fragments that have become detached from the roof and now lie upon the floor are angular blocks of extreme raggednessand hardness, piled up in confused heaps that test quality of boots, strength of ankles, and toughness (or tenderness) of skin, to say nothing of the mysterious capability of hanging on "by one's eyelids" that is almost absolutely necessary in places.THE DOUBLE DEPRESSION IN THE LAVA AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES.IN THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES NEAR THE ENTRANCE, SHOWING THE WATER-WORN LINES.Jón and I were accompanied by the farmer from Kalmanstunga, a man acquainted with the caves, who had come with us in the capacity of guide. We scrambled down to the entrance and then lighted our candles. When once inside, there could be no doubt as to one of the causes of their existence or enlargement, for there along the sides of the caves, indicating the different levels of the old river, were numerous water-worn lines. The photograph shows this veryclearly; it also shows the lava fragment bestrewn floor, and the roof from which the fragments have fallen. We followed our guide into the main channel, but he soon turned to the left into a branch known as the Bone Cave, because of the number of animal remains (bones) that bestrew the floor. It is said that some twenty to thirty outlaws at one time occupied the cave, and that the bones are the remains of the sheep and oxen which the outlaws stole from the flocks and herds in the neighbourhood, and which they consumed for food. That may have been so, or it may not, but it would account for the presence of the bones; except for some such tale it would be difficult to do so, for the animals could hardly have strayed so far from daylight, to say nothing of the difference of level between the floor of the main channel and that of the Bone Cave. This branch cave was soon explored, for in about two hundred yards the roof gradually converged to meet the floor, and we found it necessary to crawl on hands and knees—a painful thing to do over the rough angular lava blocks. Retracing our steps we descended to the old river-bed again and scrambled over rough boulders for a considerable distance, to emerge after awhile by a long rising snow slope into the open air. The snow remains in the caves all the year round; it drifts in through the opening during the winter, and the warmth of the whole summer's sun does not suffice to melt it—it was then the end of July.The opening has been caused by the falling in of the roof, but there is no way out—the edges overhang quite beyond reach. On again we went, downanother snow slope to the second section of the caves, where the "going" was indescribable. Our way lay over the roughest and sharpest-edged blocks of lava that it is possible to imagine, where nothing but the strongest of boots would have withstood the wear and tear; it was one continuous scramble on hands and feet. I found it most difficult, for in addition to the candle in my hands, a camera was slung from my shoulders, and the wretched thing would continually work round in front and get mixed up with arms or legs at critical moments when my body was contorted in scrambling up, down, or over, a particularly awkward series of sharp-edged boulders. At last we reached another long snow slope, at the top of which there was another opening to the caves—the second entrance already mentioned. The snow-drifts are not very deep in places, for I went through twice, though I was able to scramble out again without assistance.The last section of the caves is most remarkable. After descending into it by another snow-drift, we found ourselves in a region of frost and ice. Water trickled everywhere from the roof, crystallising into long icicles, and the drops that fell upon the floor were converted into smooth ice, or gradually built up ice stalagmites. For several hundred yards the whole floor was coated with ice; there were myriads of icicles pendent from the roof, and on the floor stood ice stalagmites, pillars and columns innumerable. One of the first features to notice was a fine group of clear ice columns, while we came upon the most beautiful thing in the caves a little farther on, after descending an ice slope that was most difficult to negotiate without alpenstock and ice nails in boots.However, by the exercise of great care we got down without tumbles, and were rewarded by the sight of a very beautiful snow-white cascade of ice; the scene was very pretty and fairy-like, illumined as it was by the light shed upon the surroundings by our candles. It was after passing the cascade that the real difficulty of the journey began. For several hundred yards we had to make our way over countless lava boulders, but no longer were they sharp and angular, and rough to the touch; no, they were far otherwise, for they were coated with ice and were as smooth as glass, and oh, so cold! and as slippery as the proverbial glass, only more so, for no glass could be so slippery. Up and down we went at the slowest possible rate of progression, climbing over huge blocks of ice-coated lava, hanging on with hands to some of the ice stalagmites that, fortunately for our safety, were in hundreds—nay, thousands, and feeling cautiously with feet for projecting pieces of ice on which to rest them and get a sort of foothold; but our slips were many in the pitchy darkness that was but faintly relieved by the dull light from the candles we carried, which we clasped convulsively in our hands as we clutched at the icy stalagmites, and slid and slipped and blundered along. At last we emerged from the ice-bound region to find ourselves on scoriaceous lava, coated in places with a thin layer of a loamy deposit. Over this we crunched for a few hundred yards till we came to a cairn built in the middle of the cave. In a recess of the cairn there was a tin box, which the guide soon brought to our notice. It contained a number of visiting cards that had been left from time to time by tourists wishing to immortalise themselves,for this is one of the least visited of the "lions" of Iceland. On the top of the cairn, which stood nearly shoulder high, there was a wooden board, having on it a number of coins, ancient as well as modern, for one of them, a Danish coin, bears the date 1743. It is a time-honoured custom for visitors to leave a coin there; but as water drops from the roof upon the board containing the coins, they speedily decompose; indeed, many of them were already unrecognisable from decay. The end of the cave was but a short distance beyond, perhaps a hundred yards, and there two staves, about three feet long, with hollow ends, rested in an upright position on the floor at a spot where the roof and floor rapidly converged; they were kept in place by the sloping roof, which meets the floor a few yards beyond. In the hollows of the staves there were several old coins, one of them being a Danish piece about the size of an English crown. To get out of the caves we had to retrace our steps over the ice-covered boulders and through the Icicle Cave to the second entrance. The photograph shows the view looking towards the entrance just before ascending the snow slope; we had already passed most of the icicles, but on the floor, which is of ice, a few of the very small stalagmites are shown.SURTSHELLIR—THE ICICLE CAVE.In the Icicle Cave we met Miss Hastie and Hannes, who had come over from Gilsbakki because the day was so fine and summer-like—it was one of the few days that really felt summery. After lunch beside the Northingafljot we started for Gilsbakki, proceeding down the lava in the Northingafljot valley. We crossed the river at a convenient ford not far away, and rode along on the right side of the valley. Wepassed by the liparite mountain, Tunga, this time on the western side of it; the lower slopes were covered with birch, though it did not grow so far up as on the eastern side. The colouring of the bare exposed rock was brown, yellow, purple, etc.—just the same as that at the hot springs at Kerlingarfjöll, and it looked as if several places were the sites of hot springs, then extinct. I had no time to examine the mountain, but I should doubtless have found the matter quite hard, whereas that by the hot springs at Kerlingarfjöll was of the consistency of soft clay. Beyond Tunga, the Northingafljot lava joins that coming from the other side of the mountain in the Hvitá valley, and thence they continue as one flow down the Hvitá valley to just beyond Gilsbakki.We travelled for several miles beside the river Thorvaldsdalsá, and could not help noticing that it decreased in volume as we descended, although several streams flowed into it from the mountain-sides; its waters drain underground, and doubtless contribute to the falls on the right bank of the Hvitá, a few miles distant at Barnafoss.
CHAPTER XTHE CAPITAL—REYKJAVIKMuch to our surprise, when about two miles outside Reykjavik, we met our fellow-passenger by theCeres, him with whom we had lunched at Thorshavn on the outward journey. We had left him behind at that port, and he had intended to stay for several weeks at the Faroes and to return thence to England; but having found things rather slow there, he had followed us to Iceland by the next steamer; hence the meeting on the road.We created some sort of sensation as we entered the capital of Iceland. The clocks were striking ten as we clattered down the long main street; it was a time when the populace were at leisure and on the street, and they evinced no little curiosity as we rode by them. They were congregated in small groups, and it was evident to us that we were being discussed—and no wonder, for we were a motley-looking cavalcade! We must have presented a very grotesque appearance, clad as we were in oilskins, and covered with mud from head to foot: it had been raining at intervals on the way, and we had had a rather disagreeable journey. We caughtglimpses of faces at most of the windows peering curiously at us and watching our progress through the town. Many of the members of the groups, by the wayside saluted as we passed by—the Icelanders are a polite people, as a rule, and they doff their head-gear in salutation to strangers. So we progressed, being saluted, and acknowledging the salutes. It was a sort of triumphal entry, for the news had been carried forward by one of the guides, who was some little distance ahead with some of the pack-ponies, that we had just crossed the country by way of the uninhabited interior. All things come to an end, and so did our journey when we reached the end of the main street in Reykjavik, for there, at a great wooden building four stories high, we took up our quarters, and the crossing of Iceland was an accomplished fact.If Reykjavik is not a town to be admired, it must be said that the surrounding scenery is most beautiful; and one of the finest sights I saw in Iceland was one evening when sunset effects were on hill and dale and over the sea.Glasgow House—why so named we were unable to discover—was where we were quartered. The accommodation was fairly good, though there was a lack of furniture in some of the rooms. We learned that the proprietor had but lately entered into possession, and that the furniture had come from a much smaller house; it certainly required some additions to make the general accommodation equal to the table kept there. We came in hungry after our thirty-six miles' ride, so we fully appreciated the good things set before us by our hostess, a Danish woman,who was a capable head of the kitchen. The dining-room was on the ground floor, but a steep staircase led to a large hall-like room above, from which a number of doors opened into bedrooms.After we had eaten a most excellent meal—dinner or supper—we went for a midnight prowl round the town. Our fellow-passenger by theCeres, an Oxford man, whom Thomas and I had known there, was staying at Glasgow House, so he accompanied us, and we strolled about the more retired parts away from the main street, discussing the incidents of our travels in the interior.THE BUSINESS END OF REYKJAVIK BY THE GOVERNOR'S HOUSE.Reykjavik is not a very large town, as its population of about four thousand indicates. It is built on the coast and is a long, straggling place; and although just in the business quarter there are several streets running parallel or at right angles to one another, yet, with this exception, the houses are built along the main thoroughfare. The buildings for the most part are of wooden construction, with galvanised iron roofs, though here and there a turf-roofed shanty stands as a reminder that the habitation of the average Icelander has no galvanised iron about it. Some of the principal business people are Danes, and many of the houses have been built more in conformity with Danish ideas than with those of the Icelander. The natives are fishermen and farmers, and have no very strong predilections for general business—they are inclined to leave that sort of thing to the Danes, who are more adapted to it. The clergymen and doctors are, as a rule, the sons of farmers who exhibit signs of greater brightness than the average. They first go through a course atthe Latin School, and then proceed to the Theological College or the Medical School; some afterwards go to Copenhagen to the University there. Both clergy and medical men are paid by the State, though the latter receive a nominal fee from their patients. The finest building in Iceland is said to be the Bank in the main street of Reykjavik. It is a strongly built, solid-looking square structure. The ground floor is used for banking business, but the upper floor contains a good collection of Icelandic curiosities and antiquities—it is known as the Antiquarian Museum, I think. Old weapons, ladies' saddles, women's national dress, snuff and various other kinds of carved boxes, gold and silver ornaments, altar-cloths, altarpieces, and other church furniture, etc., are among the exhibits. This collection is never open to the public in the way that similar collections are open in otherparts of the world. A visitor cannot walk in at any stated definite hour—the doors are always locked against admission unless an appointment is made with the caretaker of the collection to open them, and if, as in our case, one happens to be a little after the appointed time, a wait of half an hour while the attendant guide goes in search of the caretaker may be necessary. In the Ornithological Museum—a large room attached to a small house just away from the business part of the town—there is a fine collection of the birds of Iceland. We tried to gain admission here without having made an appointment with the caretaker, but quite failed: the door was locked, and we were unable to make known what we wanted. The only person on the premises, a middle-aged Icelandic woman, laughed and giggled and talked, and evinced no little curiosity regarding certain articles of our clothing. We thought, in our ignorance of her tongue, that she was making fun of us and of our dress. When we went away from the Museum, this woman followed us down town, and on meeting our guide we learnt that our curious friend was not quite in her right mind—a fact that accounted for her peculiar actions and manner. We saw the collection of birds on another occasion by appointment.Facing a grassy square there are two buildings of importance—one of these, a wooden structure, is the Cathedral; the other, a massive stone building, is the Senate House, where the members of the Althing, or Parliament, meet.REYKJAVIK—INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL.Iceland has recently been granted Home Rule, but at the time of our visit the Althing consistedof two Houses—the Upper and the Lower. The Upper House was composed of twelve members, all of whom were Icelanders—six of these were appointed by the King of Denmark, the other six being elected by the people. The Lower House consisted of twenty-four members, all Icelanders, and all elected by the people. Each House had a President, who was elected by the members. The President had no vote, so in the Upper House the Icelanders always tried to elect a President from the members appointed by the King of Denmark in order to give the people's representatives a majority of six votes to five. The Governor, an Icelander appointed by the King, to whom he was answerable, had the right to sit in each House; he occupied a seat beside the presidential chair. The members of each House were elected forthree sessions; but as the Houses met in every alternate year only, there was an election but once in six years. A Prime Minister was appointed by the King of Denmark, but he did not sit in either House; in fact, the Minister of two years ago had never been in Iceland. He was a Dane, residing in Copenhagen and knowing nothing of Iceland or its requirements except from report. The Prime Minister resembled our Colonial Secretary in his relations with our Colonies, though there was a difference in that he wasnominallyanswerable to the Icelandic Althing as well as to the King of Denmark. Bills were presented in either House by the whole House, by a section of the House, or by an individual member. The Bills were read three times, and the House might go into Committee on a Bill at any time. The Committee might consist of three, five, or seven members in the Upper House—it was more often three and five—and of three, five, seven, or nine in the Lower House. Either House might reject a Bill passed by the other House. The King of Denmark, acting on the advice of the Icelandic Prime Minister, used to approve a Bill passed by both Houses, when it became law.In the Althing there are no parties as we know them, for all the members are united on high politics, are republican in their feeling, and most anxious to retain their independence of action. The members often have differences of opinion about a particular Bill, of course. The session used to last for eight weeks only, and during that period the Houses sat daily (Sunday excepted), often having two sittings a day. The members assembled at mid-day, and if thebusiness was not got through by four, they adjourned and met again at five. As the Althing met but once in two years, and the session was so short, there was a gap of a year and ten months when legislation was at a standstill. During that period, however, the members were often in communication one with another, and any Bills that it was desirable should be presented to the Althing at the next session were discussed in that way. The press was also the medium for the discussion of desirable legislation. As some of the members contributed to and wrote for the newspapers, the pros and cons of a particular Bill were often pretty well thrashed out before being presented to the Althing. Local affairs were managed by Sysselmen, or sheriffs, who had great powers vested in them.When our party broke up, as it did the next day, I went on board theBothniato see off those who were leaving Iceland. The whole party had pulled so well together, and had been so successful, that we separated with feelings of regret that all could not proceed on further travels in the west of the island.The day after the departure of those leaving Iceland, Miss Hastie and I visited Engey Island, one of the homes of the eider duck. On landing from a rowing-boat that had been hired to convey us from Reykjavik, a distance of two to three miles, we were delayed for a while by a heavy shower of rain. When it had abated we could find no one at the wharf able to speak English, so we made our way to the house of the owner of the island, for we had been informed at Reykjavik that we should find some one at Engey to point out the resorts of the ducks. We found therea young girl who could speak English very well. On learning our desires she at once offered to conduct us to the ducks, and led the way, accompanied by a sister, over a series of slippery stones and rough hummocks, to the ducks' nesting-ground. The season was almost over, so we did not see many birds in the nests. Most of the eggs had been hatched, and the parents had departed with their young, or else were swimming about in the waters around the island. Nevertheless a few birds still remained in their nests, and we found them comparatively tame; they were not quite undisturbed by our presence, though, for they moved away a few yards in an agitated state, leaving their young to blunder and stumble about all around. In vain we tried to keep the ducklings from wandering, but they would struggle out of the nest time after time, the mother walking round us the while with a watchful eye upon her brood. It is said that the down which the old birds pluck from their breasts to line the nests may be removed two or three times before they abandon them. Some of the nests, which were in the hollows between the hummocks, had bad eggs in them; so that, unless care was taken in moving from one hummock to another, a bad odour might make us aware that we had taken a false step. On returning to the house, the girls who had accompanied us showed the process of cleaning the eider-down. It is taken in handfuls and rubbed over a wire grating: the down clings to the wires, while the dirt falls through; the grating is reversed from time to time, and the down removed from the wires and rubbed repeatedly until properly cleaned and freed from dirt and foreign substances.
THE CAPITAL—REYKJAVIK
Much to our surprise, when about two miles outside Reykjavik, we met our fellow-passenger by theCeres, him with whom we had lunched at Thorshavn on the outward journey. We had left him behind at that port, and he had intended to stay for several weeks at the Faroes and to return thence to England; but having found things rather slow there, he had followed us to Iceland by the next steamer; hence the meeting on the road.
We created some sort of sensation as we entered the capital of Iceland. The clocks were striking ten as we clattered down the long main street; it was a time when the populace were at leisure and on the street, and they evinced no little curiosity as we rode by them. They were congregated in small groups, and it was evident to us that we were being discussed—and no wonder, for we were a motley-looking cavalcade! We must have presented a very grotesque appearance, clad as we were in oilskins, and covered with mud from head to foot: it had been raining at intervals on the way, and we had had a rather disagreeable journey. We caughtglimpses of faces at most of the windows peering curiously at us and watching our progress through the town. Many of the members of the groups, by the wayside saluted as we passed by—the Icelanders are a polite people, as a rule, and they doff their head-gear in salutation to strangers. So we progressed, being saluted, and acknowledging the salutes. It was a sort of triumphal entry, for the news had been carried forward by one of the guides, who was some little distance ahead with some of the pack-ponies, that we had just crossed the country by way of the uninhabited interior. All things come to an end, and so did our journey when we reached the end of the main street in Reykjavik, for there, at a great wooden building four stories high, we took up our quarters, and the crossing of Iceland was an accomplished fact.
If Reykjavik is not a town to be admired, it must be said that the surrounding scenery is most beautiful; and one of the finest sights I saw in Iceland was one evening when sunset effects were on hill and dale and over the sea.
Glasgow House—why so named we were unable to discover—was where we were quartered. The accommodation was fairly good, though there was a lack of furniture in some of the rooms. We learned that the proprietor had but lately entered into possession, and that the furniture had come from a much smaller house; it certainly required some additions to make the general accommodation equal to the table kept there. We came in hungry after our thirty-six miles' ride, so we fully appreciated the good things set before us by our hostess, a Danish woman,who was a capable head of the kitchen. The dining-room was on the ground floor, but a steep staircase led to a large hall-like room above, from which a number of doors opened into bedrooms.
After we had eaten a most excellent meal—dinner or supper—we went for a midnight prowl round the town. Our fellow-passenger by theCeres, an Oxford man, whom Thomas and I had known there, was staying at Glasgow House, so he accompanied us, and we strolled about the more retired parts away from the main street, discussing the incidents of our travels in the interior.
THE BUSINESS END OF REYKJAVIK BY THE GOVERNOR'S HOUSE.
THE BUSINESS END OF REYKJAVIK BY THE GOVERNOR'S HOUSE.
THE BUSINESS END OF REYKJAVIK BY THE GOVERNOR'S HOUSE.
Reykjavik is not a very large town, as its population of about four thousand indicates. It is built on the coast and is a long, straggling place; and although just in the business quarter there are several streets running parallel or at right angles to one another, yet, with this exception, the houses are built along the main thoroughfare. The buildings for the most part are of wooden construction, with galvanised iron roofs, though here and there a turf-roofed shanty stands as a reminder that the habitation of the average Icelander has no galvanised iron about it. Some of the principal business people are Danes, and many of the houses have been built more in conformity with Danish ideas than with those of the Icelander. The natives are fishermen and farmers, and have no very strong predilections for general business—they are inclined to leave that sort of thing to the Danes, who are more adapted to it. The clergymen and doctors are, as a rule, the sons of farmers who exhibit signs of greater brightness than the average. They first go through a course atthe Latin School, and then proceed to the Theological College or the Medical School; some afterwards go to Copenhagen to the University there. Both clergy and medical men are paid by the State, though the latter receive a nominal fee from their patients. The finest building in Iceland is said to be the Bank in the main street of Reykjavik. It is a strongly built, solid-looking square structure. The ground floor is used for banking business, but the upper floor contains a good collection of Icelandic curiosities and antiquities—it is known as the Antiquarian Museum, I think. Old weapons, ladies' saddles, women's national dress, snuff and various other kinds of carved boxes, gold and silver ornaments, altar-cloths, altarpieces, and other church furniture, etc., are among the exhibits. This collection is never open to the public in the way that similar collections are open in otherparts of the world. A visitor cannot walk in at any stated definite hour—the doors are always locked against admission unless an appointment is made with the caretaker of the collection to open them, and if, as in our case, one happens to be a little after the appointed time, a wait of half an hour while the attendant guide goes in search of the caretaker may be necessary. In the Ornithological Museum—a large room attached to a small house just away from the business part of the town—there is a fine collection of the birds of Iceland. We tried to gain admission here without having made an appointment with the caretaker, but quite failed: the door was locked, and we were unable to make known what we wanted. The only person on the premises, a middle-aged Icelandic woman, laughed and giggled and talked, and evinced no little curiosity regarding certain articles of our clothing. We thought, in our ignorance of her tongue, that she was making fun of us and of our dress. When we went away from the Museum, this woman followed us down town, and on meeting our guide we learnt that our curious friend was not quite in her right mind—a fact that accounted for her peculiar actions and manner. We saw the collection of birds on another occasion by appointment.
Facing a grassy square there are two buildings of importance—one of these, a wooden structure, is the Cathedral; the other, a massive stone building, is the Senate House, where the members of the Althing, or Parliament, meet.
REYKJAVIK—INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL.
REYKJAVIK—INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL.
REYKJAVIK—INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL.
Iceland has recently been granted Home Rule, but at the time of our visit the Althing consistedof two Houses—the Upper and the Lower. The Upper House was composed of twelve members, all of whom were Icelanders—six of these were appointed by the King of Denmark, the other six being elected by the people. The Lower House consisted of twenty-four members, all Icelanders, and all elected by the people. Each House had a President, who was elected by the members. The President had no vote, so in the Upper House the Icelanders always tried to elect a President from the members appointed by the King of Denmark in order to give the people's representatives a majority of six votes to five. The Governor, an Icelander appointed by the King, to whom he was answerable, had the right to sit in each House; he occupied a seat beside the presidential chair. The members of each House were elected forthree sessions; but as the Houses met in every alternate year only, there was an election but once in six years. A Prime Minister was appointed by the King of Denmark, but he did not sit in either House; in fact, the Minister of two years ago had never been in Iceland. He was a Dane, residing in Copenhagen and knowing nothing of Iceland or its requirements except from report. The Prime Minister resembled our Colonial Secretary in his relations with our Colonies, though there was a difference in that he wasnominallyanswerable to the Icelandic Althing as well as to the King of Denmark. Bills were presented in either House by the whole House, by a section of the House, or by an individual member. The Bills were read three times, and the House might go into Committee on a Bill at any time. The Committee might consist of three, five, or seven members in the Upper House—it was more often three and five—and of three, five, seven, or nine in the Lower House. Either House might reject a Bill passed by the other House. The King of Denmark, acting on the advice of the Icelandic Prime Minister, used to approve a Bill passed by both Houses, when it became law.
In the Althing there are no parties as we know them, for all the members are united on high politics, are republican in their feeling, and most anxious to retain their independence of action. The members often have differences of opinion about a particular Bill, of course. The session used to last for eight weeks only, and during that period the Houses sat daily (Sunday excepted), often having two sittings a day. The members assembled at mid-day, and if thebusiness was not got through by four, they adjourned and met again at five. As the Althing met but once in two years, and the session was so short, there was a gap of a year and ten months when legislation was at a standstill. During that period, however, the members were often in communication one with another, and any Bills that it was desirable should be presented to the Althing at the next session were discussed in that way. The press was also the medium for the discussion of desirable legislation. As some of the members contributed to and wrote for the newspapers, the pros and cons of a particular Bill were often pretty well thrashed out before being presented to the Althing. Local affairs were managed by Sysselmen, or sheriffs, who had great powers vested in them.
When our party broke up, as it did the next day, I went on board theBothniato see off those who were leaving Iceland. The whole party had pulled so well together, and had been so successful, that we separated with feelings of regret that all could not proceed on further travels in the west of the island.
The day after the departure of those leaving Iceland, Miss Hastie and I visited Engey Island, one of the homes of the eider duck. On landing from a rowing-boat that had been hired to convey us from Reykjavik, a distance of two to three miles, we were delayed for a while by a heavy shower of rain. When it had abated we could find no one at the wharf able to speak English, so we made our way to the house of the owner of the island, for we had been informed at Reykjavik that we should find some one at Engey to point out the resorts of the ducks. We found therea young girl who could speak English very well. On learning our desires she at once offered to conduct us to the ducks, and led the way, accompanied by a sister, over a series of slippery stones and rough hummocks, to the ducks' nesting-ground. The season was almost over, so we did not see many birds in the nests. Most of the eggs had been hatched, and the parents had departed with their young, or else were swimming about in the waters around the island. Nevertheless a few birds still remained in their nests, and we found them comparatively tame; they were not quite undisturbed by our presence, though, for they moved away a few yards in an agitated state, leaving their young to blunder and stumble about all around. In vain we tried to keep the ducklings from wandering, but they would struggle out of the nest time after time, the mother walking round us the while with a watchful eye upon her brood. It is said that the down which the old birds pluck from their breasts to line the nests may be removed two or three times before they abandon them. Some of the nests, which were in the hollows between the hummocks, had bad eggs in them; so that, unless care was taken in moving from one hummock to another, a bad odour might make us aware that we had taken a false step. On returning to the house, the girls who had accompanied us showed the process of cleaning the eider-down. It is taken in handfuls and rubbed over a wire grating: the down clings to the wires, while the dirt falls through; the grating is reversed from time to time, and the down removed from the wires and rubbed repeatedly until properly cleaned and freed from dirt and foreign substances.
CHAPTER XIIN THE WEST—TO REYKHOLTWe spent two days at Reykjavik before renewing our journeyings. We were a much reduced party, for instead of eleven persons in all, we only mustered five when, on the third day from our arrival at the capital, we set out once more. Miss Hastie and myself were all that remained of the old party, but we were joined by a young Icelandic medical student, Jón Rosenkranz, while we were accompanied by our old conductor as "guide, philosopher, and friend," and Hannes as guide. Jón we soon found to be of a sportive nature, and he never seemed happier than when something was not going right. When any of the pack strayed, he seemed to be quite in his element, for he would settle into his saddle with a bump and go helter-skelter over the country after the straying ones. Hannes was his especial butt, and though Hannes himself was a mine of dry humour, yet he at times took things very seriously, and it was then that Jón was in good form; his eyes would sparkle, and he would slyly endeavour to "take a rise" out of Hannes, though Hannes, as a rule, was quite equal to the occasion.We were bound once more for the interior, and expected to get well up towards the lakes of Arnarvatnsheithi, to visit the Caves at Surtshellir, and to see the western side of Lang Jökull, where we should again enter the uninhabited desert. The greater portion of our journey, though, would be among the western farms, in country rich in folklore and made famous in the Sagas.Our way lay for several miles along the Thingvellir road, then we turned off to the left and skirted the fjord for a mile or two, soon, however, striking inland away from the coast. We passed at the foot of Lagafell, a rather striking mountain having an abrupt escarpment, and proceeded thence through grassy country to Mosfell. Soon after getting clear of Reykjavik we were met by one of our old guides, Thorlakur, who accompanied us to Mosfell, where he possessed a farm, which lay on the hillside overlooking a green plain well besprinkled with cotton grass. After lunch we went up to Thorlakur's farm, and made the acquaintance of his wife and two little girls, who entertained us to coffee. I took two photographs of the family: one showing the dwelling—a typical western farm-house of the better class—and the other with Thorlakur on his pony, and showing a tuff-capped and protected hill in the background. The grass on this farm was very thick, and in the plain below the cotton grass was so abundant that it looked as if a number of white sheets had been spread over the green.THORLAKUR AND HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN AT HIS FARM-HOUSE.After taking leave of Thorlakur and his family, we proceeded on our way, making a gradual ascent until reaching a spot overlooking a stream, beyond whichthere were some peculiarly-shaped brownish hills that presented a somewhat castellated appearance—from the distance it was difficult to judge whether they were volcanic necks, or liparite or tuff formations. On the way the weather, which had been quite fine to the time of our arrival at Mosfell, gradually changed: we could see the moisture condensing on the mountains away to our left and straight ahead, and were much struck with the peculiar way in which the mists hung over the hills and left a valley quite clear. From the spot overlooking the stream just mentioned, we descended into the valley and crossed the river, the Leiruvogsá; then we commenced the ascent of a long, steep track up the hillsides, between Skalafell on the east and the great mass of the mountain Esja on the west, towards the pass knownas Svinaskarth. Beyond the river, we entered the region where the moisture was rapidly condensing, and made our way up the path in a perfect deluge of rain. We passed hundreds of small streams and rivulets that came down the mountain sides across our path. We did not mind the rain, for we were clad in oilskins, and the weather was not cold—there was a great difference in temperature from that of the interior and between the ice-fields: it seemed milder, as indeed it was, and the rain did not strike so cold. We were experiencing the difference due to the warmer winds from the south and south-west, and to the effect of the North Atlantic Drift, a continuation of the Gulf Stream. One peak of Esja to the left was a sharp-pointed brown cone of liparite, and it stood out as a prominent feature as we ascended. The pass was very steep in places, and had a number of abrupt turns in it, and there were many views that would have made fine pictures for the camera in clearer weather. Descending the pass into the valley of the Sviná (Svinadal) the gradient was rather severe, so we dismounted and led our ponies down the steepest parts to relieve them from our weight for a while. A very noticeable feature in Svinadal was the number of streams that emerged from the mountain sides, from beneath the lava flows, and then ran down in a series of cascades to join the river Sviná in the valley. We followed this river to its confluence with the Laxá, which flows for a short distance through a quantity of outcropping lava,roches moutonnéesagain, whose rounded and smoothed surfaces stand as evidence that ice once filled the valley. Thence we proceeded along the valley of theLaxá (Laxadal) beside the river and through a quantity of moraine matter to Reynivellir, passing the volcanic cone of Sandfell to the right. Along the sides of this valley the straight lines of the lava flows can be traced for miles dipping but very slightly inland from the fjord (Laxavogr), which we were then in sight of.We arrived at Reynivellir on Saturday evening and stayed there till Monday. The weather was not good, and excepting on Sunday evening, when there was a break that caused some very fine cloud-effects, it rained almost incessantly. Our first camp was made here, but as through a misunderstanding only one tent had been brought, which Miss Hastie used, the rest of the party had to make shift in another way. I elected to use the church as my place of residence, and had my bed rigged up in the loft or gallery; this loft was a veritable storehouse, so out of curiosity I made a rough inventory of the articles I found. Besides several boxes and sea-chests, there was hanging from a number of hooks a wardrobe that would have clothed about half-a-dozen persons of both sexes; then there were some large lockers, ranged along the side of the loft, that were filled with wool; a number of agricultural implements, a rocking armchair, and two forms completed the list.The Icelanders are very hospitable, and travellers are made welcome. Every farmer who can afford it has one or two guest-chambers that are placed at the disposal of any one passing through. On arrival at the farm the traveller is invited to partake of coffee. When this is served in the best room of the house, the farmer and his wife join the new arrivals in alight meal, consisting of excellent coffee, and fancy pastry of equally excellent quality. Some of the Icelandic women are very good pastry-cooks, and the cakes and pastry they produce often equal in quality any that could be procured at a first-class London confectioner's.At Reynivellir there are a farm-house and a church. The churches are either Athalkirkja (principal church) or Annexia (farmers' church), and that at Reynivellir is Athalkirkja. The clergy are appointed and paid by the Government; but they have farms which add to their incomes. The religion of the Icelanders is Lutheran. Service was held in the church at Reynivellir on the Sunday morning while we were there, and all the members of our party attended it. The minister was attired in black robes, which he wore with a white ruff and flattened hat; he looked exactly as if he had just stepped out of a Velasquez picture, for his face and dress were quite typical. It is a peculiarity of the Icelandic services that the members of the congregation come and go just as they please; evidently they consider the service of too long duration, for many leave the church and absent themselves for periods varying up to fifteen minutes. I inquired why, and was informed that the Icelanders being used to open-air life, could not remain still and cooped up for any length of time, so they left while the service was in progress, in order to stretch their legs and occasionally to have a smoke. They were quite regardless of the time of commencement of the service, and came in at any time during its progress. The sexes did not seem to mix, for the men were seated, most of them, in the chancel around the pulpit,while the body of the church was occupied by the women, though a few men sat in the seats right at the back.The rain continued to the time of our departure from Reynivellir, for we set out on Monday in a depressing drizzle. We had a very stiff climb by a zigzag path up the side of the Reynivallahals mountain, a flat-topped range having the valley of the Laxá on one side and the waters of Hvalfjord on the other. After crossing the highest part of the ridge, we gradually descended to the water of Hvalfjord, passing Fossá, where there is a small waterfall in a ravine, close by a wooden bridge that spans it. There was a good view from Fossá over Hvalfjord and to the head of one branch of it. To this branch we descended by a long slope on the steep mountain side, and then passed round the head of the arm, where the Brgnjudalsá runs into it over a ledge of basalt. We could not help being struck with the two bold scarped ends of the mountain ranges that come down to the fjord: Muláfjall between the two branches, and Thyrill beyond. After crossing the Brgnjudalsá, we rounded the first headland, and proceeded for some distance along the second arm of the fjord till we came to a black sandy beach, which was then covered with about six inches of water. This was fully a mile from the head of the fjord, but we crossed at this point, the ponies splashing through the water as if they enjoyed that part of the journey—and doubtless they did. Our way then lay at the foot of the great escarpment of the Thyrill mountains, a range that has been carved by the weather into wondrous fantastic shapes, the end presenting amagnificent castellated appearance—a fine solid block resting on a sloping base.THE THYRILL MOUNTAINS.One of the Sagas relates how the Thyrill family some nine hundred years ago resided on the small island of Greirsholmi, which was probably much bigger than it is at the present time. They had a feud with another family, who invaded the island; but the Thyrills had received warning of the approach of the enemy, and they escaped to the peninsula of Thyrillsnes, where a sanguinary battle was fought. All the Thyrills were slain except one woman who had been left on the island, and she escaped by swimming to the mainland with her baby son; she then ascended the castellated end of the Thyrill mountains and escaped through the gap between the two blocks into which it is divided. It is said thatwhen the son grew up, he wreaked vengeance upon the family that had almost exterminated his own.From Thyrill we proceeded along the shore of Hvalfjord for two or three miles, and on looking back, the end of the Thyrill mountains presented a remarkably fine appearance. From a base of lava and tuff, with a talus slope above, there rose the main castellated block composed of upright columns of basalt. Looking the other way towards the sea, the block of mountains known as Akrafjall, round which the fjord bends, stands as a striking feature in the landscape.On leaving the coast we climbed some liparite and tuff rises, and then passed over a range of hills (Ferstikluhals) northward. From the divide we had a very good view over the country ahead; in a valley below there were three lakes having an outlet for their water through Svinadal, by the river Laxá, into a small fjord named Leirárvogar—this must not be confounded with the Laxá already mentioned. It should be noted that the same name is often applied to more than one mountain, river, or town, and confusion as to the geographical position may arise unless it is clearly understood which of those bearing the same name is indicated; for instance, Mosfell (mossy mountain) is applied to several mountains, Hvitá (white river) to several rivers, and Stathr (a homestead) to several villages or farm-houses of note. We skirted two of the lakes in the valley and then passed between the last two, where Hannes made a deal in trout with a man who was fishing in a stream connecting the two lakes. We made our way through rain, which had justrecommenced after a fairly fine interval lasting during most of the day's journey, to the head of the third lake, where we found quarters for the night at the farm-house of Draghals. Miss Hastie occupied her tent as usual; but I, not liking the guest-chamber because it was absolutely devoid of ventilation,—the windows were fixed in their frames and could not be opened,—took up my quarters in a drying-shed, a large and airy enclosure running along two sides of the house, which was a fair-sized galvanised iron structure. Beside this modern excrescence there stood the old wooden-fronted, turf-walled, and grass-roofed buildings that were formerly used as the dwelling-house, but were then converted into kitchen and dairy buildings—ancient and modern were side by side.MISS HASTIE TROUT-FISHING.There were some pretty scenes on the river Draghalsá, an interesting stream having a number of hard and soft dykes cut through by the water that descends in a series of waterfalls to a pool, the overflow from which runs into the lake close by. Both pool and stream afford sport for fishermen, and Miss Hastie and Jón got quite a good basket of trout there. I was less fortunate; but as I did not commence until the others had finished, I concluded that they had caught all the fish in the stream and had left none for me to catch—but I am not a fisherman, so lack of skill may have had something to do with the small success met with.TYPICAL ICELANDIC FARMERS.The people here were typical Icelandic farmers, and the photographs I took give a very good idea of them. They are not altogether devoid of humour, and enjoyed my photographing our "guide, philosopher, and friend," whom I caught sharpening a knife at a grindstone. He was quite unconscious that I wasimmortalising him, but the onlooking Icelanders grasped the point of the situation, and their appreciation of it was expressed in their faces, which were turned towards me as I took a snapshot at the group.On leaving Draghals late in the afternoon we climbed the hills to the north and came in sight of a fine sheet of water about ten miles long. This is Skorradalsvatn; it is not very broad, being less than two miles at its widest part. Just after passing the divide we came upon a fine waterfall at a spot where the waters of one of the mountain streams fall a sheer hundred feet into a deep pool below. There are two very fine gorges here, and they join at the confluence of two streams that then flow by a meandering course to the lake. The delta of this river has spread half-way across the lake, where the width is gradually narrowing; in course of time it will extend right across, and cut the water into two portions. We then skirted the lake to its head, rounding it just where it narrows to a river, which flows on as the Audakilsá towards Borgarfjord. Just beyond the river we came to the farm-house of Grund, where we took up our quarters.We remained at Grund a whole day in order that the fishermen might again try their skill with the rod, and they were successful in catching a number of trout. It rained heavily during the afternoon, which was very annoying, for it prevented me from going to explore the mountains of Skarthsheithi and the vicinity—a pity, for the group looks a most interesting one. Facing Grund they form a sort of semicircle, a vast corrie having a yellowish-brown hill in the middle, a liparite mound; to the left ofthe semicircle there is another brownish mountain that is evidently a series of alternations of tuff and liparite. On the face of the mountains in the centre there are two small glaciers, while to the right there is a remarkable stepped pyramid that shows most distinctly the lava flows—flow above flow being lined out and stepped in the profile, the parallel lines being distinctly marked not only on the pyramid but also round the semicircle.At Grund we lost our "guide, philosopher, and friend," whose engagements required his presence in Reykjavik in the course of the next few days. In the early morning he departed, and thenceforth we had to look to Hannes for guidance. Two or three hours after his departure we set out for Reykholt. Our way lay over some rough rising lava flows at the back of the farm-house, and these we ascended to the divide, whence we had a fine view of the valley of the Hvitá. It was fertile-looking country, but the land is not cultivated; grass is the only thing grown, for the sun has not sufficient strength to ripen grain of any kind. Haymaking was in full swing just then, and we saw the haymakers at work on all the farms as we passed by. Beyond the Hvitá valley a long range of mountains stretches from near the sea far inland, the most prominent in the chain being a conical peak (Baula) some fifteen to twenty miles distant.After crossing the river Grimsá we entered a stretch of country composed of many alluvial river terraces. Terrace above terrace had been formed in succession by the Hvitá and several of its branches that we crossed in the course of the day, namely, theGrimsá, the Flokadalsá, the Reykjadalsá, and others. Between the two last named rivers we had lunch beside the farm-house of Kropprmuli. From the Reykjadalsá we proceeded to some hot springs, Tunguhver, close beside the river. These springs emerge from the side of a small hillock, where they bubble and boil over, and spurt jets a few feet into the air; the water comes down the hillside in a series of small waterfalls or cascades. Great volumes of steam rose from the springs, and unfortunately the wind was blowing it in such a way as to obscure the whole of the springs, except for an occasional glimpse when the steam was swirled aside by a strong gust. At one end of the hill, however, where the springs were very active, the steam was partly blown away from us, and we saw several of them in violent ebullition. On leaving this spot we made our way up the valley of the Reykjadalsá, a river that we crossed nine times in less than the same number of miles. At a spot close by one of our crossings there was, in the middle of the river, a small mound that is often the scene of eruptive violence; it was the site of the geyser, Arhver, which plays at intervals of several days—weeks sometimes, throwing a small stream of water high into the air, sometimes twenty feet or more.At Reykholt, where we put up for the night, there are a church, parsonage, and farm. The minister was at home, and he came out to receive us as we clattered into the space in front of the parsonage. He was a big, broad-shouldered man, as broad in mind as in person, and capable of regarding things in a large way. He welcomed us in courtly fashion,and as he spoke good English we at once got on excellent terms with him. An invitation to coffee was of course accepted, and we were entertained by the minister and his wife, a woman in striking contrast to our host in point of size, for she was quite small and slim.The Reykholt parsonage is on the site of the house of Snorri Sturluson, the historian, who lived nearly seven hundred years ago. Just below the house, and less than a hundred yards distant from it, there is a hot spring known as Skriflir, which seems to have been in existence in Snorri's time, for rather nearer to the house there is a bath that is said to have been constructed by him. It is connected to the spring by an aqueduct, also ascribed to Snorri. The water on issuing from the spring is boiling, and when it reaches the bath it has lost but little of its original heat, consequently it is impossible to bathe at once. When any one requires a tub, the water is run into it from the spring over-night, then in the morning the temperature is just delightfully warm. This bath was built in twelve hundred and something; and as Snorri died in 1241, it is not much short of seven hundred years old. A large iron cauldron that stood just close to the spring served as the laundry, for the family washing was done there. Hot springs are often utilised in this way. At Reykjavik, the capital, the whole of the washing of the town is done at a hot spring, the Laug, just outside the town, and daily numbers of women are to be seen going and returning with their wooden wash-tubs on their backs.The Reykholt church was the largest that we hadseen away from the towns. The minister informed me that sometimes he had as many as two hundred persons in his congregation, the number varying between that and one hundred. His parish was a large one, there being thirty-five farms included in it. The parsonage was one of the prettiest imaginable, for its grassy roofs and sides were covered with a profusion of camomile flowers. I took photographs of front and back, but they give only a faint idea of the original, devoid as they are of colour.In the valley of the Reykjadalsá just below Reykholt there is a very thick growth of peat; down by the river it was laid bare for a thickness of more than twelve feet, the thickest seam I saw in Iceland.
IN THE WEST—TO REYKHOLT
We spent two days at Reykjavik before renewing our journeyings. We were a much reduced party, for instead of eleven persons in all, we only mustered five when, on the third day from our arrival at the capital, we set out once more. Miss Hastie and myself were all that remained of the old party, but we were joined by a young Icelandic medical student, Jón Rosenkranz, while we were accompanied by our old conductor as "guide, philosopher, and friend," and Hannes as guide. Jón we soon found to be of a sportive nature, and he never seemed happier than when something was not going right. When any of the pack strayed, he seemed to be quite in his element, for he would settle into his saddle with a bump and go helter-skelter over the country after the straying ones. Hannes was his especial butt, and though Hannes himself was a mine of dry humour, yet he at times took things very seriously, and it was then that Jón was in good form; his eyes would sparkle, and he would slyly endeavour to "take a rise" out of Hannes, though Hannes, as a rule, was quite equal to the occasion.
We were bound once more for the interior, and expected to get well up towards the lakes of Arnarvatnsheithi, to visit the Caves at Surtshellir, and to see the western side of Lang Jökull, where we should again enter the uninhabited desert. The greater portion of our journey, though, would be among the western farms, in country rich in folklore and made famous in the Sagas.
Our way lay for several miles along the Thingvellir road, then we turned off to the left and skirted the fjord for a mile or two, soon, however, striking inland away from the coast. We passed at the foot of Lagafell, a rather striking mountain having an abrupt escarpment, and proceeded thence through grassy country to Mosfell. Soon after getting clear of Reykjavik we were met by one of our old guides, Thorlakur, who accompanied us to Mosfell, where he possessed a farm, which lay on the hillside overlooking a green plain well besprinkled with cotton grass. After lunch we went up to Thorlakur's farm, and made the acquaintance of his wife and two little girls, who entertained us to coffee. I took two photographs of the family: one showing the dwelling—a typical western farm-house of the better class—and the other with Thorlakur on his pony, and showing a tuff-capped and protected hill in the background. The grass on this farm was very thick, and in the plain below the cotton grass was so abundant that it looked as if a number of white sheets had been spread over the green.
THORLAKUR AND HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN AT HIS FARM-HOUSE.
THORLAKUR AND HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN AT HIS FARM-HOUSE.
THORLAKUR AND HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN AT HIS FARM-HOUSE.
After taking leave of Thorlakur and his family, we proceeded on our way, making a gradual ascent until reaching a spot overlooking a stream, beyond whichthere were some peculiarly-shaped brownish hills that presented a somewhat castellated appearance—from the distance it was difficult to judge whether they were volcanic necks, or liparite or tuff formations. On the way the weather, which had been quite fine to the time of our arrival at Mosfell, gradually changed: we could see the moisture condensing on the mountains away to our left and straight ahead, and were much struck with the peculiar way in which the mists hung over the hills and left a valley quite clear. From the spot overlooking the stream just mentioned, we descended into the valley and crossed the river, the Leiruvogsá; then we commenced the ascent of a long, steep track up the hillsides, between Skalafell on the east and the great mass of the mountain Esja on the west, towards the pass knownas Svinaskarth. Beyond the river, we entered the region where the moisture was rapidly condensing, and made our way up the path in a perfect deluge of rain. We passed hundreds of small streams and rivulets that came down the mountain sides across our path. We did not mind the rain, for we were clad in oilskins, and the weather was not cold—there was a great difference in temperature from that of the interior and between the ice-fields: it seemed milder, as indeed it was, and the rain did not strike so cold. We were experiencing the difference due to the warmer winds from the south and south-west, and to the effect of the North Atlantic Drift, a continuation of the Gulf Stream. One peak of Esja to the left was a sharp-pointed brown cone of liparite, and it stood out as a prominent feature as we ascended. The pass was very steep in places, and had a number of abrupt turns in it, and there were many views that would have made fine pictures for the camera in clearer weather. Descending the pass into the valley of the Sviná (Svinadal) the gradient was rather severe, so we dismounted and led our ponies down the steepest parts to relieve them from our weight for a while. A very noticeable feature in Svinadal was the number of streams that emerged from the mountain sides, from beneath the lava flows, and then ran down in a series of cascades to join the river Sviná in the valley. We followed this river to its confluence with the Laxá, which flows for a short distance through a quantity of outcropping lava,roches moutonnéesagain, whose rounded and smoothed surfaces stand as evidence that ice once filled the valley. Thence we proceeded along the valley of theLaxá (Laxadal) beside the river and through a quantity of moraine matter to Reynivellir, passing the volcanic cone of Sandfell to the right. Along the sides of this valley the straight lines of the lava flows can be traced for miles dipping but very slightly inland from the fjord (Laxavogr), which we were then in sight of.
We arrived at Reynivellir on Saturday evening and stayed there till Monday. The weather was not good, and excepting on Sunday evening, when there was a break that caused some very fine cloud-effects, it rained almost incessantly. Our first camp was made here, but as through a misunderstanding only one tent had been brought, which Miss Hastie used, the rest of the party had to make shift in another way. I elected to use the church as my place of residence, and had my bed rigged up in the loft or gallery; this loft was a veritable storehouse, so out of curiosity I made a rough inventory of the articles I found. Besides several boxes and sea-chests, there was hanging from a number of hooks a wardrobe that would have clothed about half-a-dozen persons of both sexes; then there were some large lockers, ranged along the side of the loft, that were filled with wool; a number of agricultural implements, a rocking armchair, and two forms completed the list.
The Icelanders are very hospitable, and travellers are made welcome. Every farmer who can afford it has one or two guest-chambers that are placed at the disposal of any one passing through. On arrival at the farm the traveller is invited to partake of coffee. When this is served in the best room of the house, the farmer and his wife join the new arrivals in alight meal, consisting of excellent coffee, and fancy pastry of equally excellent quality. Some of the Icelandic women are very good pastry-cooks, and the cakes and pastry they produce often equal in quality any that could be procured at a first-class London confectioner's.
At Reynivellir there are a farm-house and a church. The churches are either Athalkirkja (principal church) or Annexia (farmers' church), and that at Reynivellir is Athalkirkja. The clergy are appointed and paid by the Government; but they have farms which add to their incomes. The religion of the Icelanders is Lutheran. Service was held in the church at Reynivellir on the Sunday morning while we were there, and all the members of our party attended it. The minister was attired in black robes, which he wore with a white ruff and flattened hat; he looked exactly as if he had just stepped out of a Velasquez picture, for his face and dress were quite typical. It is a peculiarity of the Icelandic services that the members of the congregation come and go just as they please; evidently they consider the service of too long duration, for many leave the church and absent themselves for periods varying up to fifteen minutes. I inquired why, and was informed that the Icelanders being used to open-air life, could not remain still and cooped up for any length of time, so they left while the service was in progress, in order to stretch their legs and occasionally to have a smoke. They were quite regardless of the time of commencement of the service, and came in at any time during its progress. The sexes did not seem to mix, for the men were seated, most of them, in the chancel around the pulpit,while the body of the church was occupied by the women, though a few men sat in the seats right at the back.
The rain continued to the time of our departure from Reynivellir, for we set out on Monday in a depressing drizzle. We had a very stiff climb by a zigzag path up the side of the Reynivallahals mountain, a flat-topped range having the valley of the Laxá on one side and the waters of Hvalfjord on the other. After crossing the highest part of the ridge, we gradually descended to the water of Hvalfjord, passing Fossá, where there is a small waterfall in a ravine, close by a wooden bridge that spans it. There was a good view from Fossá over Hvalfjord and to the head of one branch of it. To this branch we descended by a long slope on the steep mountain side, and then passed round the head of the arm, where the Brgnjudalsá runs into it over a ledge of basalt. We could not help being struck with the two bold scarped ends of the mountain ranges that come down to the fjord: Muláfjall between the two branches, and Thyrill beyond. After crossing the Brgnjudalsá, we rounded the first headland, and proceeded for some distance along the second arm of the fjord till we came to a black sandy beach, which was then covered with about six inches of water. This was fully a mile from the head of the fjord, but we crossed at this point, the ponies splashing through the water as if they enjoyed that part of the journey—and doubtless they did. Our way then lay at the foot of the great escarpment of the Thyrill mountains, a range that has been carved by the weather into wondrous fantastic shapes, the end presenting amagnificent castellated appearance—a fine solid block resting on a sloping base.
THE THYRILL MOUNTAINS.
THE THYRILL MOUNTAINS.
THE THYRILL MOUNTAINS.
One of the Sagas relates how the Thyrill family some nine hundred years ago resided on the small island of Greirsholmi, which was probably much bigger than it is at the present time. They had a feud with another family, who invaded the island; but the Thyrills had received warning of the approach of the enemy, and they escaped to the peninsula of Thyrillsnes, where a sanguinary battle was fought. All the Thyrills were slain except one woman who had been left on the island, and she escaped by swimming to the mainland with her baby son; she then ascended the castellated end of the Thyrill mountains and escaped through the gap between the two blocks into which it is divided. It is said thatwhen the son grew up, he wreaked vengeance upon the family that had almost exterminated his own.
From Thyrill we proceeded along the shore of Hvalfjord for two or three miles, and on looking back, the end of the Thyrill mountains presented a remarkably fine appearance. From a base of lava and tuff, with a talus slope above, there rose the main castellated block composed of upright columns of basalt. Looking the other way towards the sea, the block of mountains known as Akrafjall, round which the fjord bends, stands as a striking feature in the landscape.
On leaving the coast we climbed some liparite and tuff rises, and then passed over a range of hills (Ferstikluhals) northward. From the divide we had a very good view over the country ahead; in a valley below there were three lakes having an outlet for their water through Svinadal, by the river Laxá, into a small fjord named Leirárvogar—this must not be confounded with the Laxá already mentioned. It should be noted that the same name is often applied to more than one mountain, river, or town, and confusion as to the geographical position may arise unless it is clearly understood which of those bearing the same name is indicated; for instance, Mosfell (mossy mountain) is applied to several mountains, Hvitá (white river) to several rivers, and Stathr (a homestead) to several villages or farm-houses of note. We skirted two of the lakes in the valley and then passed between the last two, where Hannes made a deal in trout with a man who was fishing in a stream connecting the two lakes. We made our way through rain, which had justrecommenced after a fairly fine interval lasting during most of the day's journey, to the head of the third lake, where we found quarters for the night at the farm-house of Draghals. Miss Hastie occupied her tent as usual; but I, not liking the guest-chamber because it was absolutely devoid of ventilation,—the windows were fixed in their frames and could not be opened,—took up my quarters in a drying-shed, a large and airy enclosure running along two sides of the house, which was a fair-sized galvanised iron structure. Beside this modern excrescence there stood the old wooden-fronted, turf-walled, and grass-roofed buildings that were formerly used as the dwelling-house, but were then converted into kitchen and dairy buildings—ancient and modern were side by side.
MISS HASTIE TROUT-FISHING.
MISS HASTIE TROUT-FISHING.
MISS HASTIE TROUT-FISHING.
There were some pretty scenes on the river Draghalsá, an interesting stream having a number of hard and soft dykes cut through by the water that descends in a series of waterfalls to a pool, the overflow from which runs into the lake close by. Both pool and stream afford sport for fishermen, and Miss Hastie and Jón got quite a good basket of trout there. I was less fortunate; but as I did not commence until the others had finished, I concluded that they had caught all the fish in the stream and had left none for me to catch—but I am not a fisherman, so lack of skill may have had something to do with the small success met with.
TYPICAL ICELANDIC FARMERS.
TYPICAL ICELANDIC FARMERS.
TYPICAL ICELANDIC FARMERS.
The people here were typical Icelandic farmers, and the photographs I took give a very good idea of them. They are not altogether devoid of humour, and enjoyed my photographing our "guide, philosopher, and friend," whom I caught sharpening a knife at a grindstone. He was quite unconscious that I wasimmortalising him, but the onlooking Icelanders grasped the point of the situation, and their appreciation of it was expressed in their faces, which were turned towards me as I took a snapshot at the group.
On leaving Draghals late in the afternoon we climbed the hills to the north and came in sight of a fine sheet of water about ten miles long. This is Skorradalsvatn; it is not very broad, being less than two miles at its widest part. Just after passing the divide we came upon a fine waterfall at a spot where the waters of one of the mountain streams fall a sheer hundred feet into a deep pool below. There are two very fine gorges here, and they join at the confluence of two streams that then flow by a meandering course to the lake. The delta of this river has spread half-way across the lake, where the width is gradually narrowing; in course of time it will extend right across, and cut the water into two portions. We then skirted the lake to its head, rounding it just where it narrows to a river, which flows on as the Audakilsá towards Borgarfjord. Just beyond the river we came to the farm-house of Grund, where we took up our quarters.
We remained at Grund a whole day in order that the fishermen might again try their skill with the rod, and they were successful in catching a number of trout. It rained heavily during the afternoon, which was very annoying, for it prevented me from going to explore the mountains of Skarthsheithi and the vicinity—a pity, for the group looks a most interesting one. Facing Grund they form a sort of semicircle, a vast corrie having a yellowish-brown hill in the middle, a liparite mound; to the left ofthe semicircle there is another brownish mountain that is evidently a series of alternations of tuff and liparite. On the face of the mountains in the centre there are two small glaciers, while to the right there is a remarkable stepped pyramid that shows most distinctly the lava flows—flow above flow being lined out and stepped in the profile, the parallel lines being distinctly marked not only on the pyramid but also round the semicircle.
At Grund we lost our "guide, philosopher, and friend," whose engagements required his presence in Reykjavik in the course of the next few days. In the early morning he departed, and thenceforth we had to look to Hannes for guidance. Two or three hours after his departure we set out for Reykholt. Our way lay over some rough rising lava flows at the back of the farm-house, and these we ascended to the divide, whence we had a fine view of the valley of the Hvitá. It was fertile-looking country, but the land is not cultivated; grass is the only thing grown, for the sun has not sufficient strength to ripen grain of any kind. Haymaking was in full swing just then, and we saw the haymakers at work on all the farms as we passed by. Beyond the Hvitá valley a long range of mountains stretches from near the sea far inland, the most prominent in the chain being a conical peak (Baula) some fifteen to twenty miles distant.
After crossing the river Grimsá we entered a stretch of country composed of many alluvial river terraces. Terrace above terrace had been formed in succession by the Hvitá and several of its branches that we crossed in the course of the day, namely, theGrimsá, the Flokadalsá, the Reykjadalsá, and others. Between the two last named rivers we had lunch beside the farm-house of Kropprmuli. From the Reykjadalsá we proceeded to some hot springs, Tunguhver, close beside the river. These springs emerge from the side of a small hillock, where they bubble and boil over, and spurt jets a few feet into the air; the water comes down the hillside in a series of small waterfalls or cascades. Great volumes of steam rose from the springs, and unfortunately the wind was blowing it in such a way as to obscure the whole of the springs, except for an occasional glimpse when the steam was swirled aside by a strong gust. At one end of the hill, however, where the springs were very active, the steam was partly blown away from us, and we saw several of them in violent ebullition. On leaving this spot we made our way up the valley of the Reykjadalsá, a river that we crossed nine times in less than the same number of miles. At a spot close by one of our crossings there was, in the middle of the river, a small mound that is often the scene of eruptive violence; it was the site of the geyser, Arhver, which plays at intervals of several days—weeks sometimes, throwing a small stream of water high into the air, sometimes twenty feet or more.
At Reykholt, where we put up for the night, there are a church, parsonage, and farm. The minister was at home, and he came out to receive us as we clattered into the space in front of the parsonage. He was a big, broad-shouldered man, as broad in mind as in person, and capable of regarding things in a large way. He welcomed us in courtly fashion,and as he spoke good English we at once got on excellent terms with him. An invitation to coffee was of course accepted, and we were entertained by the minister and his wife, a woman in striking contrast to our host in point of size, for she was quite small and slim.
The Reykholt parsonage is on the site of the house of Snorri Sturluson, the historian, who lived nearly seven hundred years ago. Just below the house, and less than a hundred yards distant from it, there is a hot spring known as Skriflir, which seems to have been in existence in Snorri's time, for rather nearer to the house there is a bath that is said to have been constructed by him. It is connected to the spring by an aqueduct, also ascribed to Snorri. The water on issuing from the spring is boiling, and when it reaches the bath it has lost but little of its original heat, consequently it is impossible to bathe at once. When any one requires a tub, the water is run into it from the spring over-night, then in the morning the temperature is just delightfully warm. This bath was built in twelve hundred and something; and as Snorri died in 1241, it is not much short of seven hundred years old. A large iron cauldron that stood just close to the spring served as the laundry, for the family washing was done there. Hot springs are often utilised in this way. At Reykjavik, the capital, the whole of the washing of the town is done at a hot spring, the Laug, just outside the town, and daily numbers of women are to be seen going and returning with their wooden wash-tubs on their backs.
The Reykholt church was the largest that we hadseen away from the towns. The minister informed me that sometimes he had as many as two hundred persons in his congregation, the number varying between that and one hundred. His parish was a large one, there being thirty-five farms included in it. The parsonage was one of the prettiest imaginable, for its grassy roofs and sides were covered with a profusion of camomile flowers. I took photographs of front and back, but they give only a faint idea of the original, devoid as they are of colour.
In the valley of the Reykjadalsá just below Reykholt there is a very thick growth of peat; down by the river it was laid bare for a thickness of more than twelve feet, the thickest seam I saw in Iceland.
CHAPTER XIIBARNAFOSS AND THE SURTSHELLIR CAVESThe sun had crossed the meridian next day before we left Reykholt. We had coffee with the minister and his wife, from whom we parted on the best possible terms; they and their children waved their adieux to us as we proceeded on our way up Reykholtsdal. We struck across towards the Hvitá, and soon came in sight of that river, a swift-flowing stream whose milky-white colour denoted that its source must be up in the snow-and ice-fields of the Jökulls. Along the Hvitá (white river) valley there were many evidences that the river had at one time been far wider, for up the valley sides several terraces marked levels at which alluvium had formerly been deposited. We lunched at Stori Ás, in view of the conical peaked mountain, Strutr, and Eyriks Jökull. We were then not far from the bridge that spans the Hvitá and affords communication between opposite sides of the river, so Miss Hastie and I walked on while Hannes and Jón were adjusting pack-saddles, etc. I came upon an interesting specimen of wind erosion at the top of a rise, where the sandy soil had been blown away from round a turf-covered mound. We passedthrough a small birch wood, but the trees were very diminutive, three to five feet being the average, with a few rather more; a photograph I took gives the impression of much greater height. On the opposite side of the river we could see recent lava, and on the hillside beyond, the farm-house of Gilsbakki. This lava had come from a considerable distance, for I traced its course from Gilsbakki, right away past the liparite mountain, Tunga, and beyond Strutr, where it divides and flows in two streams. This lava determines the courses of the principal rivers thereabouts, which flow along its edges.A FOREST NEAR BARNAFOSS.Just below the bridge a very remarkable sight is to be seen. For more than half a mile along the right bank of the river a series of cascades and waterfalls flow into it. The water issues from beneath thelava of which the steep bank is composed, and then flows down its side; it is a very striking proof of the great extent of some of the subterranean rivers. Just above the bridge there is a very fine fall in the Hvitá, known as Barnafoss; though fine, it cannot be compared with Gullfoss in grandeur, and the glory of this part of the river is the series of cascades on its right bank. The spot is supposed to have been named from the drowning of two children near the fall—Barnafoss, the children's waterfall; but the minister at Reykholt declared that the tale is not true, and that the name is more likely to have been corrupted from Bjarni, which is a man's name. It is worthy of note that the birch woods seem to flourish best in the decaying lava in the scoriaceous lava-fields; it also seems to do well in soil produced from liparite, forit grows high up on the east side of the liparite mountain, Tunga.THE CASCADES AT BARNAFOSS.At the Hvitá bridge the party split into two—Miss Hastie going on with Hannes to Gilsbakki, while Jón and I went along the left bank of the Hvitá past Husafell, thence onward across the river Kaldá, where we got among lava and birches. The birches were much of the same height as those in the Barnafoss wood, though I saw several that stood about seven to eight feet high. I took a photograph of one of them—one in which the wood had attained a thickness of some three or four inches; it was the finest specimen of a birch-tree that I saw in Iceland. There are bigger birches in the land, for I have seen a photograph of a clump of about a dozen that are over twenty feet in height, but they are in a particularly favoured spot on the eastern side of the island. I got Jón on his pony to stand while I photographed the wood through which we were passing, for it was a typical Icelandic forest. On crossing the next river, the Geitá, I found the lava much broken up and denuded, and there was spread over it a quantity of the alluvial pebbles that are brought down in times of heavy rains and melting ice by the rivers flowing from Lang Jökull—it is a sort of flood plain, in fact. This continued until we reached the Hvitá, but on the other side of it we once more found ourselves upon the unbroken rough lava. Close beside this river we came to a halt for the night at the farm-house of Kalmanstunga, which is situated in a very picturesque spot facing Lang Jökull, the glaciers and ice-fields of which are in full view; it has the liparite mountain, Tunga, and a portion of Eyriks Jökull on the right, and the extinct volcano, Strutr, on the left.In the morning I ascended the rising ground at the back of Kalmanstunga, and thence obtained an interesting view over the country. In the foreground beneath Lang Jökull a long valley filled with lava from beyond Strutr stretches away from left to right; two rivers flow down the valley, one on each side of the lava, which determines their course along its edges. The Hvitá flowed on the edge of the lava just at the foot of the hills whereon I stood; on the far side of the valley, on the other edge of the lava, the Geitá flowed at the foot of the outlying hills of Lang Jökull. Away to the right in the valley between the two rivers, towards their confluence, I could see the denuded alluvium-covered lava noticed on the way. This alluvial matter is deposited during floods, when the waters of the swollen rivers unite and flow over the lava as one.It was nearly mid-day before we got a start, for there had been delay over a very important matter. Jón had awakened me several hours earlier to inform me that there were no candles in the house! Now, candles would not seem to be a matter of much importance to us, considering that it was then broad daylight and that we had but little use for candles in the ordinary way, because daylight continued practically during the whole twenty-four hours; nor would the lack of them seem to be a thing to cause a delay in starting; but it was really the case, for we were about to proceed to the Surtshellir Caves, and candles were required to enable us to explore their passages. That being so, a messenger had tobe sent to the farm-house at Husafell, where a stock was generally kept for anybody wanting to visit the caves. The caves were distant about two hours' ride—one rarely mentions distance in the ordinary way when travelling in Iceland, because ten miles, say, might represent a journey of three or four hours, or the same distance might be traversed in little more than an hour in very favourable ground. After crossing the rise at the back of Kalmanstunga, we descended into the valley of the Northingafljot, a clear-water river having its source in a number of lakes of glacial origin known as Fiskivötn, lying beyond Eyriks Jökull. The valley is filled with lava from the same source as that on the Hvitá side of Strutr, whence I had just come. Here the lava is noted for the number and extent of the caves that underlie it. There is a sharp rise as the river is ascended, the stream in consequence being a swift one—so swift, indeed, that it has been able to carve a way through the lava, which it crosses from one side of the valley to the other, a very unusual thing. The upper portion flows on the western edge of the lava and at the foot of the hills on that side; while the lower, after crossing the lava, flows along by the eastern edge at the foot of the mountains Strutr and Tunga.THE NORTHINGAFLJOT CUTTING ACROSS THE LAVA.The caves at Surtshellir are remarkable for several things. Their origin is probably due to a big bubble formation, helped partly, perhaps, by a crust of lava being forced upward in the form of an arch by pressure acting from the sides; though there is no doubt that they have been much enlarged and deepened by the eroding action of flowing water.An underground river used to flow through the caves, but as it does not do so now, some lower channel has doubtless been found. There was evidence of lower caves beneath those visited, for on stamping on the ground in several places, distinctly hollow sounds were produced. The falls into the Hvitá at Barnafoss, which are only a few miles away, lie in the Surtshellir line of drainage, and are proof that very large quantities of water are still flowing underground in this neighbourhood; in fact, it is highly probable that a great deal of water from the numerous lakes, the Fiskivötn, on Arnarvatnsheithi, escapes underground. There are two entrances to the caves—one near what is known as the Bone Cave, the other close by the Icicle Cave. The caves are in a picturesque spot, and beyond the entrance thatwe used there lies the great ice-covered Eyriks Jökull, one of the highest mountains in Iceland. There is a depression in the lava at this spot—a double depression, in fact, for inner and outer rims indicate them very distinctly, and it is obvious that the opening in the caves is due to the falling in of part of the roof. Access to the caves is obtained by scrambling down the loose broken lava to an opening at the bottom. The photographs do not give much idea of the roughness of the "going"; from end to end, except in the Icicle Cave, where difficulties of another kind were met with, the floor of the caves was strewn with broken lava. The fragments that have become detached from the roof and now lie upon the floor are angular blocks of extreme raggednessand hardness, piled up in confused heaps that test quality of boots, strength of ankles, and toughness (or tenderness) of skin, to say nothing of the mysterious capability of hanging on "by one's eyelids" that is almost absolutely necessary in places.THE DOUBLE DEPRESSION IN THE LAVA AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES.IN THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES NEAR THE ENTRANCE, SHOWING THE WATER-WORN LINES.Jón and I were accompanied by the farmer from Kalmanstunga, a man acquainted with the caves, who had come with us in the capacity of guide. We scrambled down to the entrance and then lighted our candles. When once inside, there could be no doubt as to one of the causes of their existence or enlargement, for there along the sides of the caves, indicating the different levels of the old river, were numerous water-worn lines. The photograph shows this veryclearly; it also shows the lava fragment bestrewn floor, and the roof from which the fragments have fallen. We followed our guide into the main channel, but he soon turned to the left into a branch known as the Bone Cave, because of the number of animal remains (bones) that bestrew the floor. It is said that some twenty to thirty outlaws at one time occupied the cave, and that the bones are the remains of the sheep and oxen which the outlaws stole from the flocks and herds in the neighbourhood, and which they consumed for food. That may have been so, or it may not, but it would account for the presence of the bones; except for some such tale it would be difficult to do so, for the animals could hardly have strayed so far from daylight, to say nothing of the difference of level between the floor of the main channel and that of the Bone Cave. This branch cave was soon explored, for in about two hundred yards the roof gradually converged to meet the floor, and we found it necessary to crawl on hands and knees—a painful thing to do over the rough angular lava blocks. Retracing our steps we descended to the old river-bed again and scrambled over rough boulders for a considerable distance, to emerge after awhile by a long rising snow slope into the open air. The snow remains in the caves all the year round; it drifts in through the opening during the winter, and the warmth of the whole summer's sun does not suffice to melt it—it was then the end of July.The opening has been caused by the falling in of the roof, but there is no way out—the edges overhang quite beyond reach. On again we went, downanother snow slope to the second section of the caves, where the "going" was indescribable. Our way lay over the roughest and sharpest-edged blocks of lava that it is possible to imagine, where nothing but the strongest of boots would have withstood the wear and tear; it was one continuous scramble on hands and feet. I found it most difficult, for in addition to the candle in my hands, a camera was slung from my shoulders, and the wretched thing would continually work round in front and get mixed up with arms or legs at critical moments when my body was contorted in scrambling up, down, or over, a particularly awkward series of sharp-edged boulders. At last we reached another long snow slope, at the top of which there was another opening to the caves—the second entrance already mentioned. The snow-drifts are not very deep in places, for I went through twice, though I was able to scramble out again without assistance.The last section of the caves is most remarkable. After descending into it by another snow-drift, we found ourselves in a region of frost and ice. Water trickled everywhere from the roof, crystallising into long icicles, and the drops that fell upon the floor were converted into smooth ice, or gradually built up ice stalagmites. For several hundred yards the whole floor was coated with ice; there were myriads of icicles pendent from the roof, and on the floor stood ice stalagmites, pillars and columns innumerable. One of the first features to notice was a fine group of clear ice columns, while we came upon the most beautiful thing in the caves a little farther on, after descending an ice slope that was most difficult to negotiate without alpenstock and ice nails in boots.However, by the exercise of great care we got down without tumbles, and were rewarded by the sight of a very beautiful snow-white cascade of ice; the scene was very pretty and fairy-like, illumined as it was by the light shed upon the surroundings by our candles. It was after passing the cascade that the real difficulty of the journey began. For several hundred yards we had to make our way over countless lava boulders, but no longer were they sharp and angular, and rough to the touch; no, they were far otherwise, for they were coated with ice and were as smooth as glass, and oh, so cold! and as slippery as the proverbial glass, only more so, for no glass could be so slippery. Up and down we went at the slowest possible rate of progression, climbing over huge blocks of ice-coated lava, hanging on with hands to some of the ice stalagmites that, fortunately for our safety, were in hundreds—nay, thousands, and feeling cautiously with feet for projecting pieces of ice on which to rest them and get a sort of foothold; but our slips were many in the pitchy darkness that was but faintly relieved by the dull light from the candles we carried, which we clasped convulsively in our hands as we clutched at the icy stalagmites, and slid and slipped and blundered along. At last we emerged from the ice-bound region to find ourselves on scoriaceous lava, coated in places with a thin layer of a loamy deposit. Over this we crunched for a few hundred yards till we came to a cairn built in the middle of the cave. In a recess of the cairn there was a tin box, which the guide soon brought to our notice. It contained a number of visiting cards that had been left from time to time by tourists wishing to immortalise themselves,for this is one of the least visited of the "lions" of Iceland. On the top of the cairn, which stood nearly shoulder high, there was a wooden board, having on it a number of coins, ancient as well as modern, for one of them, a Danish coin, bears the date 1743. It is a time-honoured custom for visitors to leave a coin there; but as water drops from the roof upon the board containing the coins, they speedily decompose; indeed, many of them were already unrecognisable from decay. The end of the cave was but a short distance beyond, perhaps a hundred yards, and there two staves, about three feet long, with hollow ends, rested in an upright position on the floor at a spot where the roof and floor rapidly converged; they were kept in place by the sloping roof, which meets the floor a few yards beyond. In the hollows of the staves there were several old coins, one of them being a Danish piece about the size of an English crown. To get out of the caves we had to retrace our steps over the ice-covered boulders and through the Icicle Cave to the second entrance. The photograph shows the view looking towards the entrance just before ascending the snow slope; we had already passed most of the icicles, but on the floor, which is of ice, a few of the very small stalagmites are shown.SURTSHELLIR—THE ICICLE CAVE.In the Icicle Cave we met Miss Hastie and Hannes, who had come over from Gilsbakki because the day was so fine and summer-like—it was one of the few days that really felt summery. After lunch beside the Northingafljot we started for Gilsbakki, proceeding down the lava in the Northingafljot valley. We crossed the river at a convenient ford not far away, and rode along on the right side of the valley. Wepassed by the liparite mountain, Tunga, this time on the western side of it; the lower slopes were covered with birch, though it did not grow so far up as on the eastern side. The colouring of the bare exposed rock was brown, yellow, purple, etc.—just the same as that at the hot springs at Kerlingarfjöll, and it looked as if several places were the sites of hot springs, then extinct. I had no time to examine the mountain, but I should doubtless have found the matter quite hard, whereas that by the hot springs at Kerlingarfjöll was of the consistency of soft clay. Beyond Tunga, the Northingafljot lava joins that coming from the other side of the mountain in the Hvitá valley, and thence they continue as one flow down the Hvitá valley to just beyond Gilsbakki.We travelled for several miles beside the river Thorvaldsdalsá, and could not help noticing that it decreased in volume as we descended, although several streams flowed into it from the mountain-sides; its waters drain underground, and doubtless contribute to the falls on the right bank of the Hvitá, a few miles distant at Barnafoss.
BARNAFOSS AND THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES
The sun had crossed the meridian next day before we left Reykholt. We had coffee with the minister and his wife, from whom we parted on the best possible terms; they and their children waved their adieux to us as we proceeded on our way up Reykholtsdal. We struck across towards the Hvitá, and soon came in sight of that river, a swift-flowing stream whose milky-white colour denoted that its source must be up in the snow-and ice-fields of the Jökulls. Along the Hvitá (white river) valley there were many evidences that the river had at one time been far wider, for up the valley sides several terraces marked levels at which alluvium had formerly been deposited. We lunched at Stori Ás, in view of the conical peaked mountain, Strutr, and Eyriks Jökull. We were then not far from the bridge that spans the Hvitá and affords communication between opposite sides of the river, so Miss Hastie and I walked on while Hannes and Jón were adjusting pack-saddles, etc. I came upon an interesting specimen of wind erosion at the top of a rise, where the sandy soil had been blown away from round a turf-covered mound. We passedthrough a small birch wood, but the trees were very diminutive, three to five feet being the average, with a few rather more; a photograph I took gives the impression of much greater height. On the opposite side of the river we could see recent lava, and on the hillside beyond, the farm-house of Gilsbakki. This lava had come from a considerable distance, for I traced its course from Gilsbakki, right away past the liparite mountain, Tunga, and beyond Strutr, where it divides and flows in two streams. This lava determines the courses of the principal rivers thereabouts, which flow along its edges.
A FOREST NEAR BARNAFOSS.
A FOREST NEAR BARNAFOSS.
A FOREST NEAR BARNAFOSS.
Just below the bridge a very remarkable sight is to be seen. For more than half a mile along the right bank of the river a series of cascades and waterfalls flow into it. The water issues from beneath thelava of which the steep bank is composed, and then flows down its side; it is a very striking proof of the great extent of some of the subterranean rivers. Just above the bridge there is a very fine fall in the Hvitá, known as Barnafoss; though fine, it cannot be compared with Gullfoss in grandeur, and the glory of this part of the river is the series of cascades on its right bank. The spot is supposed to have been named from the drowning of two children near the fall—Barnafoss, the children's waterfall; but the minister at Reykholt declared that the tale is not true, and that the name is more likely to have been corrupted from Bjarni, which is a man's name. It is worthy of note that the birch woods seem to flourish best in the decaying lava in the scoriaceous lava-fields; it also seems to do well in soil produced from liparite, forit grows high up on the east side of the liparite mountain, Tunga.
THE CASCADES AT BARNAFOSS.
THE CASCADES AT BARNAFOSS.
THE CASCADES AT BARNAFOSS.
At the Hvitá bridge the party split into two—Miss Hastie going on with Hannes to Gilsbakki, while Jón and I went along the left bank of the Hvitá past Husafell, thence onward across the river Kaldá, where we got among lava and birches. The birches were much of the same height as those in the Barnafoss wood, though I saw several that stood about seven to eight feet high. I took a photograph of one of them—one in which the wood had attained a thickness of some three or four inches; it was the finest specimen of a birch-tree that I saw in Iceland. There are bigger birches in the land, for I have seen a photograph of a clump of about a dozen that are over twenty feet in height, but they are in a particularly favoured spot on the eastern side of the island. I got Jón on his pony to stand while I photographed the wood through which we were passing, for it was a typical Icelandic forest. On crossing the next river, the Geitá, I found the lava much broken up and denuded, and there was spread over it a quantity of the alluvial pebbles that are brought down in times of heavy rains and melting ice by the rivers flowing from Lang Jökull—it is a sort of flood plain, in fact. This continued until we reached the Hvitá, but on the other side of it we once more found ourselves upon the unbroken rough lava. Close beside this river we came to a halt for the night at the farm-house of Kalmanstunga, which is situated in a very picturesque spot facing Lang Jökull, the glaciers and ice-fields of which are in full view; it has the liparite mountain, Tunga, and a portion of Eyriks Jökull on the right, and the extinct volcano, Strutr, on the left.
In the morning I ascended the rising ground at the back of Kalmanstunga, and thence obtained an interesting view over the country. In the foreground beneath Lang Jökull a long valley filled with lava from beyond Strutr stretches away from left to right; two rivers flow down the valley, one on each side of the lava, which determines their course along its edges. The Hvitá flowed on the edge of the lava just at the foot of the hills whereon I stood; on the far side of the valley, on the other edge of the lava, the Geitá flowed at the foot of the outlying hills of Lang Jökull. Away to the right in the valley between the two rivers, towards their confluence, I could see the denuded alluvium-covered lava noticed on the way. This alluvial matter is deposited during floods, when the waters of the swollen rivers unite and flow over the lava as one.
It was nearly mid-day before we got a start, for there had been delay over a very important matter. Jón had awakened me several hours earlier to inform me that there were no candles in the house! Now, candles would not seem to be a matter of much importance to us, considering that it was then broad daylight and that we had but little use for candles in the ordinary way, because daylight continued practically during the whole twenty-four hours; nor would the lack of them seem to be a thing to cause a delay in starting; but it was really the case, for we were about to proceed to the Surtshellir Caves, and candles were required to enable us to explore their passages. That being so, a messenger had tobe sent to the farm-house at Husafell, where a stock was generally kept for anybody wanting to visit the caves. The caves were distant about two hours' ride—one rarely mentions distance in the ordinary way when travelling in Iceland, because ten miles, say, might represent a journey of three or four hours, or the same distance might be traversed in little more than an hour in very favourable ground. After crossing the rise at the back of Kalmanstunga, we descended into the valley of the Northingafljot, a clear-water river having its source in a number of lakes of glacial origin known as Fiskivötn, lying beyond Eyriks Jökull. The valley is filled with lava from the same source as that on the Hvitá side of Strutr, whence I had just come. Here the lava is noted for the number and extent of the caves that underlie it. There is a sharp rise as the river is ascended, the stream in consequence being a swift one—so swift, indeed, that it has been able to carve a way through the lava, which it crosses from one side of the valley to the other, a very unusual thing. The upper portion flows on the western edge of the lava and at the foot of the hills on that side; while the lower, after crossing the lava, flows along by the eastern edge at the foot of the mountains Strutr and Tunga.
THE NORTHINGAFLJOT CUTTING ACROSS THE LAVA.
THE NORTHINGAFLJOT CUTTING ACROSS THE LAVA.
THE NORTHINGAFLJOT CUTTING ACROSS THE LAVA.
The caves at Surtshellir are remarkable for several things. Their origin is probably due to a big bubble formation, helped partly, perhaps, by a crust of lava being forced upward in the form of an arch by pressure acting from the sides; though there is no doubt that they have been much enlarged and deepened by the eroding action of flowing water.An underground river used to flow through the caves, but as it does not do so now, some lower channel has doubtless been found. There was evidence of lower caves beneath those visited, for on stamping on the ground in several places, distinctly hollow sounds were produced. The falls into the Hvitá at Barnafoss, which are only a few miles away, lie in the Surtshellir line of drainage, and are proof that very large quantities of water are still flowing underground in this neighbourhood; in fact, it is highly probable that a great deal of water from the numerous lakes, the Fiskivötn, on Arnarvatnsheithi, escapes underground. There are two entrances to the caves—one near what is known as the Bone Cave, the other close by the Icicle Cave. The caves are in a picturesque spot, and beyond the entrance thatwe used there lies the great ice-covered Eyriks Jökull, one of the highest mountains in Iceland. There is a depression in the lava at this spot—a double depression, in fact, for inner and outer rims indicate them very distinctly, and it is obvious that the opening in the caves is due to the falling in of part of the roof. Access to the caves is obtained by scrambling down the loose broken lava to an opening at the bottom. The photographs do not give much idea of the roughness of the "going"; from end to end, except in the Icicle Cave, where difficulties of another kind were met with, the floor of the caves was strewn with broken lava. The fragments that have become detached from the roof and now lie upon the floor are angular blocks of extreme raggednessand hardness, piled up in confused heaps that test quality of boots, strength of ankles, and toughness (or tenderness) of skin, to say nothing of the mysterious capability of hanging on "by one's eyelids" that is almost absolutely necessary in places.
THE DOUBLE DEPRESSION IN THE LAVA AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES.
THE DOUBLE DEPRESSION IN THE LAVA AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES.
THE DOUBLE DEPRESSION IN THE LAVA AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES.
IN THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES NEAR THE ENTRANCE, SHOWING THE WATER-WORN LINES.
IN THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES NEAR THE ENTRANCE, SHOWING THE WATER-WORN LINES.
IN THE SURTSHELLIR CAVES NEAR THE ENTRANCE, SHOWING THE WATER-WORN LINES.
Jón and I were accompanied by the farmer from Kalmanstunga, a man acquainted with the caves, who had come with us in the capacity of guide. We scrambled down to the entrance and then lighted our candles. When once inside, there could be no doubt as to one of the causes of their existence or enlargement, for there along the sides of the caves, indicating the different levels of the old river, were numerous water-worn lines. The photograph shows this veryclearly; it also shows the lava fragment bestrewn floor, and the roof from which the fragments have fallen. We followed our guide into the main channel, but he soon turned to the left into a branch known as the Bone Cave, because of the number of animal remains (bones) that bestrew the floor. It is said that some twenty to thirty outlaws at one time occupied the cave, and that the bones are the remains of the sheep and oxen which the outlaws stole from the flocks and herds in the neighbourhood, and which they consumed for food. That may have been so, or it may not, but it would account for the presence of the bones; except for some such tale it would be difficult to do so, for the animals could hardly have strayed so far from daylight, to say nothing of the difference of level between the floor of the main channel and that of the Bone Cave. This branch cave was soon explored, for in about two hundred yards the roof gradually converged to meet the floor, and we found it necessary to crawl on hands and knees—a painful thing to do over the rough angular lava blocks. Retracing our steps we descended to the old river-bed again and scrambled over rough boulders for a considerable distance, to emerge after awhile by a long rising snow slope into the open air. The snow remains in the caves all the year round; it drifts in through the opening during the winter, and the warmth of the whole summer's sun does not suffice to melt it—it was then the end of July.
The opening has been caused by the falling in of the roof, but there is no way out—the edges overhang quite beyond reach. On again we went, downanother snow slope to the second section of the caves, where the "going" was indescribable. Our way lay over the roughest and sharpest-edged blocks of lava that it is possible to imagine, where nothing but the strongest of boots would have withstood the wear and tear; it was one continuous scramble on hands and feet. I found it most difficult, for in addition to the candle in my hands, a camera was slung from my shoulders, and the wretched thing would continually work round in front and get mixed up with arms or legs at critical moments when my body was contorted in scrambling up, down, or over, a particularly awkward series of sharp-edged boulders. At last we reached another long snow slope, at the top of which there was another opening to the caves—the second entrance already mentioned. The snow-drifts are not very deep in places, for I went through twice, though I was able to scramble out again without assistance.
The last section of the caves is most remarkable. After descending into it by another snow-drift, we found ourselves in a region of frost and ice. Water trickled everywhere from the roof, crystallising into long icicles, and the drops that fell upon the floor were converted into smooth ice, or gradually built up ice stalagmites. For several hundred yards the whole floor was coated with ice; there were myriads of icicles pendent from the roof, and on the floor stood ice stalagmites, pillars and columns innumerable. One of the first features to notice was a fine group of clear ice columns, while we came upon the most beautiful thing in the caves a little farther on, after descending an ice slope that was most difficult to negotiate without alpenstock and ice nails in boots.However, by the exercise of great care we got down without tumbles, and were rewarded by the sight of a very beautiful snow-white cascade of ice; the scene was very pretty and fairy-like, illumined as it was by the light shed upon the surroundings by our candles. It was after passing the cascade that the real difficulty of the journey began. For several hundred yards we had to make our way over countless lava boulders, but no longer were they sharp and angular, and rough to the touch; no, they were far otherwise, for they were coated with ice and were as smooth as glass, and oh, so cold! and as slippery as the proverbial glass, only more so, for no glass could be so slippery. Up and down we went at the slowest possible rate of progression, climbing over huge blocks of ice-coated lava, hanging on with hands to some of the ice stalagmites that, fortunately for our safety, were in hundreds—nay, thousands, and feeling cautiously with feet for projecting pieces of ice on which to rest them and get a sort of foothold; but our slips were many in the pitchy darkness that was but faintly relieved by the dull light from the candles we carried, which we clasped convulsively in our hands as we clutched at the icy stalagmites, and slid and slipped and blundered along. At last we emerged from the ice-bound region to find ourselves on scoriaceous lava, coated in places with a thin layer of a loamy deposit. Over this we crunched for a few hundred yards till we came to a cairn built in the middle of the cave. In a recess of the cairn there was a tin box, which the guide soon brought to our notice. It contained a number of visiting cards that had been left from time to time by tourists wishing to immortalise themselves,for this is one of the least visited of the "lions" of Iceland. On the top of the cairn, which stood nearly shoulder high, there was a wooden board, having on it a number of coins, ancient as well as modern, for one of them, a Danish coin, bears the date 1743. It is a time-honoured custom for visitors to leave a coin there; but as water drops from the roof upon the board containing the coins, they speedily decompose; indeed, many of them were already unrecognisable from decay. The end of the cave was but a short distance beyond, perhaps a hundred yards, and there two staves, about three feet long, with hollow ends, rested in an upright position on the floor at a spot where the roof and floor rapidly converged; they were kept in place by the sloping roof, which meets the floor a few yards beyond. In the hollows of the staves there were several old coins, one of them being a Danish piece about the size of an English crown. To get out of the caves we had to retrace our steps over the ice-covered boulders and through the Icicle Cave to the second entrance. The photograph shows the view looking towards the entrance just before ascending the snow slope; we had already passed most of the icicles, but on the floor, which is of ice, a few of the very small stalagmites are shown.
SURTSHELLIR—THE ICICLE CAVE.
SURTSHELLIR—THE ICICLE CAVE.
SURTSHELLIR—THE ICICLE CAVE.
In the Icicle Cave we met Miss Hastie and Hannes, who had come over from Gilsbakki because the day was so fine and summer-like—it was one of the few days that really felt summery. After lunch beside the Northingafljot we started for Gilsbakki, proceeding down the lava in the Northingafljot valley. We crossed the river at a convenient ford not far away, and rode along on the right side of the valley. Wepassed by the liparite mountain, Tunga, this time on the western side of it; the lower slopes were covered with birch, though it did not grow so far up as on the eastern side. The colouring of the bare exposed rock was brown, yellow, purple, etc.—just the same as that at the hot springs at Kerlingarfjöll, and it looked as if several places were the sites of hot springs, then extinct. I had no time to examine the mountain, but I should doubtless have found the matter quite hard, whereas that by the hot springs at Kerlingarfjöll was of the consistency of soft clay. Beyond Tunga, the Northingafljot lava joins that coming from the other side of the mountain in the Hvitá valley, and thence they continue as one flow down the Hvitá valley to just beyond Gilsbakki.We travelled for several miles beside the river Thorvaldsdalsá, and could not help noticing that it decreased in volume as we descended, although several streams flowed into it from the mountain-sides; its waters drain underground, and doubtless contribute to the falls on the right bank of the Hvitá, a few miles distant at Barnafoss.