Icelandic Adventures: Part One

I wrote part of this story while sitting at a picnic table in Þórsmörk, a wide floodplain of a valley in southern Iceland; the remainder was completed when I returned to London. To spare your eyes (and leave you waiting for more) I’m breaking the posts up a bit. I can be a little long winded sometimes.

We arrived in Iceland just after 11pm on Thursday. Driving through a soft sunset indistinguishable from sunrise, a bus carried us through the desolate, treeless rock fields to Reykjavik and our youth hostel campground. No worries about setting up the tent in the dark, as I could comfortably read a book at any given time during this trip, no flashlight required.

My first impressions were of a stark, demanding beauty. Coloured hues, jagged contrasts, the young Earth showing her muscle, might, and mercilessness. That impression turned out to be both true and false.

Red streaks of a sunset over a deceptively calm ocean. Rolling hills decorated with fantastically shaped volcanic offerings, carpeted with arctic lupines glowing a brilliant purple. Harsh, yes, but also soft and surreal.

Sleeping in the light, normally a problem for me, wasn’t difficult given my level of exhaustion and excitement. Armored in my new sleeping bag, I snored the night away (much to the chagrin of our neighbours and Brian, I’m sure) through until well after nine. With no changes in light, the birds simply sang all night, and my circadian rhythms were thrown off.

Friday we had planned to explore Reykjavik and discuss our options. Would we make the city our base and take various day trips to see the sights, or would we camp elsewhere? Such weighty decisions cannot be made without coffee, and we hadn’t brought our groceries along, so downtown on the city bus we went.

A note to any who plan on traveling to Reykjavik: the city has a lovely welcome card which grants you access to all city buses, a thermal pool, museums, and discounted day trips. I suggest you buy one, because they come in very handy. We, of course, didn’t learn about them until it was too late. Sigh.

But back to the coffee. I mean, the exploring. We had a light breakfast at a café and started wandering the streets of the city. Clean, spacious, functional-these are the words that come to mind. Little graffiti or litter, well-dressed and happy people. Expensive stores full of expensive designer goods. Arts and culture are very important in the community, as was expressly evident that particular Friday.

Fantastic Friday it was, and the country’s young artists had taken to the streets. There were jazz bands and string quartets playing streetcorners, visual artists roaming about in fantastical costumes, dancers and singers. We were a bit puzzled by it all at first, but found a few signs and understanding dawned.

Iceland is famous for avant guarde music, natural wonders, wool and its ponies. We didn’t get to ride the ponies (next trip) but we managed to experience the others. The tourist shops are full of beautiful wool sweaters, blankets, scarves, hats, and curiosities. I purchased a sticker for my guitar case and a knitted pair of gold woolen handwarmers. Brian mocked my handwarmers then, but later regretted not having a pair himself.

Iceland has very high rates of literacy and education. Supposedly it is one of the happiest places in the world to live, and thrive. It was surprising to see, then, the prevalence of superstition and traditional beliefs. Elves and trolls are common in Icelandic folklore, but are also taken quite seriously by many. Not just little tourist statues, elves and trolls are thought to live in certain locations. Roads have been re-routed because of these beliefs. Seeing some of the fantastic “stone trolls” that, as the story goes, were turned to stone by the rising sun, I could almost believe it myself. But not really.

Around 2pm, we decided to take a bus to Þórsmörk, supposedly one of the most beautiful places in Iceland, and camp for the night. After hiking around for the morning, we would return to the city in time for Naturra, a free concert that was taking place Saturday night. It would limit what we would see, but who wouldn’t miss the chance to see Björk and Sigur Rós in a field next to our campsite?

Regular bus lines, like Greyhound, didn’t seem to be running. Rather, we couldn’t find them. We later discovered they do exist, but don’t travel where we wanted to go (for very good reasons.) Reykjavik Excursions offered a daily bus to and from Þórsmörk. We were told to be at the bus station, ready to go, at 5 pm.

That meant we needed to buy groceries, return to the hostel, pack up, return to the bus station, and go. Though it took a little hustling, we made it according to schedule. Tickets in hand, backpacks in place, we boarded the bus and were on our way.