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S1:E3 | Skaftafell to Reykjavík

A Glacial Glissé

By Nathan Tsai

March 26^th, 2017

AN OMINOUS Start

At breakfast in the hotel canteen, the view outside the window was beautiful.

Breakfast was a standard fare of cold cuts, eggs, breads, and fruits.

The only thing that really stood out to me was a white-fleshed melon. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I suspect it was a winter melon (or Canary melon). I don't think I've ever had it "raw" but it tasted quite good actually. Light flavor of a cantaloupe but slightly sweeter and crunchier.

I ate double portions because we would be hiking all day and I didn't know if I would be getting a good lunch.

Icelandic Roads

I've mentioned this in "Day Two", but the roads in Iceland are just beautiful.

Barely any traffic, straight and just wonderfully maintained. No potholes, divots, or any sort of twisting. Just perfectly flat with a brutal starkness surrounding the sides.

These two shots were taken on the same road—one pointing Eastward and the other pointing Westward.

Skaftafell

The main objective today was to knock out two hikes in Vatnajökull National Park. Both of these hikes would take place in an area of the park called Skaftafell.

Our first hike would end up at the base of Iceland's largest glacier. We'd then head back to the trailhead to hike in the opposite direction to Iceland's most distinctive waterfall.

Skaftafellsjökull Glacier

First stop: a giant glacier responsible for much of the rugged valleys in the South of Iceland. Skaftafellsjökull has made the news recently because over the past few years, rising temperatures have melted much of the exposed glacier away. It is really a sad state of affairs and serves as another reminder that global climate change will continue to drastically change all things—great and small.

Along the trail, there were a plethora of mini-waterfalls whose dark stains on the cold stone cliffs provided life for the hardy moss that clung to the frozen ground.

It was cold enough that some of the water froze in icicle-like drips, but much of the water made it into the ground where it fueled yet more life.

Even in the most wind-swept and bitterly-frostbitten landscapes, life still finds a way. The moss and low grasses that made up most of the foliage for miles ranged in color from a a dark brown to a pastel green. With the blue sky and the black mountains reflected in the distance, the colors looked almost alien.

Even though the glacier has shrunk in recent years, it's still a formidable sight to behold. When we first trekked in the morning, the weather was still a bit cloudy and overcast but the sun rapidly burned through the clouds and glacier shone a savagely clear blue.

As an indication of the size, look to the last photograph for reference. Those tiny dots that are sprinkled among the sand valleys in front of the glacier are people!

It used to be safe for people to climb on the glacier, but in recent years, the land-glacier interface has become very unstable and people have fallen through cracks in the ice to their freezing fate. Nevertheless, we were able get very close to the glacier and appreciate the immobile beauty up close.

Lunch was a rushed affair. We wanted to maximize our time hiking so we had a "convenience store lunch". We had refueled the car in the morning and picked up a few bags of biscuits, chocolate, bananas, and water. We also consumed my second bag of turkey jerky.

Svartifoss

The second expedition of the day was to Svartifoss, the waterfall that Reykjavík's famous Hallgrímskirkja church is designed after. It was a little more challenging than the walk to the glacier primarily because there was a significant elevation change and there were some parts of the path that were washed out by the winter.

As with the hike to the glacier, there were plenty things to see on the way to the waterfall. We found a particularly burbly river and rested by it for a while. It was so peaceful that none of us wanted to keep moving.

The waterfall may not be the widest or the tallest in Iceland, but the rocks surrounding the waterfall more than make up with their contribution to the awing ambience.

The lava rocks rise in columns from the ground and seems to lurk over the little pool the water falls into. It's easy to see why this waterfall was the inspiration for so much of Iceland's architecture.

It's also easy to see why these falls have been used as places of worship. When standing under the falls and facing the walls, it feels like one is in a amphitheater created by God.

A lesson Learned

The drive back to Reykjavík started uneventfully.

The weather turned in an instant.

In no more than a minute:

The blue sky was replaced by a cluster of clouds.

The wind started to howl.

The black road disappeared under a flurry of blown snow.

It wasn't snowing yet, but the winds were so fierce that it was literally picking up inches of snow at a time and hurling it across the road.

The next minute, the howling wind turned into a shrill screaming and the clouds sealed tightly over our heads. Snow started to fall.

The car was out of my control.

I was only driving 60 km/h, but with the sudden weather change, the car's snow tires gave up their grip and in the blink of an eye, we were off the road.

I kept the wheels pointed in the direction of our travel while slowly tapping the brakes.

The road is to the far left of the picture where the yellow reflector pylons are buried.

The car came to rest 15 feet off the road.

Our front was pointed about 30° to the right of the road.

Our wheels were buried about two feet into the snow.

Our first thought was to call a tow truck to pull us out. After wasted minutes haggling on the phone, we realized that it would be several hours before anyone could get to us. Many other drivers had suffered a similar fate.

The fee quoted was exorbitant. The nearest tow truck was over 200km away and wanted $3.50 per kilometer.

Salvation came in the form of a speeding, skidding bus with the words "EXTREMEICELAND.IS" stenciled on the side. The driver stuttered to a stop and dashed out. He almost flew across the snow as he hopped his way over to our beached car. After checking to make sure we weren't injured and our heater was working, he said that we weren't too stuck and with some work, we could probably extricate ourselves. He, unfortunately, had a schedule to keep so he couldn't stay to help, but he was confident that we could get out on our own.

His confidence was infectious.

For an hour, we pushed, rocked, and willed the car across the white powder.

The car was more like a stubborn wildebeest than anything else. For every inch we moved backwards, the wind and snow conspired to have us slide another inch away from the road.

Our hands were shovels to clear the tires.

Our shoes were compactors to flatten the snow under the car.

The roaring wind was our soundtrack.

I reversed the car one final time, I felt the car slide up the ramp we created.

I shifted the car quickly forwards and cranked the wheel the other way.

With a "brgrumph", the engine grumbled under the deafening winds and suddenly, there was asphalt beneath the tires.

We whooped with joy.

We estimate that we had no more than 10-15 meters of visibility for much of our drive back.

We drove in almost pure-whiteout conditions for three hours.

Most of the time, I kept the speed under 30km/h.

Along the way, we picked up other cars traveling cautiously.

Instinctually, we formed a convoy as we wended our way through the infinite whiteness. We developed a close camaraderie with the cars in front and behind us. Even though we couldn't even see their faces, we knew that they were looking out for us too.