Chapter II: Part 2

The next day the wind was still S.S.E., and the fog and sleet were as bad as ever; and as progress was impossible, I minutely inspected the rocks of Mount Paul. They rise from a large crater now filled with snow. To the south-east is a pit-crater partially filled with snow. Mount Paul is composed almost entirely of perlite and obsidian. This is the only place in Iceland in which I have found obsidian “in situ.” The west side of the mountain particularly attracted my attention, being composed of multitudes of spherulites cemented together by obsidian. Thousands of these small globular formations had been weathered out of the obsidian, and in some places one might have collected a hat-full.

Night brought no improvement in the weather; and a somewhat remarkable scene presented itself of six men lying in a hole in the snow, 4250 feet above the sea-level, in Iceland, all hoping for a frost--but no frost came, and morning found us in the same position. This was very aggravating for one who had spent much money, time and labour, in order to complete a survey across the Vatna Jökull; but the day was fine, and I could post up my diary, plan for the future, learn Icelandic, eat, drink and smoke, upon the volcanic _débris_ on the leeward side of Mount Paul, where the thermometer at midday rose to 75 and 80 degrees in the sun, and it was infinitely preferable to lying in the snow. Towards evening it began to freeze, so we packed up our sleighs and retired to Mount Paul, until the crust was strong enough to bear the weight of the sleigh. By ten P.M. there were twelve degrees of frost, and the wind blew freshly from the N.W. The crust now bore the sleigh, but we sank through it up to our knees at every step. This was such laborious work that after two hours we halted, hoping the crust would soon become firmer; but we were doomed to disappointment, for after a while the wind suddenly shifted to the S.E., and almost simultaneously a fog appeared. However, we were soon upon our legs, and although the surface of the snow became worse and worse, and we sank deeper and deeper into it as we proceeded, we managed to do five hours’ work by halting every quarter of an hour.

About 3 P.M. I noticed a curious phenomenon. The sun was above the horizon, and was occasionally discernible through the fog--for at this time of the year at this altitude, about 4500 feet, the sun can scarcely be said to set--appearing to move in a circle from the meridian westward, and still keeping above the horizon to almost due north, where it dips for about half-an-hour, appearing again about N.N.E., and by six P.M. it bears due east, some forty degrees above the horizon. A strong current of air was drifting the clouds and fog at our level across the surface of the Jökull from the S.E., while dark masses of cloud were perfectly discernible passing at a very rapid rate across the face of the sun from a precisely opposite direction.

The storm now increased in violence, and we were soon so surrounded by whirling clouds of snow that it was impossible to distinguish from what quarter the wind was blowing. The compass had for a long time been almost useless, in all probability owing to the magnetic ore contained in the rocks which underlie the snows of the Jökull. This rendered us entirely dependent upon the wind and the sun for our direction. In clear weather, where the compass is useless, I always steer by a circular piece of card marked off into four right angles, so that by carefully taking the angular bearings of all distinguishable objects, one is able to steer a pretty straight course.

_London, Longmans & C^o._
_E. Weller, Litho._

Map of the
AUTHORS ROUTES
_from_
Núpstað to Reikjahlíð]

Being now unable to avail myself of either compass, sun, wind, or card, nothing remained for us but another halt. For two days the storm continued and it would have been impossible to get many yards away from the tent without being lost. On the third day at noon the storm abated, the wind shifted due east, and the sun broke through the clouds. We all turned out, but it was useless to think of struggling through the loose, deep snow. We took our bed out to dry it, for it was wet with the exhalations from our bodies. This, however, was rather against the wish of some of my men, upon whom the inactivity of the last few days had begun to tell. I observed two black peaks protruding through the snow, one about five miles due north, and the other about eleven miles N.W. I was surprised to find a considerable quantity of volcanic ash upon the snow, of a fine, light, grey description. This appeared the more remarkable, as I knew of no volcano that had been in eruption south of the Vatna Jökull, and the storm had blown almost entirely from the S.E. Moreover, I was aware there was no ash of that kind anywhere upon the south. It appeared to me that this must have been carried either from an erupting volcano, or from some ash-strewn district to the north of the Jökull, by a current of air travelling in a different direction to the S.S.E. wind which we had experienced during the last few days, and bisecting the latter current at a point south of our present position, had been unable to resist its force, and had been carried by it to the place where it was now lying.

We here obtained an excellent view of the Vatna Jökull Housie, which appeared to be higher than any other point on the Jökull, our present height being 4500 feet--the summit of the Housie being at least 1500 feet above us. Its form is a lop-sided cone, from which I could trace, through my telescope, the course of huge lava streams, now deeply buried in the snow, but still leaving unequal ridges upon each side of the mountain, and in some instances extending to a considerable distance upon the main body of the Vatna Jökull. An extensive eruption of one of these snow-covered volcanoes must be awful, when any vast volume of lava is suddenly ejected upon such a tremendous accumulation of frozen material; but minor eruptions and smaller streams of lava, I should think, can make but little impression upon such an enormous quantity of snow in the first instance. Probably (unless there has been any great amount of sand or ashes previously ejected) they melt their way through the snow to the rocky bed of the mountain, and forming a sort of tube by the aid of the rapidly consolidated crust upon their surface continue their course, much as a lava stream would upon ordinary ground, or more especially, perhaps, at the bottom of the sea, without occasioning any very remarkable phenomena, and even the effect of the most extensive eruptions must of necessity be but local.

By 4 P.M. the wind shifted back to its old quarter, S.S.E., and, despairing of frost, we again betook ourselves to the tent. Towards midnight, for about the twentieth time, I went out with Paul to look at the weather. We tried the sleighs, and found it was as much as one man could do to pull a sleigh with nothing on it, and a very small weight almost buried the sleigh in the snow, and enabled it to resist our united efforts to get it along. During our experiment we sunk very deep into the snow. For the last three days I had put every one on half rations, and as anything is better than inactivity with insufficient food, we determined to abandon our sleighs and attempt to force our way through the snow, carrying everything upon our backs. It was rather foggy and sleeting, but the wind was blowing pretty steadily. We communicated our determination to the rest of our party, and they quietly accepted it without a murmur. We packed up everything, and leaving our sleighs and a gathering storm behind us, we turned our faces northward with a cheer which was more animated than might have been expected under the circumstances. I must say our position bore rather a forlorn aspect. Six men heavily laden, wading through snow up to their knees at every step, no view but an ever-advancing circle of gloom, the only variation being that it was darker towards the south, from which quarter a strong wind was blowing, with squalls of sleet and snow. About every quarter of an hour we had to stop from sheer exhaustion, and after two or three hours’ arduous toil two of my men became quite incapacitated and too ill to proceed. This was evidently not a case of sham. I therefore halted, and served out with all speed some warm grog; one man was spitting blood, and another was suffering severe pains in the stomach. I had previously advised every man to wear a cloth bandage round his stomach, but none of them had cared to do so. I suffered rather from pains in the bowels the previous year upon the Vatna Jökull, but I was now wearing an abdominal bandage of tarred cloth, and throughout our prolonged stay upon the snow suffered no inconvenience whatever. The next day was finer, with sunshine and increased cold, with snow at intervals, the thermometer being below freezing point all day; one of the sick men had recovered, but the other was still too ill to travel. Towards evening the wind blew from the west, and it began to freeze hard. I therefore sent back for the sleighs, which we had taken the precaution to stand upright and fix firmly in the snow before we left them.

By 9 P.M. it was freezing very sharply. I served out an allowance of warm grog, and as the invalid was greatly recovered and said he would rather die than go back, we again struck N.N.E., allowing him to go free. We had packed everything on one of the sleighs, four pulling and one pushing behind, and so firm a crust had now formed upon the surface of the snow that this heavily laden sleigh travelled as easily as an empty one would have done the evening before. We now gradually ascended until at 1 A.M. we reached a rolling plain, at the height of 5750 feet. It was perfectly clear in the west, and I obtained a good view of Tungufell’s and Arnarfell’s Jökulls, which from the angle they made with our line of march, showed me we were two-thirds of the way across the Vatna Jökull. It was still very thick in the south and east, and the wind had shifted to the south-west. An ice-storm was almost the immediate result, a driving mist encrusting everything with ice; the undulations in the plateau became more and more marked, the variation in altitude being sometimes as much as 100 feet or more. A most obdurate mist continued to prevent our obtaining any further view, which was very exasperating, as we might have passed within a short distance of objects of interest without being conscious of the fact.

We made our first halt at 3 A.M., and took a light meal of Peek and Frean’s meat biscuits and snow. When I say snow I do not mean the pure white frosty snow which lies upon the surface, but the coarse, granular, icy particles of which the crust we were walking upon was composed. I have often been dependent upon snow for the water supply, both in North-West America and upon mountains, and I find the coarser the snow is, and the more it approaches the character of ice, the better it quenches the thirst, and the less likely it is to occasion pain in the stomach. When the fine white snow only can be procured, as every tyro knows, it can be made more palatable by compressing it into a snowball. In other words, the less cold air is swallowed, entangled in the snow, the better; for the very act of squeezing the snow causes it to part with some portion of air, as is shown by the change of colour, as it regelates towards the form of ice. Thus we preferred the coarse icy granules, which formed the crust upon the older snow, to the pure white tempting frost-snow which, owing to the extra amount of air it contained, must have been of a considerably lower temperature than the granulated snow beneath. We were now at the height of 5900 feet, and the temperature was 15° of frost. The rim of the sun was occasionally observable through the fog which surrounded us, giving us a good line to steer by, and bright fog-bows escorted us to windward; but these were simply bows, and had none of the cruciform corona in the interior, which were so observable upon the Myrdal’s Jökull last year. At 6 P.M. we reached a steep ascent, where our compass twisted and turned about in the most eccentric fashion; the heavens became black as night to windward, the wind had risen, and was making the peculiar booming noise I have often remarked in these regions before a storm, and driving a blinding, pitiless drifting snow before it, which eddied about the sleigh and wrapped itself around us, as if longing to enshroud and bury us in its frozen toils. But we had an idea of burying ourselves in our own fashion. “Oskôp mikill stormur kèmur bráðum” (A bad storm is coming on presently), said Eyólfur, sitting down for a moment on the sleigh, and clapping his feet together to knock off the snow which was clinging to his legs, and we were all of the same opinion. We were at the height of 6150 feet, so I ordered a hole to be dug, and the tent to be pitched. The snow was very hard and firm, even at the depth of four feet, and we cut out as clean a hole as if it had been in salt, but the wind drifted so much loose snow into it, that the men were obliged to hold up the tent to windward during its completion. We had barely got ourselves snug and commenced breakfast, when the storm burst upon us, seeming to threaten the tearing up of the very snow in which we had taken refuge; and had not former experience taught us to fortify our tent well all round with banks of snow, I have no doubt it would have been the last we should have seen of that article of furniture. Being satisfied that all was snug, and that the worst which could happen to us was that we might be buried a few feet in the snow, we went to sleep. When we awoke at mid-day the storm had subsided and the fog had lifted, showing three dark mountains to the north--doubtless Skjaldbreið, Herðubreið, and Dyngjufjöll.

We were speculating as to whether we should go on in spite of the still threatening aspect of the weather, when the fog returned, and the booming wind announced another storm to be close at hand. Presently it broke upon us; never before had I heard the wind make such an unearthly wail. It seemed as if every imaginable demon and all the storm spirits of that wild region had assembled to howl and make a united attack upon us. The light was fast becoming obscure, and we were getting fairly snowed up, but that made us all the warmer, all the more secure, and the shrieking of the storm was deadened by the friendly covering. We partook of some chocolate, smoked and sung, and finally slept again. At 8 P.M. the storm had somewhat subsided, and I sent out a man to clear away some of the snow from the roof of the tent to let a little light in. The snow had drifted nearly over the tent, and it took some hard work before we were dug sufficiently out to let in enough light to write by; outside there were 10° of frost, but we were comfortably warm in the tent. The air outside was so full of snow that we could not see a couple of yards in advance. Another day showed us only a continuation of storm and snow which utterly prevented progress. We had now only about a week’s provision left, so I again put every one on half rations. The men were obliged to take turns in clearing away the snow, at intervals of every three hours, from the top of the tent, and before very long the tent had the appearance of lying at the bottom of a deep hole in the snow. We passed the time as best we could, by sleeping, eating, smoking, writing, singing, spinning yarns, and I occasionally amused the assembly by learning strings of Icelandic words by Mr. Stokes’s method of mnemonics, and repeating them in order, either backwards or forwards, which puzzled the Icelanders not a little.

Before I started for the Vatna in 1871, I remember saying I should like to see one of its worst storms: I now had that gratification. Storms are interesting natural phenomena, but when prolonged indefinitely are, to say the least, tedious hindrances to progress; and now, lying upon the top of the Vatna Jökull, with the possibility of their lasting for a month, and provisions materially diminishing, their dreary monotony became intolerably oppressive, and after mature consultation we all came to the conclusion that if the weather did not clear in two days’ time, we would leave all impedimenta behind, except provisions, instruments and my diary, and strike northward, storm or no storm--“_sauve qui peut_.”

When we lay down and were fairly snowed over, the booming of the storm sounded as if it came from the interior of the mountain, and almost any familiar sound could be singled out from the hurly-burly in an exaggerated degree, without any great stretch of imagination. It stormed all night; the wind “Trolls” shrieked around us, the thunder of the storm roared through the, to us, dark midnight hours, surging upon the icy bosom of the Jökull, sweeping up its snowy slopes, bearing with it avalanches of snow-drift which had buried us several feet deep by morning. By 5 A.M. it lessened somewhat, the furies of the Vatna appeared to have given up the idea of overwhelming us, and the disheartened tempest sunk away in melancholy sobs, but a determined drift and south-west wind persevered in harassing us.

It was clear that we must now start forward, for not only was there a considerable amount of snow yet to be traversed, but a howling wilderness of volcanic sand, lava, and mountain torrents had to be crossed which lay between the north base of the Jökull and the nearest habitation. We could not remain in our present position, so deeply were we buried, and so difficult was it to get in and out of the tent; moreover the fury of the storm had beaten the snow hard, so there was no time to be lost. I served out a hearty meal, and as packing up under such circumstances seemed to demand some stimulant, I made some grog out of methylated spirit, for all our whisky was gone. This served to quicken our circulation, although it was far from being palatable, having, as my Icelanders said, “slœmr dropi,” or a bad after-taste, and no wonder, as the first taste was not suggestive of an agreeable sequel. We packed, but with great difficulty, owing to everything being frozen quite hard. Upon leaving, I drew over my mocassins a pair of fishing stockings; they were as hard as sheet iron, and were a very great inconvenience to me; but it was too cold to stop and take them off, for it seemed as if we should freeze as we stood. These stockings had been of great service in keeping me dry hitherto, and I hoped they would protect me now. I felt a hard lump in the bottom of my left stocking; if it was snow it meant a frozen foot. But there was no help for it--we could not think of stopping to change foot-gear in such a tempest. The wind had shifted to the west, almost freezing the side exposed to it. We steered N.N.E.: it was fortunate the wind was almost at our back, for we could hardly have faced it.

After three hours’ hard tugging we reached the height of 6,150 feet, and straight away began to descend, and presently at so rapid a rate that I had to send three men behind, in order to prevent the sleigh from starting on its own account for the bottom of the mountain. Suddenly the clouds cleared away before us, disclosing a deep, snowy valley at our feet, and a tall black mountain, streaked with snow, upon our left and west. Lower and lower we descended, more and more precipitous, till it was evident that we could go no farther upon our present course with the sleigh; so Paul and I went forward to explore. The side of the valley terminated in almost perpendicular walls of snow, which were now frozen perfectly hard, and glazed over by the severity of the frost; the opposite side was more broken, with dark crags here and there protruding, while a copious lava stream appeared to flow northwards from the termination of the snow, though I afterwards found that a fringe of glaciers intervened.

We next decided on striking due north, along the sloping sides of the valley, to what we supposed to be Querkfjall, but afterwards found to be Kistufell. Upon returning to the sleigh, while putting back my field-glass, which I was obliged to do barehanded, for my gloves were a mass of ice upon the outside, my fingers began to freeze; but a little hard clapping, and by getting two of my men to beat them with their hands, the circulation was restored. I now ordered three of my men to put spiked iron clamps upon their feet, for without this precaution I doubt not but we should have ended our career, sleigh and all, by an abrupt descent into the valley beneath, unless we had been stopped by some of the ugly crevasses which yawned half-way down the snowy steep, upon the slippery and precipitous sides of which we were descending.

We proceeded, but with great difficulty; our trouble now being, not that the sleigh was hard to get along, but that it would go too fast; in fact, it seemed likely to run away with us altogether. Behind us was a fierce wind, beneath us a precipice of some 800 or 1,000 feet; and the sloping snow-banks we were treading shelved off at such an alarming angle that it rendered the work more dangerous than pleasant. In this critical position I became painfully aware that I had frozen my left big toe; for the increased exertions and the lessening altitude were causing it to thaw. The pain was horrible; but presently the slope became less abrupt, and we stepped along at such a rate that 1,500 feet were negociated with considerable speed. Hurrah! we were again in bright sunshine; but the moment we stood still, the wind cut us to the bone. Before us lay the long looked-for Norðurland. We arrived at the bottom of the valley, and found it full of loose snow, which was knee-deep, for the crust was here much too light to bear our weight, and at every few feet we sunk into a miniature crevasse. After struggling on for some few hours, however, we pitched our tent.

Right thankful was I to get some warm soup and creep into the bag. One of my men--and a real good fellow he was--named Sigurð, cuddled my left foot in his arms, although my writhings kept him as well as myself awake while the others slept. I have had many parts of my body frozen, but I never suffered so much as from that toe.

After a few hours we again started; and although the sleigh travelled easily over the crust, we still broke through it, which occasioned me so much pain at every step that I sat upon the sleigh and was drawn along until we had descended so much that the crust ceased altogether. The snow terminated in a half-melted slush, lying upon a bottom of ice. Wading through the slush, which at times took us up to the waist, we next reached Kistufell, where the ice and snow terminated. Here we landed on a bed of volcanic débris, which covered the ice to such a depth that one could in no way, except by digging, distinguish it from the adjacent fjall. The Vatna Jökull now lay behind us with its mysterious recesses and volcanoes carefully guarded from intrusion by gloom and storm. To the north of us rose a cluster of mountains from which great quantities of steam were rising, and hovering above their summits in a huge mushroom-shaped cloud; to our left and west lay a wide-spreading lava-field, arms of which stretched amongst the neighbouring mountains like the troubled waters of a cindery ocean. Patches of black sand at intervals broke the continuity of this tract of lava, and culminated in a desert still farther to the north-east. Beyond, all the weird forms of fire-wrought mountains formed a fitting back-ground; their rude outlines rendered still more uncouth and grim by the fierce storms of ages. A huge tongue of glaciers at this point swept down to a distance of some ten miles beyond its most northern limit, as represented upon the map published by Olsen in 1844, from a survey made by Gunnlaugsson, in 1835. I here caught sight of Snæfell; and, upon taking its bearings with the smoking mountains, which were evidently the Dyngjufjöll, I found that instead of being at Querkfjall, which was the point I had intended to strike, we were upon the east side of Kistufell, about ten miles too much to the west. What astonished us most was (granted that we were at the east side of Kistufell) that we could see nothing of the Jökulsá-á-fjöllum, which river, upon Olsen’s map, rises at the foot of Kistufell; besides, upon his map the Jökull ends at Kistufell, while here a huge glacier extended east and north-east as far as the eye could reach, though exactly to our north and north-west it terminated abruptly, and only an insignificant river flowed to the north. We here abandoned our sleigh and snow-shoes which had served us so well, and whatever we no longer required, and, making everything into packs, continued our descent over huge piles of moraine, which doubtless covered glacial ice, buttresses and points of which here and there protruded. Having slidden down several steep slopes of snow, which had collected in all the hollows, affording us ready means of descent, we found ourselves at the height of 3,850 feet, in the bed of what evidently had been a large river, though now only an insignificant stream.

To our east and right stretched the immense glaciers before mentioned, completely overrunning the route taken by Gunnlaugsson in 1835, and diverting the source of the Jökulsá, which rises in several arms from the extremity of the glacial tongue before mentioned. Upon our left and west lay the wide-spreading lava-desert of the Ódáðahraun.

Our way over the sandy bottom of the grand old watercourse was an easy one to travel, for the sand had absorbed sufficient water to make it firm and compact. Our attention was engaged for some time in watching the fanciful shapes that crowned the dark wall of ice upon our right, on the opposite side of the stream which now lay between us and the glacier; and now and then we could not help stopping to peer into some of the dark chasms which seemed to penetrate into the heart of the icy monster, and to admire the little cataracts of foam which spouted from clefts in the dark green ice, or to wonder at some icy pinnacle or turret, that ever and again tumbled from, perhaps, some few hundred feet above us with a roar and a splash into the river, there to be slowly melted, while the sound of its downfall echoed and re-echoed amongst the cavernous openings in the glacier from which it had fallen! After an hour or so we settled on a low sandy island in the middle of the river, which must have formed formidable rapids when the immense stream that had hollowed out this mighty watercourse had roared over its bed; but it was shallow enough now, and by judiciously picking our way it scarcely reached up to our knees as we waded to the little island. I here noticed, as I had often done before, an intermittent occurrence of waves in certain portions of the stream. These, in large rivers, are rather terrible things, but here they were on so small a scale as to make their examination simply a safe indulgence of harmless curiosity. These waves occur in all the sandy rivers, and they are occasioned by the sand and detritus, which is brought down by the river in large quantities, accumulating against some obstacle until such a time as it forms rapids, which increase in proportion to the durability of this suddenly-formed sandbank. In most cases it readily yields to the action of the water, and is carried away; if, however, the material which is thus piled up should be of a heavier character than usual, it soon accumulates to such an extent as to resist the action of the water altogether, and cause the current to alter its course. This shows how the rivers of Iceland may be diverted and changed from this cause alone, converting shallows into deep water, and deep water into shallows, indeed altering the position and character of the rivers altogether.

As we lay down, the volcanoes in the Dyngjufjöll were smoking away with increased violence. My frost-bitten toe would not allow me to sleep much, so after a doze of two hours we started on our way; we had but two days’ full rations left, and as Grímstaðir was the nearest farm, a series of forced marches was necessary. Before us to the N.E. was a cluster of hills, which stretched from the southern extremity of the Dyngjufjöll in a S.E. direction towards the Jökulsá, upon the east and west sides of which valleys appeared to open northwards. Wishing, however, to get a good view of the country before us, as neither of us had been here before, and it was a matter of paramount importance that we should make no mistake as to the direction, I decided to steer for the centre of the hills, and to cross them. For a short distance we skirted the tongue of the Jökull, past a line of moraine which shewed that the glacier had ebbed as well as flowed, then bearing more to the north, after a hard walk of three hours we reached the hills before us. They were composed of the usual confusion of agglomerate, sand and lava, which had issued from it--it was impossible to say where; but they were evidently of a very ancient date, and many of the harder rocks were glaciated, while the softer ones were simply ruinous heaps. After an arduous scramble, we crossed these hills and reached the little desert of black volcanic sand we had seen from the northern edge of the Vatna Jökull. This sand plain lay between the Dyngjufjöll and a chain of mountains upon the opposite side of the Jökulsá-á-fjöllum. It was now raining somewhat heavily, but there was no fog; the burdens of my men were heavy, and I was carrying all I could manage with my bad foot. Under these conditions we were obliged often to rest, which much hindered in our progress. We sighted some low, black, misshapen volcanoes, about half way across the plain, and near these we determined to camp for the night. Two hours brought us to a field of lava which had flowed from and surrounded those eccentric little volcanoes which rose in four ghastly eminences in the centre of the plain, in no part more than 100 feet high. Tired as I was, and greatly inconvenienced by my foot, I could not refrain from examining them. They were situated upon a crack from which the lava had welled up in four mamelonic shapes, which in two instances showed irregular breached craters, nearly filled with sand, which had been drifted thither by the wind. The lava was basaltic, and of a remarkably scoriaceous nature, though in the immediate neighbourhood of the volcanoes no cinders were visible around them, so their eruptions must have been attended with but little of explosive character.

The worst feature of our night’s lodging was the absence of water, so I ordered the waterproof coats to be spread out to catch rain for our use in the morning.

It was 1.30 A.M. before we all turned in for the night. Sand is warm to camp upon, but it gets into everything, and when one is wet it sticks to clothes, &c., in a most objectionable manner. By six A.M. we were all awake, sufficient water had collected for immediate use, and we were soon all under weigh over the lava, which in most places flowed very evenly, and being of a more compact character than that which was close to the volcanoes we had just left, had allowed little pools of rain water to collect upon the surface. We marched for four hours, and then struck a large river upon our east. This was the Jökulsá-á-fjöllum. After following its course for some time, we decided to “cache” everything but the remainder of our provisions, our maps, and my diary, for it was my intention to return with horses to the Dyngjufjöll mountains which now lay to our N.W., when I could recover them without much difficulty. Having carefully made our “cache,” we planted a flag-pole upon an adjacent sandbank, and having carefully taken its bearings, struck for the Vaðalda hills, which were not very far distant. These hills run for some nine miles parallel with the course of the Jökulsá; their base being washed by the Svartá, or Black river, which rises in the Dyngjufjöll, but is soon lost in the sand, re-appearing on the Svartá at the commencement of the Vaðalda. Upon the opposite side of this river we found a root of angelica (Icelandic, _hvönn_), the stem and root of which we shared and ate with great relish; we also saw two white sheep, but how they manage to eke out an existence must have puzzled their sheeps’ heads not a little. Though, proverbially, two heads are better than one, I doubt if the proverb would hold good in their case, but there may be some grass in glens which I have not seen in the Ódáðahraun, where enough herbage may grow to feed Icelandic sheep, as they are not very dainty, and are accustomed to short commons.

The Vaðalda hills, although of no great height, command an extensive view towards the Vatna Jökull, and upon reaching their summit I glanced back over the plain. It was one broad wilderness of black sand and lava, girt about with ridges of volcanic mountains, whose numerous cones and chasms have vomited the immense amount of ash, sand and lava with which the surrounding country is covered. In the centre of the plain rose the little volcanoes by which we had encamped the previous night, grimly and perkily protruding, as if they aped their monster brethren around them. Beyond all was the wide, white expanse of the Vatna Jökull, from which a huge tongue of glacier extended more than half way across the plain; from its extremity commenced the river we had been following (the Jökulsá-á-fjöllum), which stretched through the black bare plain sometimes in many arms, enclosing little islands of black sand and pebbles in its sinuous embrace, then surging along through a single deep channel it had worn for itself in the sand, where the unstable banks, even while we gazed on them, were crumbling and falling in, patch after patch of sand rendering still more murky its already discoloured waters.

From here I obtained the first good view of the Querkfjall, which appeared to be a cluster of conical mountains, one huge crater being on the northern side of the Vatna Jökull. This large crater, though partially filled with snow, was smoking at three points, but presented no other signs of activity. Having advanced about a mile upon the Vaðalda, we were soon upon the pumice which was ejected last year from the Öskjugjá, or chasm of oval casket, in the Dyngjufjöll mountains. It has fallen in a line of about twenty-five miles in breadth from the centre of the Vaðalda to the south of Herðubreið, in a band of continually extending ladià eastward towards the sea shore, destroying in its course six farms in the Jökuldalr, and injuring others in the immediate vicinity. This shows that the prevalent winds during the eruption of Öskjugjá must have been south-west.

This pumice is of a remarkably vitreous nature and vesicular in structure, often assuming very beautiful forms, such as sponge, honeycomb, coral or grained wood. As far as the eye could see, the whole country was buried under greyish cinders, often to the depth of several feet; while in places it had been swept up into huge banks of many feet in thickness by the wind, sometimes burying whole lava fields, the more elevated crags of which protruded, as if struggling to get free, and proclaim the existence of the lava stream underneath. We descended into a valley in which everything, like the surrounding country, was covered with the same white greyish pumice, except where the darkly-flowing river wound silently along, deep, black and foul, bearing upon its surface floating islands of pumice.

The pumice had evidently fallen upon the winter’s snow, for a thick layer lay underneath, protected by the cinders from the influences of the summer temperature. Ever and again this substratum gave way, and we sank deeply into a mixture of snow and ashes. It was trying work, but we were well warmed, and pushed on at a good pace. We again climbed to the crest of the hills, and another valley opened to our view, running S.S.E., and another river not marked upon Olsen’s map helped to swell the waters of the Jökulsá, while the river at our feet poured through a rocky chasm it had worn for itself; further on was a jam of floating pumice which blocked up a portion of the river, causing it in some places to look precisely similar to the adjacent ground. Presently, a wide plain opened before us, from which rose a lofty mountain, shaped like a huge pork-pie, crusted over with ice and snow upon its flattened summit, which rose gradually to a fantastic, ornamental apex in the centre. This was Herðubreið, and it was at once recognised by Paul, who had been in the north of Iceland before. Beyond Herðubreið the country was of a darker hue, no doubt caused by the absence of the pumice, which had not fallen upon the sand and lava desert of the Mývatns Örœfí. We now halted to determine our exact position. We found we were about forty-five miles from Grímstaðir, and upon the north end of the Vaðalda, and as it would be necessary to hit the exact spot where the boat was kept, Grímstaðir being upon the east side of the river and we upon the west, we agreed to follow the course of the Jökulsá. This river, in the map, appeared to flow pretty nearly straight, but in reality does no such thing. As food was getting short we took a light meal off our pipes, and reviewed our supplies. We had a half-pound pot of chocolate and cream, about a pound of hard tack, half a pound of butter, and three square inches of “gravy soup”--rather short commons for six men, with forty-five miles, at the very least computation, of the very roughest country possible before them, and which, as we intended to follow the course of the river the greater part of the way, would be sure to develop into considerably more.

There was a lovely yellow sunset as we descended the northern slope of the Vaðalda; the sun was waning towards the north, and the ashen covering of the surrounding mountains reflected an unearthly light, which added a ghastly grandeur to the chaotic desolation through which we were passing, while we ourselves, dirty, brown, and wayworn, as we travelled almost noiselessly in our moccasins over the ash-strewn ground, seemed fitting representatives of the outlaws and evil spirits with which tradition had peopled this wild region. A very suitable abode it seemed for all of evil omen, but even such must have had a hard time of it if the country were in their day such as it is now, which probably was not the case.

By two A.M. we rested, purposing to take a couple of hours’ sleep. I scooped out a place for myself in the cinders, and lying down under the lee of a large stone, covered myself over with my mackintosh coat. Unfortunately my men could not sleep as they were so cold, so we soon resumed our journey. At five A.M. we were due east of Herðubreið, where we took a slight meal, the most prominent feature of which was water from the Jökulsá. We were travelling over an old lava stream nearly covered with pumice, and the river had assumed formidable proportions, having been joined by a third arm upon the east side, which roared over the lava in its bed. The sun was shining brightly, the clouds were beginning to melt away from the summit of Herðubreið, leaving a cloudless sky; a slight frost was glistening upon everything and stiffening our beards, the pumice was getting thinner and thinner, and presently altogether disappeared. Before us lay a broad waste of sand and lava, and in the far distance loomed the mountains of Mývatn, which Paul recognised as old friends, as some years of his life had been spent in the Mývatn sveit. For the first few miles my foot troubled me a good deal, but as soon as I got warm the pain ceased, and as the day promised to be hot, we made the most of these early hours.

Following the course of the river, we found ourselves upon a plain of sand and pebbles, and as we advanced, a little scanty herbage began to make its appearance, while occasional sheep tracks showed that sheep in this quarter were, as usual, wont to stray from richer and more plentiful pastures to those which afforded but a poor and meagre supply. By 8.30 we reached the little river Grafalandá, which here flows into the Jökulsá; and here there was plenty of grass. The sun now shone warmly, and as we were not more than twenty-seven miles from Grímstaðir in a straight line, we lay down and slept for two hours. Upon rising we still followed the river, which, as before remarked, is by no means a straight one. Our road now lay through a considerable quantity of thick herbage, principally galix and coarse grass. Some hills here interrupted our progress, the base of which was washed by the river, and since no way was possible between the river and the over-hanging cliffs, for the river here took a great turn eastward, we decided to ascend the hills. The summits of these, as is often the case in Iceland, were formed of stones imbedded in sand and decomposed rock, after the fashion of a loosely macadamized road. This is doubtless caused by the heavy covering of the winter’s snow, which presses down the stones, and then as it melts converts the material in which they are embodied into slush, into which the fragments of rock, &c., readily sink, so that when the water has drained off and the fine weather comes, it is found transformed into a kind of cement, for the decomposed fellspathic lavas especially set very firmly under such circumstances. By three P.M. we reached a delightful little mountain stream brawling over the rocks and lava, fertilizing the parts of the mountain through which it ran, and calling into birth green borders of galix and grass, forming a beautiful little cascade directly in our path. Here we halted; the sun was intensely hot, but it felt rather comfortable than otherwise. Here we found an abundant growth of angelica, which we ate with the remainder of our provisions. We then washed our socks and laid down to sleep, lulled by the bubble of the stream and the sweet fresh smell of the herbage around us, which our long absence from everything that could produce so agreeable an aroma rendered all the more welcome.

Evening came before we again started, and our road was through a deep loose sand, which was very trying and heavy to our feet, for beneath this was a layer of pure white ash of the consistency of flour--probably decomposed pumice. When this was mixed with sand, it seemed to be a good fertilizer, for wherever it occurred a patch of wild oats was the invariable result. Before we again reached the river, we found it cut directly through a cluster of low mountains, striking a field of very dark and almost vitreous lava. By midnight we sighted Grímstaðir to the S.E., upon the opposite side of the river, although at some considerable distance, and the ferry was beyond the farm, to the north of it. We followed closely down the bank of the river that we might not miss it, for there was no track to guide one across the Mývatns Örœfí, and it was a good three hours before we found the boat, which was a leaky concern, but by dint of bailing and rowing we eventually reached the opposite side. Five A.M. saw us arrived at Grímstaðir, much to the surprise of the occupants, who had not at all expected the intrusion of six men _on foot_ at such an hour, and from such a quarter.

The bóndi having been roused, the whole establishment turned out to have a look at us. Grímstaðir was decidedly the best and most extensive farm I had seen in the island, except, perhaps, Breiðarbólstað in Rangarvallasýsla. The bóndi was a good type of the genuine old-fashioned Icelander, and everything in the place was cleanly and comfortable. He had passed all his life in the north of the island, and had not ever journeyed to Reykjavík.

There was a good-sized windmill in front of the farm, to grind the rye and wheat sold by the store-keepers; and this was a very great improvement upon the old stone handmill so generally used in other parts of the country, especially in the south. Windmills seem to be rather a characteristic of the north of Iceland. My first object was to procure coffee and a good meal; this having been secured, I proceeded to purchase four sheep, and give instructions for their death and disposal. One was destined for immediate use, the other three to be made into pemmican, their skins being dried for carriage to England.

What a glorious institution is a bed! What a happy thought it was of the man who first conceived the idea of taking off his clothes before turning into it! What luxury! a tub, hot water, soap, a sponge, a towel, clean sheets, an eiderdown quilt, a little tallow for my poor sore nose, and sleep! What sublimity of comfort! Well, I slept as only a well-worn traveller could sleep, till I was roused by the novel sound of a knock at the door of my room. “What’s the matter? Who’s there?” My watch said twelve o’clock.

It was the bóndi’s daughter, with coffee and a plate full of delicate little pancakes, each carefully rolled up with a few raisins inside, and nicely powdered over with white sugar. Forgive the weakness, good reader, but that little tray! Can I ever forget it or its contents, to say nothing of its comely bearer? Will I have any more? Oh yes, by all means. My mid-day meal became an interesting speculation, to say nothing of the comely bearer of it, through whom I ordered sheep’s fry, and ere long was greeted with its savoury smell.

Paul had gone to Reikjahlíð to try and hire a man and some horses to enable us to go to Öskjugjá (the volcano we had seen smoking), for my own horses had not yet arrived, but I learnt that it was almost impossible to obtain either horses or men, as all were engaged in gathering in the hay harvest.

In the afternoon two students arrived from the college at Reykjavík to spend their vacation in the north, and a merry evening we had of it with my men, who were in high spirits at having fairly reached the Norðurland by a route which had never before been trodden by the foot of man, since their island first rose above the waters of the North Atlantic--a feat that would immortalise their names in local Icelandic history!

We had then travelled from Núpstað in the south of the island to Grímstaðir in the north, a distance of about 270 miles, in sixteen days, twelve of which had been passed amongst the regions of perpetual snow. I must here remark that the pluck, perseverance, and obedience of the Icelanders who accompanied me are deserving of all praise; for without them I could never have crossed the Vatna Jökull. The next day was Sunday, and at breakfast I was informed that the bóndi would read a service in the baðstofa, an apartment for general use. This room was filled with little truck bedsteads, and somewhat reminded me of a hospital. All the household were gathered about, neat and orderly, sitting on the bedsteads, and the service consisted of singing, reading, and prayer.

One cannot help noticing the softening and harmonising influences of all forms of civilized religion when not clouded by fanaticism, more especially among those whose lives are spent in close contact with the ruder elements of the world.

The beautiful clear sunny weather continued, enabling us on the following day to obtain a good view of the distant hills of the Mývatn, across the arid waste of the Mývatns Örœfí, where occasional puffs of wind were raising small clouds of the light volcanic sand, carrying them high into the air. Sometimes, too, circular currents raised screw-shaped columns of sand, which now and then increased to rather formidable dimensions, and even crossed the Jökulsá, blinding the chance traveller, and scaring any stray sheep that might be cropping the tufts of scant herbage sprinkled at long intervals over the plain.

The volcano in the Dyngjufjöll was smoking away with greater ferocity than ever, and the dark columns which formed the centre of the great mushroom of vapour which still hung over these remarkable mountains showed that something heavier than steam was being ejected.

Paul returned in the evening with a man from Grœnavatn, named Thorlákur, who was to accompany me to the Ódáðahraun and the Dyngjufjöll, but my difficulty lay in not having sufficient horses, as Paul had found it impossible either to buy or hire more than two, and they belonged to Thorlákur; and as I could not afford to wait for my own, I was compelled to modify my plan of operations. Requiring a fresh supply of necessaries, I first despatched Paul to the stores at Vopnfjörðr, and then, with the rest of my men and Thorlákur, set out for the Ódáðahraun on foot, one horse carrying hay and the other provisions. Our first stage was to be the Grafalandá, where there was plenty of grass, and our next some point between the Dyngjufjöll mountains and the river Svartá, within easy reach of the baggage I had left behind. From here I determined to start with Thorlákur and Eyólfur, while the rest returned to the Grafalandá with everything we did not absolutely need, directing them in the meantime to fetch more provisions from Grímstaðir, and a sufficient number of my own horses (which doubtless by that time would have arrived) to carry us and our belongings from the Grafalandá to Mývatn.

In the evening two of the farm servants, who were refugees from some of the devastated farms in the Jökuldalr, recounted their experiences during the eruptions of last spring, which, however, by no means damped the ardour of my men.

The next day was spent in completing my preparations, and in the evening, we bade adieu to Paul and our good friends at Grímstaðir, after which we again turned our faces towards the mountains.

My supplies now consisted of 50 lbs. of pemmican, 25 lbs. of bread, 10 lbs. of butter, two large dried trout from Mývatn, and about half-a-gallon of corn brandy.