Emotional Landscapes, they puzzle me
Tara and I woke up early to begin our two day journey of southern Iceland. I think we did an exceptional job.
We drove about an hour to a junction in the middle of nowhere, where we would pay about 50 dollars each to join a bus tour to þorsmörk, The Valley of Thor. While waiting for the bus to arrive, we visited a nearby waterfall. Due to the way the water had carved the rock, we were able to walk behind the waterfall and only get moderately cold and wet. We talked about immigration in the United States and Iceland while being pounded by powerful, cold wind.
The bus to þorsmörk was unlike any bus on which I have ever travelled. I was aware that the journey to this very popular hiking area was accessible only to 4WD vehicles, I did not realize that we would be crossing glacial rivers (without the aid of bridges) while the bus rocked back and forth.
The valley appears to be created by glacial runoff from a nearby icecap, of which we were able to catch a few glimpses from our hike. For the first 45 minutes, we mostly travelled upwards, watching the base camp fade from view and the flora changing from wet bushes and mushrooms to grass and moss. It was beautiful, but due to the fact that we both became quickly fatigued by the rapid ascent, we decided to loop our way down. This was much more difficult than we had planned. The man at the visitor center had informed us that we "couldn´t get lost" on the path, but we managed to find ourselves far from where we wanted to me, and nearly made an unnecessary forge across a quickly moving glacier stream before Tara convinced me to ask for directions. The landscape changes rapidly in Iceland. Sometimes barren volcanic rock, sometimes forest, and sometimes like southern California chaparall. We stopped at the base camp cafe for some hot dogs, coffee and chit chat before getting on the bus back to my car.
We drove a long way, past Vik, through barren lavafields, through a dust storm, across bridged glacial rivers to a farmhouse hostel in the middle of nowhere near the Snaftafell National Park. After being accustomed to the smallness of Reykjavik (under 200,000 people), Stikkishölmur (1300) and Vik (300), I was still shocked by the remoteness of Hvoll. Here, there was almost nothing for many kilometers, but the hostel was full of French tourists, preparing an elaborate dinner over the course of several hours. Tara and I met a very friendly American couple who was part of the French tour group who offered us some delicious soup and also a L.A. based video artist named Joan Perlman, who after a series of 50 dreams about Iceland decided to make it the long term subject of her work. Interesting. Tara and I had a few beers and a wimpy dinner (crackers and a ham sandwich) before heading off to bed. I stepped outside before going to sleep in hopes of seeing the Northern Lights (as some at the hostel in Vik had claimed to have seen the night before), but I had no such luck.
We drove about an hour to a junction in the middle of nowhere, where we would pay about 50 dollars each to join a bus tour to þorsmörk, The Valley of Thor. While waiting for the bus to arrive, we visited a nearby waterfall. Due to the way the water had carved the rock, we were able to walk behind the waterfall and only get moderately cold and wet. We talked about immigration in the United States and Iceland while being pounded by powerful, cold wind.
The bus to þorsmörk was unlike any bus on which I have ever travelled. I was aware that the journey to this very popular hiking area was accessible only to 4WD vehicles, I did not realize that we would be crossing glacial rivers (without the aid of bridges) while the bus rocked back and forth.
The valley appears to be created by glacial runoff from a nearby icecap, of which we were able to catch a few glimpses from our hike. For the first 45 minutes, we mostly travelled upwards, watching the base camp fade from view and the flora changing from wet bushes and mushrooms to grass and moss. It was beautiful, but due to the fact that we both became quickly fatigued by the rapid ascent, we decided to loop our way down. This was much more difficult than we had planned. The man at the visitor center had informed us that we "couldn´t get lost" on the path, but we managed to find ourselves far from where we wanted to me, and nearly made an unnecessary forge across a quickly moving glacier stream before Tara convinced me to ask for directions. The landscape changes rapidly in Iceland. Sometimes barren volcanic rock, sometimes forest, and sometimes like southern California chaparall. We stopped at the base camp cafe for some hot dogs, coffee and chit chat before getting on the bus back to my car.
We drove a long way, past Vik, through barren lavafields, through a dust storm, across bridged glacial rivers to a farmhouse hostel in the middle of nowhere near the Snaftafell National Park. After being accustomed to the smallness of Reykjavik (under 200,000 people), Stikkishölmur (1300) and Vik (300), I was still shocked by the remoteness of Hvoll. Here, there was almost nothing for many kilometers, but the hostel was full of French tourists, preparing an elaborate dinner over the course of several hours. Tara and I met a very friendly American couple who was part of the French tour group who offered us some delicious soup and also a L.A. based video artist named Joan Perlman, who after a series of 50 dreams about Iceland decided to make it the long term subject of her work. Interesting. Tara and I had a few beers and a wimpy dinner (crackers and a ham sandwich) before heading off to bed. I stepped outside before going to sleep in hopes of seeing the Northern Lights (as some at the hostel in Vik had claimed to have seen the night before), but I had no such luck.
posted by Jed at 6:06 AM
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