Green Sky at Night, Quite a Delight...

So Monday night was Valentine's night, and I arranged a light show for my fellow interns to commemorate the day.  Of course, by "I" I mean the magnetic pull of the Earth's poles mixed with solar flares, by "arranged" I mean I was a lucky fool to witness, and by "light show" I mean the most ridiculously amazing natural thing I've probably ever seen in the sky (so I suppose that last description is still fairly valid).  I've seen the Northern Lights already on two or three occasions in the last month and a half, but never anything like this.  Before they were just faint wisps of green in the night sky; last night they were undulating streams of electric rain shooting across our entire field of vision and beyond, curling, waving, and pulsating before fading away again.  Definitely an encounter with the Sublime, one so powerful it would have knocked poor Wordsworth right out of his little paddleboat - the only thing we could do was slump to the ground and lie on our backs, mouths agape and appendages slowly numbing in the snow.  The Lights were so strong, you could actually hear them, a slight swishing now and then.  Much louder, and perhaps more atmospheric, was the fitful sound of the unseen horses left to pasture in the field behind our house.  The horses apparently didn't see the romantic side of this mesmerising display; I suppose if I were a horse, I'd have been a bit freaked out too.

Because the Lights were constantly moving, I wasn't able to get decent photos of them.  However, take two parts the photos below, one part the swirling waves from "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" in Fantasia (if your memory is failing you, see from 3:45 onwards here) and you should have the right idea.  If you really want to get authentic, mix in some uneasy horse whinnies and lie down in a pile of snow/ice for half an hour.

Since last we spoke (well, since I spoke; if this is a conversation I'm not being very equal with the discussion. That said, please do comment and discuss and revel in the new cultural pastime of blogmenting; Talk to me!) I've been to Reykjavik and back in one piece - although it was fairly touch and go at times - and we made a "class trip", so to speak, to Geysir, Gulfoss, and Þingvellir.  I won't bore you with the details of Reykjavik, but the other three are worth a mention.  

Þingvellir (pronounced "Thingvellir") was the site of the meeting of the Icelandic Parliament from 930 to 1789.  All the laws were discussed and decided there, so it's a very important place for Iceland's history.  It's also a hotbed of geothermal activity.  It sits on the continental drift between the North American and Eurasian Plates, and it's literally ripping at the seams.  Last week alone, they experienced something like 12 earthquakes there.  

The craic was mighty in Þingvellir...

Gulfoss is pretty self-explanatory when you see the pictures, but it's also pretty, hence the pictures.  

Geysir is even self-explanatory without pictures, but here are some anyway.  This geysir goes about every 7 minutes.  The larger one has been dormant for the past few years.  For a while they were able to prod it into activity by dumping loads of salt into it, but they gave that up after a while. 

Along with reading A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and attempting to knit myself a pair of mittens, the discussions and debates that naturally arise when nine liberal-minded engaged people are put under the same roof are proving an interesting way to while away the Icelandic evenings.  Some of these conversations are less articulate than others; I have recollections of attempting to explain to Paulo how shareholders in a company work using cold, leftover chips as my medium after a decent amount of the cheapest wine we could find last week.  However, sharing insights and resources is always going to be valuable.  Thanks to Yvonne I've been watching Zeitgeist, which is a documentary that attempts to analyse the current malaise affecting humankind, addressing it from a cultural, religious, and financial standpoint.  I haven't finished it yet so I can't speak for it as a whole; what I can say is that it's free (you can watch it on YouTube or on the site) and that it raises some very good points.  I find its critique of corporate capitalism particularly interesting.  It's 2 hours and 41 minutes long, so if you're looking for something engaging to watch of an evening, I'd recommend it.  No indoctrination, no brainwashing.  Just have an open mind and you never know what it might inspire.  

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We're currently awaiting the potentially mind-blowing Northern Lights tonight, caused by the biggest solar flare in four years.  The only thing that might rain on our parade is the clouds (Sorry, couldn't resist...); last night was supposed to be even more spectacular than Monday, but there was nary a flicker seen through the foggy blanket.  We found our own spectacle, though - we went adventuring to an obscure natural hot pot, hidden away in the side of a mountain, nothing but a little snow-covered path off a dirt road (off a dirt road off a gravel road off a side road) and a No Camping sign to indicate its existence.  

On a night like last night, I can see why the Icelanders are so superstitious about elves.  There we were, sitting in volcanically heated water in what for all the world looked like a stone and peat-lined grave, surrounded on all sides by rolling hills bathed in eerie moonlight, the only sounds the trickling water and the howling wind.  So I did the only thing an able-minded, logical person would do: I sprinted out of the hot pot, soaking wet in the frigid wind, and dove back into the little hut we had put our clothes in to get my camera and take some pictures.   See if you can spot the elves.

The hardest part of hot-tubbing in Iceland is the entering and exiting.  As you're changing into your swimsuit, listening to the wind outside, you do question your sanity.  But once the barefoot speed-shuffle carries you to the water, you're grand.  You relax, forget about the whole thing, and turn to mush.  However, then comes the getting out bit.  It took a good 10 minutes to steel ourselves for the task.  When we all piled back into the little shed, we had to exercise our changing-in-the-dark-as-quickly-as-possible-before-hypothermia-onset talents (which I apparently do not possess, as I realised once we got home that the majority of my personal effects had been donned backwards and inside out.)  Despite its perils, it is always worth it, especially in as magical a setting as we were fortunate enough to enjoy last night.  Cheers, Mother Nature, you've done it again.

More photos here (also includes some pretty great Northern Lights shots from last week).

Not So Vik-torious This Time...

Last weekend we set out for an adventure with our newly acquired wheels, and an adventure we received, albeit not in the manner we had anticipated.  It was probably the worst weather we've had since arriving: raining, sleeting, windy, cold, fairly miserable all around.  However, in Iceland if you let the weather scare you off you won't get up to all that much, so we piled into the cars anyway and headed along Route 1 (the only major road in the country outside of the capital) to Vik, which is the southernmost point of the island.

Our first stop was Seljalandsfoss, a waterfall just off of the Ring Road.  Its claim to fame is the fact that you can walk behind the water, making it a pretty impressive sight. My poor camera got fairly soaked between the rain and the spray from the falls, but I managed to get a few shots before scrambling up the snow-packed slope on the other side.

Ooooh, streaky...

We then proceeded down the Ring Road towards Vik, passing the infamous Eyjafjallajökull - you know, the one that caused all that chaos with European flights last year?  (Oh by the way, to all the English and Irish readers out there, I've been informed Iceland wants the ash back.  And yes, I can finally pronounce the name, more or less, correctly; my main goal in coming here has been accomplished.)  This particular stretch of road took quite some time, as every minute or so Paulo made us pull over because, "This is the farm that was in all the photos when the volcano erupted!"..."Actually I made a mistake back there, but this is the farm that was in the photos.  That other one, that was in some photos too."..."Look, guys, this is all ash from the volcano when it erupted!" At this point we thought it was appropriate to point out that the entire island was made up of volcanic ash, and it was time for lunch.  But here are the fruits of Paulo's labour anyway:

Famous Farm and Eyjafjallajökull

Well, if you can't beat them...

The weather worsened as we drove higher into the mountains; the rain became heavier, the fog thicker, but none of this mattered because we were nearly in Vik, and could scarcely imagine the wonders that awaited us there: quaint coffee shops, a cosy pub for a pint with the locals, perhaps a trendy hostel where we could spend the night revelling in the atmosphere of the town.  And then we arrived, after two and a half hours of driving, and we found...well, not a whole lot.  It was only after we got there that I learned the factoid of Vik's population: about 300, give or take.  And on a wet, stormy day in January, there may as well have been no-one there; we didn't see a soul.  

Spirits were a bit soggy at this point as we discussed what we should do next.  It was decided that those who could brave the elements would trudge a few minutes to the black sand beach Vik is famous for, and the rest would go in search of life to find out if there was any diversion to be found in the area.  I joined the ranks of the first group, and I'm really glad I did.  After scrambling over a hillock, down a ravine, through a running track (oddly enough), and over the dunes I was faced with a very pissed off Poseidon, and it was simply awesome (in the true sense of the word, inspiring awe, not in the "Dude, this piece of cheese totally looks like a turtle, awesome!" sense).  The sand, actually pulverised lava, had an inky sheen to it, and the waves were foamy masses of pure elemental rage.  The wind spat freezing rain at us, and its roar combined with the waves made talking to each other nearly impossible, so we just stared in silence.  It's one of those places that really needs to be experienced first-hand, and I'd encourage anyone who finds themselves in Iceland to do so.  Staring off into the Atlantic Ocean, being taunted and battered by the sea and wind, it makes you realise that despite all our civilisation and fancy habits, we really are at the mercy of the elements; we're just very poorly behaved guests.

On the way back to the cars, Paulo told me a bit about the town.  The church is the emergency meeting point for the villagers; when Katla erupts - it is a case of when rather than if: Katla is active and hasn't erupted since 1918, leading to speculation that it will erupt very soon, maybe even this year - it will completely obliterate the town, and the church is the only building high enough to potentially survive.  Now, since Katla's explosive tendancies are well-known, and Vik has had these issues before, it kind of begs the question why they didn't shift the town a few hundred meters up the mountain and to the left or right, out of the direct line of lava, but...I don't know.

                                      

Anyway, the other half of our group also had a successful jaunt.  While there was absolutely nothing open in the town, there was a good viewing point about a half hour's drive away that we could visit.  With the weather we were a bit concerned about the conditions of the road, but the locals had said they should be fine (remember this point; it will come in handy later).  We headed back up into the mountains, and turned off the paved road onto the gravel one.  Not great, but not too bad.  A minute or so later, we turned from the gravel road onto a dirt, now mud, road.  Not good, very bad.  Within half a minute both cars were stuck.  A Skoda and a Ford Focus do not an intrepid exploration convoy make.  

"The Crunch" in a bind

For the next hour and a half, the eight of us mucked about in the lashing rain, piling rocks under the wheels and bailing out mud with our hands and a couple of shovels we'd found by the nearby empty farm.  It all looked a bit futile, and we only had about an hour of daylight left.  Soaked and cold in the dark on a deserted road is not a fantastic situation to be in, all things considered.  However, one of our group had made friends with a girl who worked in a sandwich shop last time he was in Iceland.  That girl then went on to become part of Iceland's Search and Rescue team, and was stationed in Vik.  She also happened to be home that evening, and answered her phone.  I know, we are jammy dodgers indeed.  So after a very wet and muddy period of time, a massive wheeled Jeep came and pulled us out.  We all grinned like the very silly tourists we were and murmured "Takk fyrir" over and over until the poor cars were freed from their mucky graves and we were back on terra firma, scuttling our way back to Sólheimar.

All in all, I do believe our first excursion was a success.  We wanted an adventure, we got an adventure.  All the same, this weekend we've decided to play it slightly safer and head to Reykjavik, where hopefully the biggest mire we'll get ourselves into is trying to decide which pub to patronise.  

More photos here.