Pen and pencil sketches of Faröe and Iceland

by Andrew James Symington

The overflow of the Geysers comes down, steaming, to the river, through the brown shingle which is variegated here and there with little strips and patches of verdure. After great eruptions there is some body of water; at other times it merely trickles, spread over a wide bed.

Wandering about, I visited every one of the springs alone. In the south corner of the Geyser ground, steaming pits occur every little bit: the crust there is very thin, so that one requires to tread with caution. Some of them are merely holes in this thin crust, showing steaming pools of hot water, flush with the surface and extending under it; others are holes in rocks, deep, dark and craggy, with the water far down boiling furiously and seething in white foam; such is Strokr. Some are as if one looked down the kitchen chimney of a castle in the olden time when good cheer was preparing: you hear boiling going on but see nothing, for all is dark. Others throw up jets of steam. At many places you hear internal cauldrons boiling violently, at others you can also see puffs of steam escaping at intervals from small clay holes. The Little Geyser enlivens the scene by throwing up many jets of steaming water, at different angles, playing like a fountain several times in the course of an hour or so; nor does the great Geyser allow itself to be long forgotten: loud noises, rising bells of water, and other premonitory symptoms frequently calling us up to its side in expectation of grand eruptions; for, more perfect in its formation and larger than any of the other springs, it is justly regarded as the chief attraction of the place.

Sir George Mackenzie attempted to explain the mechanism of the Geyser eruptions, by supposing that the tube was fed from hot water confined in a neighbouring subterranean cavern. This water was forced into and up the tube by the pressure of steam, accumulated between the surface of the water and the roof of the hypothetical cavern, when it had attained power sufficient to overcome the resistance of the column of water contained in the tube.

For several reasons, this explanation is unsatisfactory; and the more likely theory is the chemical one, propounded by Bunsen who spent eleven days here. In few words it is as follows. The water in the lower part of the tube gets heated far above the boiling point by the surrounding strata; water, thus super-heated for a length of time, is known to undergo certain changes which materially modify its composition; particles of air are expelled, the component molecules consequently adhere more closely together, so that it requires a much higher temperature to make it boil. When, however, under these conditions, it does boil, the production of steam is so great and instantaneous as sufficiently to account for all the phenomena of a Geyser eruption.

This theory is supported by various facts. The temperature, both in the Geyser tube and in Strokr, gradually rises towards the bottom, and increases before eruptions. It has actually been found as high as 261° Fahrenheit, which is 39° above the boiling point. In ordinary circumstances it would be found equal throughout, or, if a difference were appreciable, the hottest water, being the lightest, would rise to the top. Stones have been suspended at the bottom and remained undisturbed by eruptions, showing that the super-heating process went on above them in the tube itself; and lastly, M. Donny, of Ghent, has produced precisely the same effects in miniature; using for the experiment a brass tube stopped with a cork, and heating it all round with charcoal fires; one, if we remember rightly, at the bottom of the pipe, and another half-way up.

This theory would also explain the terrific and destructive water eruptions of Kötlugjá, provided the water actually does come from the crater, as is said, and not rather from the great deposits of surface snow and ice melted by the internal heat of the mountain. One of these eruptions in 1755—the year of the earthquake at Lisbon—destroyed 50 farms in the low country, with many men and cattle. Of the two Geyser-theories, Bunsen’s is the more likely to prove the correct one.

After exploring the plain and gazing on the farm of Haukadal, which is situated on a height about three quarters of a mile to the north of the Geyser and celebrated as the birth-place of Ari Frodi the earliest historian of the north and the first compiler of the Landnámabok, accompanied by Mr. Murray, I ascended the hill behind so as to get a complete bird’s-eye view of the Geyser ground, and the whole valley of Haukadal or Hawk-dale. The view of this singular region from thence, is peculiar, and I shall try to convey an idea of it, even at the risk of repetition.

Below, a green marshy plain runs nearly north and south; the river, winding through it, shows here and there little serpentine reaches of water like bits of mirror; the horizon, on the south and south-east, is bounded by a low sloping range of purple hills, and several low detached heights shaped like the Nineveh mounds. On the north and north-east rise several distant mountains. One of them is a Jökul, with perpetual snow and ice on its summit, and ribbed with white streaks down its sides. On the west is the hill-range on which we now stand. It is considerably higher, rougher, and wilder in character than the heights on the other side of the valley. Near the foot of the hills, at our feet, are bluff banks covered with reddish irony mould, not unlike old red sandstone; these deposits however we afterwards found to be fine clay, containing iron oxidized by exposure to the air, and very slippery to walk upon. From these red banks there stretches a gentle slope, mostly covered with a brown and white silicious stuff like slag, such as is seen on many garden walks. On this little slope are the Geysers; and all the springs occur within the small space of about fifty acres.

The great Geyser is the most northern, and lies on our extreme left. From where we stand, it resembles an artificial mill pond with an embankment rising all round it and slanting—to compare great things with small—like the sides of a limpet-shell from which the top or cone has been struck off. Clouds of white vapour hovered over it, as it lay gleaming like a silver shield. Near it, is our tent, and a heap of boxes, saddles, and other gear lying piled on the ground.

A little higher up and nearer us, on the right, lies the tranquil and beautiful spring of Blesi. More to the right, but lower down, that dark hole like a well is Strokr. Yet further, in the same direction, the little Geyser is in full play, sending up numerous jets of water like a fountain; while volumes of steam are rising from it, and rolling away to the south. To the right of the little Geyser, and on the slope which runs down eastward below it, are numerous little round pools, close together, which reflect the sky, and look as if they were blue eyes gazing from earth to heaven. Little jets and puffs of white vapour rise from among them. Several farms are in sight; cattle are grazing on the plain; tern and snipe are flying athwart the sky; wind-clouds are gathering in the north; but the hazy veil in the south-east, which conceals Hekla and other mountains in that direction, has not been lifted. Instead of being sated with the scene before us, wonder increases every time we survey it, or dwell on the striking features of its marvellous phenomena.