The hour was now approaching when our caravan was to make its start for the Geysers, so we returned to the town. Here the landlord's daughter, at our request, exhibited herself in her fête attire, in which she made a quaint and pretty picture. The dress consisted of a thickly-pleated black silk skirt, very full and somewhat short, embroidered round the bottom with a deep band of gold thread; a black bodice, also similarly embroidered with gold down the front and round the collar; a handsome necklet and girdle of silver gilt, and a high head-dress of white muslin, in appearance resembling a Normandy cap. This, she told us, she always wore on Sundays and great occasions, dressing like an Englishwoman on week days.
We found our ponies all in readiness at the appointed hour, and our excitement may be imagined when we caught sight of our cavalcade, with its appendages, drawn up in order before the so-called hotel, for our former excursions were as nothing compared to the undertaking which now lay before us, and we realised that all our energy would be required for the enterprise.
Behold our party, then. Two ladies and three gentlemen; two guides, one being employed as pony-driver; seven ponies for riding, and seven for changing on the road; three pack ponies, two laden with our luggage, and one[p. 99] with tents; and three unladen ponies for exchange weights: twenty in all, a goodly company of quadrupeds, well selected and sure-footed. The ponies, too, besides being picked ones for the work, were well 'trapped,' and newly shod, with the saddles, girths, straps, and buckles all in order. So at least 'Zoega' told us, with an assurance that we might depend on his forethought, adding that if we ladies could really accomplish the 160 miles' ride in three and a half days, his ponies should not be found lacking, but he had never yet known any lady do it under five, and he did not think we knew what rough riding lay before us. Miss T—— and myself, not daunted by the difficulties presented, made up our minds, if possible, to compass the ride, see the 'Geysers,' and be back at Reykjavik in time to catch the steamer, for we had no mind to be left in Iceland another fortnight; so we laughingly told Zoega we would show him what English ladies could do in the way of riding, and he might expect to see us back on the appointed day.
Up we all mounted, to the amusement of the crowd, which had collected round the cavalcade. The words, 'Are you ready?' were quickly answered by 'Yes;' but when one of the bye-standers saw we ladies were furnished only with men's saddles, there was quite a commotion. 'The ladies will never be able to ride all that way in that fashion; only native women can ride so, not[p. 100] real ladies,' and so terrible did they make out the prospect of the road, that we were persuaded to take two wretchedly uncomfortable side-saddles with us as far as Thingvalla, which we never used, far preferring our own arrangement.
That start from Reykjavik was a memorable one. It was a glorious morning, the outcome of a splendid sunset the previous night, and the air so genial and warm that for the first time since we set foot on the Island we dispensed with our furs.
A picturesque party we made as we rode on our way towards Thingvalla, a stretch of seven hours' hard riding, one of the guides and Vaughan driving before them the thirteen loose ponies. These were not attached to each other, but followed the leader, and went very well, only now and then one or two strayed from the path, when down jumped the guide, ran after them, and with a curious shriek brought them back in line. Our guides were most dexterous riders, and proved also most kind and attentive. Their names were Signithur Sigurthsen and Jon Eriksen. We had been cautioned that if treated with hauteur the guides often became sullen, whilst kindness ensured their devotion and courtesy, and as we never tried the former tone, we were capital friends with them.
The guide-books had led us to believe that after we had left Reykjavik a mile or so we should find no roads whatever. This is strictly[p. 101] true, as there are no made roads, but here and there we came across long stretches of level land and peat, where we could get really a good gallop, whilst on the other hand there were many parts of our route where no beast could go faster than a walk, and others which only a mule or an Icelandic pony could compass.
A road or bridle path is being constructed between Akureyri and Reykjavik, and some 20 miles is already roughly made, although it will probably take years to complete.
Herr Zoega had certainly been as good as his word, and supplied us with excellent ponies, some of which excelled in trotting, some in cantering, and others in pacing, but the latter motion was very trying, and I always objected to mounting those which had been trained to pace.
The Icelandic fashion of making the pony go fast is to kick its side incessantly with the legs, which a native does for hours together, and so accustomed is the pony to this 'clapping,' that he slackens his pace as soon as it ceases.