The cavern runs straight as if laid out with a theodolite and the roof is arched with plinths and the walls are covered in places with patches of lava stalactites, which spread their nets of lace-like lava in strange fantastic forms. The dome is from forty to sixty feet high and the cavern is about thirty feet in width. As we proceeded we found more and more the deficiency of our candles in giving sufficient light for us to take advantage of the way, if indeed there is any advantage of one place over another.
After a weary climb over the slippery rocks we came to the reaches of ice, the accumulations of water that seep through the vault. Here the roof is hung with ice stalactites that often extend from the dome to the floor and present a wonderful sight, for the light of the candles, which refused to reflect from the blackened walls, glitters and plays on the ice in a beautiful manner. Great stalagmites of ice stand out of the murky gloom like spectres of the departed outlaws who haunted these underground chambers in the ancient day of Iceland’s lawlessness. We fastened the candles in the top of these huge white candlesticks and made a flashlight of the ice wall before us, which had brought us to an abrupt stop and where the journeys of most of the tourists end. The vapor hung heavily in the freezing air and the smoke from the candle flame, in the absolute quiet of the air, hung suspended or twined in long, curling bands of moisture laden smoke, which assumed fantastic forms, reminding us of the wraiths that disturb the midnight slumbers of guilty dreamers in the castle-haunted dungeons of mediaeval days.
At first it seemed impossible for us to scale the ice wall with any means at our disposal but by dint of much exertion it was accomplished. We knew that Povelsen in his visit and later Henderson, had deposited coins in the cairns which Povelsen had built at the far end of this cave. We had brought with us two Lincoln cents of the date of 1910 for the express purpose of placing them in the cairn. Ólafur ascended on my shoulders and gripping the lava stalactites on the wall managed to ascend. With his feet engaged in the crevices of the wall, he reached down and drew up Mrs. Russell, who stood on my shoulders. The two then formed a living chain by which I climbed to the top of the ice. Under the ice wall there was some water but the passage was too long and the ice columns too near together for a passage in this direction. Once on the top the way became easier. The ice sloped in a gentle declivity to the floor of the tunnel and when we left it we found a continuation of the heavy blocks of stone for some distance. This was followed by finer material and eventually by sand which made the walking much better. At the end of an hour of hard labor we arrived at the end of the tunnel and found the ancient cairn. We removed the capstone and with the wax of our candles cemented the two Lincoln cents, left our cards, replaced the capstone and retraced our weary way.
The return was as arduous as the inward journey, for we had slipped over the icy rocks and into the holes so often that our woolen gloves were cut to threads and our boots still show the scars of those ignominious slides. Nowhere else in Iceland have I ever felt the least fear of danger, neither in fording the glacial rivers, in the terrible deserts, on the ice mountains, nor in sleeping in the crater of Askja, Bowl, with ice beside my tent and columns of steam and sulfur gases rising from the solfatara in front, but, in this cave the thought was ever present with me,—“those blocks of stone, some of them weighing a ton, each has fallen from that lofty dome, when will the next one fall?” The experience was worth all the labor for we had been in the actual home of the outlaws, had worked our way to the far end of the longest and grandest lava tunnel known, we had seen the beautiful ice barrier, beautiful as the altar screen in the great cathedrals of Europe and we had left positive proof of our labor in the ancient cairn. No one should omit this visit if he is near this portion of Iceland. When he has issued from the darkness into the sunlight, if he desires more of the same experience he will find a similar tunnel not far from Surtshellir, which was discovered in 1909.
That night we reached Kalmungstúnga, a prosperous farm within the shadows of Geitlands Jökull, Goat-Land, and Ök Jökull, Yoke. This is a new farm house with spacious and airy rooms and well furnished. The farmer is obliging though he has a reputation of overcharging his guests. After a well cooked dinner we repaired to rest, not having slept more than three hours out of the last forty-eight. A little after midnight I was aroused by Mrs. Russell, who was saying:—
“There is some one in our room.”
After a little I awoke sufficiently to see a man standing at the foot of the bed occupied by Mrs. Russell. I asked,—
“Who is there and what is wanted?”
“It is Ólafur. The Governor of Iceland with his daughter has arrived and he wishes a bed,” replied the guide.
“Well, let him have one if he can find it. We are too tired to give up these.”