Evening found us at Kálfafellstaðr, a place pleasantly situated beneath the outlying hills of the Vatna Jökull. These hills are principally composed of amygdaloidal basalt, abounding in zeolites; chalcedonies are especially plentiful, and I dare say it might pay to look for the precious opal. This eastern corner of Iceland appears to be particularly rich in zeolites; I noticed the same when I was at Berufjörðr.
We stayed for the night with another relative of Paul—he seemed to have kindred nearly all over the island, and a very superior race they appear to be. This relation was the widow of the former priest of Kálfafellstaðr. Here we bought another horse, and hired the widow’s son, a lad about seventeen; for we required a man and a lad to drive our horses round to the north of the island while we crossed the Vatna Jökull. The widow and her daughter accompanied us a short distance upon our return journey, and, after two days’ riding, we were again at Núpstað.
Preparations for our journey across the Vatna now commenced in earnest. The sleighs and the snow-shoes had been made according to our instructions. All was there except the men and the butter; enough of the latter, however, turned up in the morning to enable us to make the pemmican, which I at once set myself to work to superintend.
A fire was lighted and a cauldron of water soon heated, and the beef boiled; then came the work of cutting up an entire ox into pieces the size of ordinary wine-corks. Paul senior, and I commenced operations by first taking out the bones; and, by dint of sharp knives, and a few hours’ hard work, we prepared about seventy-eight pounds of meat. Twenty pounds of salt butter and half-a-pound of salt were then melted in the cauldron, and the meat carefully mixed with it. After a short time it was ready to be packed in the skin bags in which it was to be carried.
The bags were placed in troughs of water during the operation of filling, to prevent leakage at the seams, and when they were filled they were tied up and laid in a stream close by, where stones were piled upon them to press down the meat. When they were sufficiently pressed, and the contents had become cold (which took about twenty hours), they were each placed in ordinary sacks for more easy carriage; for greasy skin-bags full of meat are rather slippery things to carry, and somewhat nasty things to handle.
By June 25th all my preparations were made, and my men arrived; Paul Paulsen and a cousin of his from Skaptarfellssysla; Helgi, from the farm of Króki; Finnur, from Myrdalssysla; and Eyólfur, from Hörgsdalr: these were to accompany me across the Vatna Jökull. In addition were Bjarni, who was with me last year; the farmer from Rauðberg, who carried the post between Prestbakki and Berufjörðr—a deaf and dumb man, and a man named Vigfúss; these four were to return when we reached the mountain which I last year named “Mount Paul,” about a third of the way across the Jökull. I had also arranged with Paul’s father and little Arni, whom I had hired at Kálfafellstaðr, to take our horses from Núpstað round the east side of the Vatna into the north of the island.
Our equipment, which was to be drawn upon hand-sleighs, consisted of a low tent, four feet high; a large sleeping-bag, which would accommodate six of us—this was eight feet long, and five feet wide—one side being made of a layer of cork and felt, covered with mackintosh, and the other of a stout blanket also covered with waterproof. This bag was open at both ends, so that three could sleep with their heads one way and three with their heads the other. Both these openings were covered by a hood, which proved a great protection to our heads while sleeping, and prevented the snow from getting into the bag. This gave us sleeping accommodation for six persons, with a weight of only sixty pounds. This bed, however, had its disadvantages; for instance, if any one was taken with cramp, or dreamt of engaging in any particularly active exercise, its limited dimensions became painfully apparent; moreover, it is almost impossible to keep the inside of the bag perfectly dry, owing to the exhalation from our bodies. I have paid great attention to this matter, but have found that for a prolonged sojourn amidst wet snow, where weight is a subject of paramount importance, it is the best sleeping arrangement that can be contrived.
Our provisions consisted of 100 lbs. of pemmican in skin bags, 50 lbs. of butter, 100 lbs. of skonrok, or Danish ship-biscuits, 15 lbs. of dried fish, 15 lbs. of dried mutton, 15 lbs. of gravy soup, 2 tins of “soupe Julienne,” in packets; 6 tins of chocolate and milk, 2 lbs. of cocoa, and 4 lbs. of sugar; 2 gallons of proof whiskey, 1 gallon of spirit for burning, 5 lbs. of tobacco, and 3 tins of Peek and Frean’s meat biscuits. I had a small Russian furnace, which is an excellent lamp for heating water or melting snow. These articles, with a good supply of warm clothing, waterproofs, and mocassins (for it is impossible to wear leather boots in the snow), and the necessary instruments and implements, completed our outfit.
All things were now ready, and the day had at length arrived when we were to assail the Vatna again. We rose betimes, but it was midday before we were fairly on our way. I took leave of the bóndi Ayólver, who would not charge me anything for my own board and for the keep of my own horses. He was too unwell to accompany us to the Vatna, and seemed quite upset at saying good-bye, as he said he felt sure it would be for the last time, whether we got across the Jökull or not. I cheered him up, and said, I hoped some day or another to come to Núpstað again; and so we started on horseback, and, after crossing the river Diúpá, we commenced the ascent of Kálfafellsfjall, which hill lay between us and the Vatna.
The journey was a very trying one to the horses; it is so at the best of times, but now the melting snow still lay thickly, and in places had converted the unstable soil into quicksands. In some parts it was necessary to cross ravines full of snow, which had melted underneath, leaving the bottom of the ravine roofed. The horses fought very shy of these snow-roofed valleys, and when we came to any hole which had been formed by the subsidence of a portion of the snow into the valley beneath, it was with difficulty we could get them along, as the noise of the stream, which invariably ran below, made them rather fractious. But the snow having regelated into an indurated compact mass, was often some yards in thickness, so I do not think there was any real danger of sinking through it. These preliminary difficulties were soon disposed of, and 6 P.M. found us at that point where the rocks terminate and the eternal snows of the Vatna commence.