We next returned to Reykjahlíð and supped with the bóndi Pètur Jónsson, his son-in-law, Thorlákur, and Paul. The former seemed a little aggrieved at the sulphur business generally, and from what I could gather, it had from time immemorial been a sore point as to whether the sulphur mines belonged to his family or to the Danish Government. There could not be the slightest doubt about the matter, but I could scarcely wonder at the existence of such a feeling; for a family who had owned the neighbouring country for 600 years might naturally think the intervening mountains were their own fee simple. This feeling quite accounts for any brusquerie the Sulphur Prospecting Expedition may have met with. I can only bear testimony, that during my stay at Reykjahlíð I received the kindest attention, that I had the best of everything there was in the place, and that the charges were moderate. Old Pètur informed me that he was building a stone church in place of the old turf and wooden structure, which required repair. He had plenty of stone, but his chief difficulty was the want of lime; in fact, he had been obliged to import all he had hitherto used from Denmark, which of course was very expensive to him; so I advised him to try and burn the gypsum from the solfataras, and instructed him how to set about it, which piece of information seemed to rejoice his heart exceedingly.
The old church in question is the veritable building, with some additions and improvements, concerning the escape of which from destruction during the eruption of some craters to the S.W. of Krafla, in 1720, so much has been said and written. Suffice it to say, that the lava could not have reached the church unless it had previously filled up the Lake of Mývatn. My day’s work ended with making preparations for a visit to Dettifoss.
The morrow brought very unsatisfactory weather; it had snowed heavily in the night, and the mountains and ground were white, a piercing north-west wind was blowing, and it seemed as if we had suddenly jumped into mid-winter; however, by nine o’clock we were on horseback. As we journeyed on we were much amused and surprised to see hay-making going on in the middle of a snow storm; but still it was the fact that the good people of Reykjahlíð were busily engaged in the tún (home field) mowing grass, and piling that which had been cut a day or so previously into cocks, that it might receive as little injury as possible. Leaving Reykjahlíð behind, we crossed the rugged lava at the west base of the Námufjall, and ascended the winding path of the Námu-skarð which divides the Námufjall from the Dalfjall, and turning to the north pursued our way by the side of an ancient lava stream, covered with verdure, and thence bending sharply to the north-east we reached the little bothy of Skarðsel, a poor dilapidated hut of turf and lava blocks, which sheltered some of the servants from Reykjahlíð, who during the summer months tend the sheep in the neighbouring grass land. Here we took a good draught of milk, and leaving behind us a large piece of Mr. Cole’s salmon, some hard tack, chocolate and schnapps, to refresh us upon our return, we crossed the Sandbalnafjöll by means of a sandy pass, and reached the plain of the Mývatns Örœfí amid a blinding storm. Our route lay again over lava, covered with sand, which I was informed had been ejected by Krafla. On, on, N.N.E., the storm utterly defying our tattered mackintoshes. A little herbage had begun to make its appearance, and presently we were galloping over excellent sheep pastures, varied occasionally by barren stretches of sand and pebbles. Several times, however, we were stopped by fissures which had been very recently formed in the plain, probably by the volcanic action of the previous spring, but very insignificant in comparison with those we had previously met with in the Mývatns Örœfí. At last, after about six hours’ riding, we sighted the column of spray arising from the Dettifoss, and soon after we descended into what appeared to have been the bed of a large river, most likely an ancient bed of the Jökulsá, which may have been diverted to its present channel by an earthquake; while upon ascending its eastern bank, the dull roar of the Dettifoss reached us. Climbing over crags of basalt we rode to the edge of the river, where we dismounted upon a patch of excellent grass, and thence obtained a good view of the cataract, which is very imposing. The Jökulsá is here about 250 yards across, and roars along in a series of rapids, till its broken and foaming waters pour down a perpendicular wall of basalt at least 200 feet in height, into a chasm some hundred yards wide, seething and boiling in pent-up wrath, forming a “riotous confluence of water-courses, blanching and bellowing in the hollow of it,” until, released from this confinement, it softens, a few hundred yards further down, into a broad swift-flowing stream of milky water. The Dettifoss is by far the largest waterfall in Iceland, and, I believe, in Europe, being about the size of the Canadian Niagara Fall. The only view obtainable, however, is not calculated to impress the beholder with an adequate idea of its height, for one has to look down upon it, which is always a disadvantage: still, although the Dettifoss lacks the beauty of Niagara, it does not convey the impression of the thinness of the body of water, as does the Transatlantic cataract; for the grace and beauty of the latter are greatly enhanced by its surroundings of richly-wooded heights and the clearness of the water. Although Dettifoss is much smaller than the Falls of Niagara in their entirety, nevertheless, it is a grand and terrible spectacle, and is all the more striking on account of the diablerie of the wild scenery by which it is environed. There is an upper cascade, but of no great height, and it is scarcely worth naming beside Dettifoss; for one waterfall is so much like another, that, after having seen several of the largest, one rather tires of the similarity, unless there be some distinguishing peculiarity to enliven the interest.
When satiated with admiring the scenery at this part, we took a light meal, and commenced our return journey amid pouring rain. It was past midnight before we reached the west side of Mývatns Örœfí; and as the mist had somewhat lifted from the hills, I turned my horse’s head towards Krafla. Upon reaching the height of a few hundred feet the mist again beat down upon us; besides which the snow lay so thick in many places that it became very dangerous for the horses in the half-light and fog. We therefore abandoned Krafla for the moment, and taking the first gill which ran in a southerly direction, we descended to the little hut where we had left our salmon and reserve supply of provisions. The good folks were in bed, but one of the women immediately got up to assist us, and the other produced, first the bottle of schnapps, and then, one by one, the biscuits and the chocolate, from what appeared to be the only cupboard in the place, viz., from underneath the bedclothes. As the bed had three occupants, I was in terror lest my salmon had been stored in the same undesirable repository, but fortunately it had been put up outside. The biscuits and chocolate might have been none the worse for their safe storage, but they were unpleasantly warm, and I preferred to wait for the salmon, which with some good coffee, sheep’s milk, and schnapps, was not to be despised by a hungry traveller who had been exposed to the storm for nearly a score of hours.
We reached Reykjahlíð at five A.M., and I turned in for a short sleep, till breakfast at seven o’clock, and then we made our start for Krafla. Over the Námufjall again, by the Námu-skarð, a gill of solfataras, we passed the parti-coloured heaps, slopes, and accumulations, which reminded me of the refuse from some huge dye-works, and turned to the north along the east base of the Dalfjall, skirting a lava stream upon our right hand. Hereabout the aspect was much improved by (for Iceland) a luxuriant overgrowth of dwarf birch and salix. Crossing hence to the base of Sandbalnafjöll, we drew up for a minute at the little hut of Skarðsel for a draught of sheep’s milk. Pursuing our way over a lava field covered with alluvium, we hastened on towards Krafla. We hobbled our horses at the base of the high ground between Krafla and Leirhnúkur, and forthwith commenced the ascent, passing several solfataras of no great importance, their chief characteristic being the production of abominable smells. Soon after we reached comparatively level ground, which extended for some distance at the S.S.W. base of Krafla proper. Cheered by the sight of our horses making tracks for home, in spite of their hobbles, we now continued along the south-west margin of a crater-lake, which probably was more than two miles in circumference, its length equalling about twice its breadth, being surrounded by steep slopes of clay, disintegrated rock and fragmentary débris. There was a similar crater further to the N.N.W., of more circular form. Following along a neck of land between the two, we commenced the ascent of Krafla proper, which is a sub-conical mass of agglomerate, pierced to the summit and in many other places with intruded lava. The sides we found to be everywhere strewed with all kinds of volcanic débris, amongst which were numerous trachitic masses, some of which contained atoms of iron pyrites, and although these occurred very frequently in loose fragments and masses, I was unable to find any in situ. Half-an-hour’s hard climbing next brought us to the summit, which my aneroid shewed to be scarcely 3000 feet above Reykjahlíð, or a little under 4000 feet above sea level. On looking around we found upon the high ground to the west several pools of clear water, probably small crater lakes, as doubtless were the two depressions immediately beneath us to the south-west. My guide informed me that it was from the most northern of these that the last eruption of Krafla proceeded, and that the water in it used to be hot; he also told me a fact which was afterwards corroborated by his father, that Krafla had never been known to erupt lava, having cast out only ashes, pumice, sand and water; indeed, the aspect of these pit craters would lead one so to imagine it. I was also much surprised at not finding any obsidian, for I had heard so much of the obsidian of Krafla; but on further inquiry I ascertained that it is only found on the portion of the mountain known as the Hrafntinnuhryggr (the obsidian back), and there it only occurs in fragments—indeed, the only obsidian I have met with in situ in Iceland is at Mount Paul, in the middle of the Vatna Jökull.
The summit of Krafla commands a most extensive view. Looking south-west, over the hills beneath, with their dirty splotches of whitish yellow sulphur, the country looked wintry indeed after the snow storm of the previous day, while the eye as it wandered southward caught a fine view-range over the Hliðarfjall and Dalfjall, as well as over the straggling lake of Mývatn, where the scenery widened out over the Mývatnsveit towards the snow-capped Seljalandsfjall, standing out like an island in the commencement of the dark stony sea of the Ódáðahraun. In another direction, between the snow-covered hills upon the east side of the Skjálfandifljót and the smoking Dyngjufjöll, the view extended over the pitiless waste of the Ódáðahraun to the snowy mound of Skjaldbreið, while the broad white expanse of the Vatna seemed to join the sky, till, almost wearied with the strain upon the visual power, it seemed quite a relief to turn to the nearer and happier-looking spots of green which the volcano and the glaciers have spared to Iceland.
Further to the east are the Bláfjall, where the Fremri-Námur deposits of sulphur are situated, and the fire-scorched hills of Trölladýngjur, whose position on the map Captain Burton has corrected, and the lordly Herðubreið, whose snowy cap looked all the purer for the recent snow storm. To the east and north-east stretched the plain of the Mývatns Örœfí, with its black patch of new lava enshrouded in a dim mist. Bearing N.N.E. was a tall column, apparently of steam, upon which the sun was shining; it was the spray from the Dettifoss, varying in shape as the wind acted on it, and reflecting rainbow colours in the sunlight. To the north the prospect was between the Hágaunguhnúkur (high-going hills) and Jónstindr, over a level country to the hills of Theistareykjafjall, where a third large deposit of sulphur occurs. It was seven P.M. before we returned to Reykjahlíð, and in a few hours we bade adieu to old Pètur and started along the eastern side of Lake Mývatn, accompanied by Paul and Arngrimur, for the little lake of Grœnavatn. The road was a bad one, over a continuation of lava streams which had flowed into the Lake of Mývatn, forming the curious little islands that spotted its sedgy waters. We put to flight several of the duck tribe, which were enjoying themselves after the manner of ducks upon the margin of the lake, and reached Grœnavatn at three A.M.; this was very slow work, but the nature of the ground prevented our travelling at anything beyond a walking pace for the greater part of the way. One of the principal features of this ride was the numerous gates which had to be opened and shut; these marked the termination of the various holdings, and also prevented the sheep belonging to the different homesteads upon the side of the lake from straying; for very often, where the gates were situated, the lava prevented the passage even of sheep by any other way.
The occupants of the farm at Grœnavatn may be described as “a happy family.” The two sons of Pètur of Reykjahlíð, Jón and Arngrimur, had married the two sisters of my previous guide, Thorlákur, and he, by way of returning the compliment, had married one of their sisters. They were all living under the same roof with Thorlákur’s father, and together managed their thriving homestead.
About midday we started for the sulphur mines of Fremri-Námur, on the east and west slopes of the Bláfjall and Hvannfell. Proceeding in a S.S.E. direction we crossed the lava which occupies the entire eastern side of the valley of Mývatn, and began to ascend the hills at the base of the Bláfjall. We here inspected two small but perfectly-formed craters, both of which had discharged lava streams into the valley beneath. A little further up the hill to the north of the Bláfjall we came upon the tracks of the Sulphur Exploring Expedition, under the conduct of Capt. Burton, who had passed that way a few days previously. From this point the hills commanded a striking view of Mývatn, Krafla, and the neighbouring mountains, with a glimpse to the south-west of Arnarfells Jökull in the far distance. This we found was a difficult route for the horses, and it did not improve as we reached the lava which had flowed from the Fremri-Námur at the time of its latest eruption. This lava stream had flowed into a valley between the Bláfjall and the Hvannfell, destroying all herbage except a little “island of green,” which it almost encircled; this small patch of verdure is called Heilag (holy valley). Here, choosing a spot where there was the most grass, we rested and lunched. The grass, however, was not plentiful, the greater part being what is called kinder-grass (sheep’s grass), or a mixture of straggling birch and salix intermixed with coarse grass and herbage. The sheep eat this with avidity, but horses must be very hungry before they will feed upon it. As we were about to depart a heavy snow storm burst upon us. My guide had no waterproof, but I had a large oilskin that Mr. Kent, one of the sulphur explorers, had given to Paul; we therefore took shelter under the lee of a crag in the ancient lava stream underlying the grass-land, and improvised a roof with the oilskin and our whips. We were imprisoned for more than an hour; so violent was the storm that it was impossible to see many yards around us. Eventually it cleared up; we had almost succeeded in keeping ourselves dry, and I think our drenched and shivering horses were only too glad to resume their journey.