Kitabı oku: «A Girl's Ride in Iceland», sayfa 8

We had several visitors in the early morning, who thrust under our tent such articles as jewellery, saddle-cloths, carved spoons, etc., for sale. We bargained for some of these, and ultimately obtained them. The prices at first asked were absurdly high, but these simple-minded Icelanders have an idea that our nation's liberality is unbounded.

There is really little good old jewellery left in the Island, in consequence of the extreme poverty of the natives, who have sold to travellers the greater portion of that which they possessed.

How to dress in our three feet tent, was a problem which for some time our minds failed to solve, and still more, how and where to wash, until the gentlemen informed us that as they were going to the springs to bathe, their tent was at our disposal for as long as we wished. Here we found that their forethought had provided a large tub from the farm, which they had filled with warm water, so, after all, we had a luxurious bath.

When our only looking-glass was passed round, we each in turn exclaimed, 'How fearfully burnt I am!' and so indeed we were. Our yachting caps and deerstalkers had been shade enough on board ship, but not for a four days' ride across country in wind and a dust storm.

We had arrived at our journey's end, had seen the 'Stroker' at any rate play, and now if we wished to catch our steamer at Reykjavik, we had no time to lose in preparing for our return journey, so after breakfast, while our guides collected our steeds, packed the tents, etc., we started for a final look at the Geysers and the hot springs, which so abound in this neighbourhood. There are, I believe, no less than fifty within the circuit of half a mile. These springs lie at the base of a mountain of no great height, the tract in which these thermal waters is found being about 700 yards in length and 300 in width.

The Great Geyser lies to the north of this plain, its basin, 60 feet in diameter, is at the summit of a mound 20 feet in height, composed of silica, a mineral that the Geyser water holds in solution, and which from the constant overflowing of the water, deposits layers of beautiful enamel, which at the top is too hard to detach, although round the base soft and crumbly. The basin is nearly circular, and is generally, except after an eruption, full to the brim, and always steaming, the water at the bottom being about 228° Fahr.

The tube in the centre, from which the water spouts is about 10 feet across, and I read somewhere that on measuring down about 70 feet, the tube took a sudden turn which prevented further soundings. The water is ejected at a heat of 180° or 190° Fahr., and rises over 100 feet into the air.

These Geysers are nearly 400 feet above sea level.

The formation of the 'Stroker' differs from that of the Great Geyser in not having any basin round its well, the latter being in shape like a rough test-tube, about 8 feet in diameter and 36 feet deep, with two pipe-mouths. After the eruption witnessed by 'Burton,' he noticed that 'the level of the water in the tube was at a depth of 25 feet, where might be seen, partly submerged, the mouths of two pipes entering at different angles, close together on the side nearest the Great Geyser. From these pipes steam belched forth at intervals with considerable force, churning the water in the well round rapidly.'

It is strange that the eruptions of the 'Stroker' do not affect the water in the well of the Great Geyser, though it is not 100 yards off, while on the other hand, when the Geyser is in eruption, the water of the 'Stroker' subsides.

It really was very tantalising to have come so far, and be within a few hours' distance of Hecla, and yet have to return without having visited it. Besides, from what we gathered, we could well have exhausted another week in expeditions in the neighbourhood, but snow-capped Hecla, the ice-clad heights of the Jöklar, and the Red Crater, with innumerable other interesting excursions of Icelandic note, had to be left for a future visit, if ever we should make it, to the Island.

The name of Hecla means a mantle: its last eruption occurred in 1845. Where is Hecla? Who has not been asked that question at school? and little did I think, when learning geography, that I should ever see it, even at a distance. Alas! time would not allow us a nearer acquaintance. Visiting it meant either seventeen days round the Island in a Danish boat, or waiting six weeks for the Camoens, circumstances over which we had no control made both impossible, and we had reluctantly to give up the excursion. While these volcanoes and their adjuncts must ever remain, from their uncertain eruptions, a cause of terror to the inhabitants – boiling and bubbling for years, and then suddenly bursting forth, to the entire destruction of all around – they have, we know also, a beneficial effect in the world's domestic economy. What, for instance, would happen to Britain were it not for the Gulf Stream? It would be as cold as Labrador. The streams in the Gulf of Mexico are fed from equatorial currents and boiling springs, and rush on to the North Atlantic 25° or 30° warmer than the sea through which it passes, warming the air of Western Europe.

Again, hot springs (caused by subterranean fires), which, from their curative celebrity, attract visitors and invalids, mean business, and business means money to the inhabitants of the locality.

Taking our last farewell of these seething pools, which bubbled and boiled around us, I could not help wondering what kind of commotion could be going on beneath the earth's surface. A power that could thus eject 100 feet of boiling water into the air, and not burst asunder the surrounding ground, was indeed a marvellous phenomenon. The Iceland Geysers, which were the first discovered, as well as those of New Zealand (so soon to be destroyed), and those of the Yellowstone Park, must ever be of enormous interest to the traveller and geologist, and with regret we turned our backs upon them, having reached the turning-point of our journey and the limit of our time. Time waits on no man, so we tore ourselves away, feeling, however, we had seen in the Iceland Geysers one of the greatest marvels of Nature.

Various explanations of Geysers have been attempted by scientific men, and as some of my readers may take sufficient interest in these wonderful phenomena to wish to know something regarding the causes which originate them, I have got my father to write a short chapter on what he saw and thought of the great Geysers in the volcanic district of the Yellowstone Park, which I have appended at the end of my narrative.

CHAPTER XI.
FARM HOUSE

We traversed nearly the same road on our return journey from the Geysers as we had taken en route, our first halt being made at the farm near which we had lunched the previous day, situated close to the winding river we had crossed so often. In our up journey, we had had no time to spare, so could not visit the farm house and buildings. Indeed the Icelanders are very chary of exhibiting their domestic arrangements and dwellings, hence it is difficult at all times to visit their homes. However, I was determined to see over a farm house before leaving the Island, so wandered around until we found an old woman. By shaking hands with her, and praising up her skyr, we made her understand by signs that we wished to see the house and byre. These were built of peat and rubble, with grass roofs, on one of which a cow was actually grazing at the time. Outside, drying in the sun, were pieces of peat in size about two feet by three, and about two inches thick; they were doubled, tent-fashion, to enable the air to pass through, and were standing in a row along a turf wall. On inquiring their use, we learnt they were intended as a species of saddle-cloth for the pack ponies, to protect the vertebrae. The peat being placed on the animal's back, the loads are attached on either side by a rope made of the mane and tail hair of the ponies, plaited neatly in three, either black and white or brown and white, and mixed with a little flax, they really form quite a pretty adornment to the trappings; the loops through which the ropes pass are of carved sheep's horns, knotted into most fantastic shapes.

We first visited the dairy, composed of peat and rubble as usual. Inside, placed on a shelf, were large basins of milk and cream, as in England. Sheep and cows' milk were side by side, for this farmer was a wealthy man, and the happy possessor of a few cattle. He had butter too, waiting to be sent to Reykjavik, which we tasted and found very good, and an old-fashioned churn, some three feet high, like a chimney-pot with a rod down the middle, terminating in a piece of flat wood. Of this churn the old lady seemed very proud, and she was quite delighted when I lifted the rod up and down, to find I knew how to use it. I believe that won her heart.

Leaving the dairy, the old woman took my hand and dragged me along a perfectly dark passage, Miss T. following. This passage was paved with stones, and had stone walls on either side. Half stifled with peat smoke, we arrived, puffing and panting, in the kitchen. Here in a corner was the big peat fire which filled the whole dwelling with its exhalations. All around was perfect blackness, until our eyes got accustomed to the dim hazy light, when we espied a woman in a corner making cakes, formed of two layers of meal buttered and placed at the bottom of a huge cauldron, such as is used by the Irish peasantry for boiling potatoes. These cakes served hot are very palatable.

There was no chimney; the smoke merely escaped the best way it could through a small hole, around which some hams were being smoked. They must have been mutton hams, for there are no pigs from which to get others; and mutton hams properly smoked are very good too.

We were next conducted through another long dark passage, down which we stumbled, bumping our heads against the side walls, there being no entrance of light whatever, save what came through the doorway from the reflection of the embers of the peat fire. So dark was the passage, we almost fancied we were going through a coal mine. After a time we reached a second room, devoted to the storing of packets of dried fish and huge barrels of skyr; but the want of ventilation and light in this quaint Icelandic larder was sadly felt.

Where did the family sleep? we asked ourselves, after visiting another such apartment. Finally, by sundry gesticulations, we succeeded in making our old friend understand our question, when off she led us to the family bedroom. Imagine a long passage room with a small window at either end, containing seven wooden beds, placed so that five joined head and foot along one wall, while the other two were on either side of the door. Here the whole family disposed of themselves at night.

In one of the beds lay a poor sick child. From her wasted appearance one might suppose she was in a consumption, but this fatal disease is unknown in Iceland.

In another bed lay a poor old woman, who as I addressed her grinned at me so horribly, in the dim-light, that she had the appearance of an awful old witch, and afforded a great contrast to the fragile child in the adjoining bed. Each bed was covered by an old-fashioned patch-work quilt.

Stowed away among the low rafters of the roof I noticed a spinning-wheel and paraffin lamp, and some clothes packed in little tight bundles; much as I should have liked to stop and take in a few more details, my nasal organs could stand no more, and, feeling somewhat faint, I had, nolens volens, to make a rush for the door. Much to my regret, I did not dare venture inside again to further inspect this curious bedchamber.

Our old lady bade us a most affectionate farewell, returning several times to shake us warmly by the hand, but distinctly refusing our proffered krone.

About half way between the Geysers and Thingvalla we recrossed the famous Bruara Fall. From bank to bank it is probably 200 feet, but in fine weather a crossing can be made by a little bridge which spans some 6 feet of babbling, seething water at the narrowest part of the rocks, where the river forms two cascades. The bridge is old and rickety, and as the water is of considerable depth and tremendous volume, the bridge is hardly a desirable halting-place for any length of time, although the view from its planks is very fascinating.

We passed that night once more in the parsonage at Thingvalla, but much more comfortably than before, as we had engaged all the rooms beforehand, and also ordered a good fish dinner to be ready for us on our arrival.

As to meat, we did not expect to get it; beef is hardly ever eaten by the Icelanders, being too expensive to procure. The native sheep are usually killed towards the end of September, and the meat salted or smoked for winter consumption. Formerly horse-flesh was much eaten in the Island, but is not so now. This struck us as strange in a place where such a scarcity of food exists, and where ponies abound. Having tasted it myself while in Germany, I know it is by no means to be despised.

The principal vegetables to be had in Iceland are turnips and potatoes, and of these there is only a limited supply; so that really fish remains the one staple diet of the Island, – on the coast this is eaten fresh, but it is dried before being packed and sent into the interior – cod, salmon, haddock, trout, halibut, herrings, flounders, and sometimes sharks.

The next morning, as soon as we had breakfasted, we mounted our ponies with the regretful feeling the day's ride would be our last in Iceland. We had been unfortunate in missing the clergyman at Thingvalla both going and returning: we regretted it the more as we heard that he was a very clever man and a good English scholar. Our good-natured hostess, however, had done her best to supply his place, and we bade her a hearty farewell, with much shaking of hands. Off we went at a gallop, traversing the same route, fording the same rivers as on our up journey, arriving safely at Reykjavik on the fourth day from that on which we had left it, having compassed the 160 miles in three and a half days with comparatively little fatigue, which I attribute to our mode of riding being so much easier a movement than sitting sideways with a half twisted body. I can only repeat what I before said, that we should never have accomplished this long and fatiguing ride so easily, and in such a short time, either in a chair or on a side saddle; so if any lady should follow our example, and go to Iceland, let her be prepared to defy Mrs Grundy, and ride as a man.

We had certainly every reason to be contented with the result of our trip to the Geysers. The weather had been favourable, – very hot sometimes in the middle of the day, but cold at night; but this was rather refreshing than otherwise, and the scenery had well repaid our toil and trouble. The Icelandic landscapes do not lack colour, as has been asserted by some travellers; whilst the clearness of the atmosphere is wonderful, and the shades of blue, purple, carmine, and yellow in the sky melting into one another produce most lovely effects.

Unquestionably the landscape lacks trees and verdure, and one missed the gorgeous autumn colouring of our English woods, for there is no foliage, only low scrub jungle. It seems very doubtful if Iceland was ever wooded, as is supposed by some persons, as no trees of any size have as yet been discovered in the peat beds, a very conclusive evidence to the contrary.

Iceland is so sparsely populated that one often rides miles without encountering a human being. Even in the little town of Sauderkrok there is not much life in the streets; for instance, A. L. T. dropped his pipe as we rode out of the town, and on our return, eight hours later, we found it in the centre of a small street, exactly where he had dropped it. Now, as a pipe is a coveted luxury to an Icelander, it is presumable that no one could have passed along that street in our absence.

It was just 3 p. m. when we entered Reykjavik, having accomplished our last day's ride from Thingvalla in six and a half hours. The Camoens was still safely at anchor in the harbour, and we rejoiced at having returned without a single contretemps.

On our way through Reykjavik to the ship Mr Gordon ordered dinner at the hotel to be ready by 7 o'clock, and we looked forward to this repast with much pleasure after our tinned meat and biscuit diet of the last few days.

Before returning on board to change our riding dresses, we went in search of the washing. In a queer little wooden house, at the back of the town, we found the washerman, who smiled and nodded, and asked 3s. for what would have cost 30s. in England, handing us an enormous linen bag, in which the things were packed. This was consigned to A. L. T., who carried it in both arms through the town, and ultimately on board, where it landed quite dry; and to our surprise we found our linen had been most beautifully washed and got up, quite worthy of a first-class laundry.

The dinner was excellent, everything being very hot, and served in Danish style. As is the universal custom among the better class, the hostess waited on us herself, and told us she had spun her own dress and the sitting-room carpet the winter before, and always wove her own linen. This was our last evening ashore, as we were to heave anchor at midnight on Tuesday, 17th August, and in four and a half days we were, if all went well, to find ourselves back in Scotland. Alas! these expectations were not realised, as few human aspirations are!

During our four days' absence to the Geysers, the captain and crew had been engaged in shipping no less than 617 ponies, which additional cargo caused two days' delay. Poor little beasts, when we arrived on board we found they had all been so tightly stowed away as not to be able to lie down. Fine sturdy little animals they appeared, mostly under seven years of age, and in excellent condition; a very different sight to what they were on arriving at Granton, when, after six and a half days' voyage, every rib showed distinctly through their wasted, tucked up forms.

After our dinner we lounged about in Reykjavik, paying a farewell visit to the few objects of interest it has for travellers, most of which have already been cursorily noticed in a previous chapter.

We spent some little time in the Museum again, which, after all, is not much of an exhibition, for, as our cicerone, the hotel-keeper's daughter, Fräulein Johannison, explained, all the best curiosities had been carried off to Denmark. I naturally looked everywhere in the little Museum for an egg of the Great Auk, or a stuffed specimen of the bird, but there was neither, which struck me as rather curious, considering Iceland was originally the home of this now extinct species. Not even an egg has been found for over forty years, although diligent search has been made by several well-known naturalists. The Great Auk was never a pretty bird; it was large in size, often weighing 11 lb. It had a duck's bill, and small eyes, with a large unwieldy body, and web feet. Its wings were extremely small and ugly, from long want of use, so the bird's movements on land were slow, and it was quite incapable of flight. On the water it swam fast and well.

There are only about ten complete specimens of this bird, and about seventy eggs, known to exist In March 1888, one of these eggs was sold by auction for £225.

From the Museum we entered some of the stores, and purchased a fair collection of photographs, some skin shoes, snuff-boxes, buckles, and other native curios; we than returned to the hotel, paid our bill, bade our host, hostess, and guides farewell, with many regretful shakes of the hand on either side, and finally quitted Icelandic ground about 9 p. m.

The evening was lovely, and after arranging our cabins we remained some time on deck watching the Northern Lights, which illuminated the entire heavens, and were most beautiful. Unfortunately we did not see the 'Aurora Borealis,' which in these latitudes is often visible.

The following afternoon as we were passing the curious rocky Westmann Islands, we slacked steam, to allow an old man in a boat to get the mail bag thrown over to him. He had rowed out some three miles to fetch the mail, and the bag contained exactly one letter, and a few newspapers. Steaming on again we sighted no more land until Scotland came in view, which we reached on Sunday afternoon. What a passage we had! It was rough going to Iceland, but nothing to be compared to our return voyage! We sat on deck, either with our chairs lashed, or else holding on to ropes until our hands were quite benumbed with cold, while huge waves, at least 15 feet high, dashed over the ship, often over the bridge itself. If we opened our cabin portholes for a little fresh air, which at times was really a necessity, the cabin was soon flooded, and our clothes and rugs spent half their time being dried in the donkey engine room.

Eleven of the poor ponies died, and had to be thrown overboard, a serious loss to their owners; but one could not help wondering that more of them did not succumb, so closely were they packed together, with very little air but that afforded by the windsails. It was marvellous how the sailors managed to drag out the dead from the living mass of animals. This they accomplished by walking on the backs of the survivors, and roping the dead animals, drew the carcases to the centre hold of the ship, when the crane soon brought them to the surface, and consigned them to a watery grave.

For six days the live cargo of beasts had to balance themselves with the ship's movement in these turbulent seas without one moment's respite or change of position. No wonder that on arriving at Granton they were in a miserable plight. Within five minutes, however, of our being roped to the pier they were being taken off in horse boxes, three at a time, and the entire number were landed in three hours.

The hot air from the stables was at times overpowering, notwithstanding that eight windsails were kept over it, which as they flapped in the wind, looked just like eight ghosts.

The Camoens was a steady sea boat, but better adapted for cargo than for passengers, especially lady passengers, and the captain did not disguise that he preferred not having the latter on board. Once in calm water we discovered we had seriously shifted our cargo, and lay all over on one side, so much so that a cup of tea could not stand, the slant being great, although the water was perfectly calm.

Well, we had accomplished our trip, and very much we had enjoyed it. We had really seen Iceland, that far off region of ice and snow, and had returned safely. The six days on board ship passed pleasantly enough for us; we had got accustomed to roughing it, and were all very good friends with each other, and the few other passengers. We found one of these especially interesting; he was a scientific Frenchman, who had been sent to Iceland to write a book for the Government, and being a very poor English scholar was very glad to find some one who could converse in his native tongue. We hardly saw a ship the whole way, but we saw plenty of whales, not, however, the kind which go to Dundee, where the whalebone fetches from £1200 to £2000 a ton.

We brought an enormous skeleton home which was found off the coast of Iceland; and such an immense size; it was sent to England as a curiosity for some museum.

Occasionally we had lovely phosphorescent effects, and as we neared Scotland, millions of pink and brown jelly-fish filled the water. At Thurso we hailed a boat to send telegrams ashore – such a collection! – to let our various friends know we had returned in safety from Ultima Thule. That night as we passed Aberdeen we entered calm water, and there was hardly a ripple all the way to Granton, where we landed at 3.30 on Monday, 23d August, exactly twenty-four days from starting.

Such a lovely day! The Forth looked perfect as we steamed up to our harbour anchorage. The grand hills and rocks and the fine old Castle were a contrast to poor little Reykjavik, the capital of Iceland. The pretty town, and the trees, how we enjoyed the sight of the latter, for we had seen no trees for weeks, and their green looked most pleasing amongst the stone buildings.

How busy, how civilised everything appeared! When will trains and carts traverse the Northern Isle we had just left? Oh, but where are the emigrants? Let us go and watch their surprised faces as they catch the first glimpse of this new scene. We went, and were sorely disappointed. They were merely standing together with their backs to the view, putting on their boots, or occupied about minor matters, taking no notice whatever of their surroundings, and receiving no new impressions. It must require a civilised mind, we suppose, to appreciate civilisation, just as it requires talent to appreciate talent.

Below is a table of our expenditure during our trip, which may perhaps prove of service to one wishing to enjoy an uncommon autumn holiday: —

Five people travelling together for twenty-five days disbursed each £20, 1s. 8d.