Iceland trip, 23 March 2016

We leave our farmhouse early. We're driving a few hours east to go to a glacier and lagoon, and we'll go back to Reykjavik tonight. The ponies must still be in bed because they don't come to see us off. 

Morning view from the farmhouse. 

We stop at a busy parking lot for bathrooms and the view. I think we are at the Mýrdalsjökull glacier, but it could be Eyjafjallajökull glacier: they're adjacent to one another. We drive to a less crowded lot that's much closer to the glacier. I walk less than a hundred yards before the canyon opens up in front of me, all icy water and dirty snow. Renee and Joe run ahead and pick their way across the rocks like mountain goats. I want to follow, but I'm distracted by the rocks at my feet. I find an otherwise ordinary rock that has a small geode inside. The more I look around, the more crystals I find. I pick up handfuls of rocks, tossing the slag and pocketing anything that shines. My coat bulges with stones; my pockets slap against my thighs. Even when the group walks back to the car I dawdle behind, trying to find any last treasures. Later tonight I'll go through the cache in our apartment, trying to decide which few rocks to keep. 

Mýrdalsjökull glacier. Probably. 

Eyjafjallajökull glacier. I think. 

We go past small homes, small farms, small villages. Places like Hof and Svinafell, places without names. We see a new rainbow every few minutes, and someone remarks how they've never seen so many rainbow ends. I agree- so many of these arch into the ground just off the road from us. You can see the whole spectrum, too. I try to take a panorama of one while we drive, and the motion of the car makes it less of a rainbow and more of a rainwiggle. I sleep a lot. 

Somewhere in southern Iceland. 

Rainbow.

Wiggly rainbow. 

We make it to Jökulsárlón, a lake created when the glacier retreated from the Atlantic Ocean. Apparently the glacier has been in a few Bond movies, a Tomb Raider movie, and Batman Begins. I look at the people ignoring the caution signs to walk far out onto the thin ice along the banks and think they might need to be rescued by one of those folks soon. Icebergs drift out of the lake and down a small estuary to float into the Atlantic.  

Jökulsárlón.

We stop so briefly at Hofskirkja Church in Hof, the last turf church in Iceland, but it takes no time to fall in love with it. It's at the base of a snow-patched hill, and the grounds are dotted with white crosses and burial mounds covered in the same turf. I could spend hours here, it's one of the most tranquil-feeling places. Hofskirkja is dedicated to Saint Clement, the patron saint of blacksmiths and metalworkers. His cross is an anchor. 

Hofskirkja Church.

Churchyard.

We try driving to a scenic stop from the main road, but the lane is so muddy we worry we'll get stuck. We have to back down the road to drier ground, and Joe drives while Becca directs him. We walk maybe a mile through sticky mud to Fjaðrárgljúfur, a beautiful canyon. I think it might be Kate's favorite place. She steps over the safety rail fence to get a closer look. 

Fjaðrárgljúfur.

Kate (blinking) and Molly at Fjaðrárgljúfur.

We head towards Vik to see the black sand beach. We stop for a bathroom at a convenience store and I see the saddest personal pizza I've ever seen. We get candy bars and sodas. 

Saddest pizza. 

Reynisfjara, the black sand beach, is crowded and bright. It's beautiful but so windy that my eyes water. The ocean here is the wildest surf I've ever seen. The waves are huge, absolutely enormous. I'm too wary of them to get close. A woman has her back to the water while she takes pictures and a wave knocks her down. She's completely soaked, and a man helps her stand up and walk toward the parking lot. 

Most of the visitors are clustered around the rectangular basalt formations along the cliff. They're beautiful, but impossible to photograph well because tourists are climbing all over them. 

I made the girls take an #instagram photo since I know how much Kate will hate it. 

I sleep more on the drive back to Reykjavik and our lodging. It's a newer apartment on the water near downtown. I sit in a dining room chair and it collapses underneath me, and I land hard on my ankle and butt. I'm embarrassed and bruised; I feel like a fat American, breaking a chair just by sitting down. I only sit on the couch or floor the rest of our time in the apartment. Kate makes me put my foot up on a cushion and ice it while we make dinner plans. I go with Becca and Joe to get food, and Becca and I can't stop giggling about the Icelandic spelling of "sooo good."