However often
it may be repeated, this appearance cannot fail to interest the
observer.
Herr Beck, the clergyman at Thingvalla, offered me the shelter of
his hut for the night; as the building, however, did not look much
more promising than the peasants' cottages by which it was
surrounded, I preferred quartering myself in the church, permission
to do so being but too easily obtained on all occasions. This
chapel is not much larger than that at Krisuvik, and stands at some
distance from the few surrounding cottages. This was perhaps the
reason why I was not incommoded by visitors. I had already
conquered any superstitious fears derived from the proximity of my
silent neighbours in the churchyard, and passed the night quietly on
one of the wooden chests of which I found several scattered about.
Habit is certainly every thing; after a few nights of gloomy
solitude one thinks no more about the matter.
June 17th.
Our journey of to-day was more formidable than that of yesterday. I
was assured that Reikholt (also called Reikiadal) was almost fifty
miles distant. Distances cannot always be accurately measured by
the map; impassable barriers, only to be avoided by circuitous
routes, often oppose the traveller's progress. This was the case
with us to-day. To judge from the map, the distance from Thingvalla
to Reikholt seemed less by a great deal than that from Reikjavik to
Thingvalla, and yet we were full fourteen hours accomplishing it -
two hours longer than on our yesterday's journey.
So long as our way lay through the valley of Thingvalla there was no
lack of variety. At one time there was an arm of the river Oxer to
cross, at another we traversed a cheerful meadow; sometimes we even
passed through little shrubberies, - that is to say, according to the
Icelandic acceptation of the term. In my country these lovely
shrubberies would have been cleared away as useless underwood. The
trees trail along the ground, seldom attaining a height of more than
two feet. When one of these puny stems reaches four feet in height,
it is considered a gigantic tree. The greater portion of these
miniature forests grow on the lava with which the valley is covered.
The formation of the lava here assumes a new character. Up to this
point it has mostly appeared either in large masses or in streams
lying in strata one above the other; but here the lava covered the
greater portion of the ground in the form of immense flat slabs or
blocks of rock, often split in a vertical direction. I saw long
fissures of eight or ten feet in breadth, and from ten to fifteen
feet in depth. In these clefts the flowers blossom earlier, and the
fern grows taller and more luxuriantly, than in the boisterous upper
world.
After the valley of Thingvalla has been passed the journey becomes
very monotonous. The district beyond is wholly uninhabited, and we
travelled many miles without seeing a single cottage. From one
desert valley we passed into another; all were alike covered with
light-grey or yellowish lava, and at intervals also with fine sand,
in which the horses sunk deeply at every step. The mountains
surrounding these valleys were none of the highest, and it was
seldom that a jokul or glacier shone forth from among them. The
mountains had a certain polished appearance, their sides being
perfectly smooth and shining. In some instances, however, masses of
lava formed beautiful groups, bearing a great resemblance to ruins
of ancient buildings, and standing out in peculiarly fine relief
from the smooth walls.
These mountains are of different colours; they are black or brown,
grey or yellow, &c.; and the different shades of these colours are
displayed with marvellous effect in the brilliant sunshine.
Nine hours of uninterrupted riding brought us into a large tract of
moorland, very scantily covered with moss. Yet this was the first
and only grazing-place to be met with in all the long distance from
Thingvalla. We therefore made a halt of two hours, to let our poor
horses pick a scanty meal. Large swarms of minute gnats, which
seemed to fly into our eyes, nose, and mouth, annoyed us dreadfully
during our stay in this place.
On this moor there was also a small lake; and here I saw for the
first time a small flock of swans. Unfortunately these creatures
are so very timid, that the most cautious approach of a human being
causes them to rise with the speed of lightning into the air. I was
therefore obliged perforce to be content with a distant view of
these proud birds. They always keep in pairs, and the largest flock
I saw did not consist of more than four such pairs.
Since my first arrival in Iceland I had considered the inhabitants
an indolent race of people; to-day I was strengthened in my opinion
by the following slight circumstance. The moorland on which we
halted to rest was separated from the adjoining fields of lava by a
narrow ditch filled with water. Across this ditch a few stones and
slabs had been laid, to form a kind of bridge. Now this bridge was
so full of holes that the horses could not tell where to plant their
feet, and refused obstinately to cross it, so that in the end we
were obliged to dismount and lead them across. We had scarcely
passed this place, and sat down to rest, when a caravan of fifteen
horses, laden with planks, dried fish, &c. arrived at the bridge.
Of course the poor creatures observed the dangerous ground, and
could only be driven by hard blows to advance.
