The worst soil is that
in the neighbourhood of Reikjavik; yet there we see many a garden,
and many a piece of meadow-land, wrung, as it were, from the barren
earth by labour and pains. Why should not the same thing be done
here - the more so as nature has already accomplished the preliminary
work?
Thingvalla, our resting-place for to-night, is situated on a lake of
the same name, and only becomes visible when the traveller is close
upon it. The lake is rather considerable, being almost three miles
in length, and at some parts certainly more than two miles in
breadth; it contains two small islands, - Sandey and Nesey.
My whole attention was still riveted by the lake and its naked and
gloomy circle of mountains, when suddenly, as if by magic, I found
myself standing on the brink of a chasm, into which I could scarcely
look without a shudder; involuntarily I thought of Weber's
Freyschutz and the "Wolf's Hollow." {36}
The scene is the more startling from the circumstance that the
traveller approaching Thingvalla in a certain direction sees only
the plains beyond this chasm, and has no idea of its existence. It
was a fissure some five or six fathoms broad, but several hundred
feet in depth; and we were forced to descend by a small, steep,
dangerous path, across large fragments of lava. Colossal blocks of
stone, threatening the unhappy wanderer with death and destruction,
hang loosely, in the form of pyramids and of broken columns, from
the lofty walls of lava, which encircle the whole long ravine in the
form of a gallery. Speechless, and in anxious suspense, we descend
a part of this chasm, hardly daring to look up, much less to give
utterance to a single sound, lest the vibration should bring down
one of these avalanches of stone, to the terrific force of which the
rocky fragments scattered around bear ample testimony. The
distinctness with which echo repeats the softest sound and the
lightest footfall is truly wonderful.
The appearance presented by the horses, which are allowed to come
down the ravine after their masters have descended, is most
peculiar. One could fancy they were clinging to the walls of rock.
This ravine is known by the name of Almanagiau. Its entire length
is about a mile, but a small portion only can be traversed; the rest
is blocked up by masses of lava heaped one upon the other. On the
right hand, the rocky wall opens, and forms an outlet, over
formidable masses of lava, into the beautiful valley of Thingvalla.
I could have fancied I wandered through the depths of a crater,
which had piled around itself these stupendous barriers during a
mighty eruption in times long gone by.
