Day 32-exploring the Reykholt area

   February 5-One month ago today we arrived in Iceland.  That day seems like a long time ago, but it also seems like January has just flown by.  I know that those two statements appear to be contradictory, but that is how it feels.  I guess it must be true that time flies when you are having fun, because the whole family is enjoying being abroad.  Well, maybe Joslyn did not particularly enjoy yesterday.....  But, she woke up this morning feeling fine, so we got her some food and she started rebuilding her strength.


Mt. Baula under a bluebird sky.



   Ironically, the weather on our one-month anniversary was decidedly non-Icelandic, at least based on our experience here for the past month.  It felt more like early spring in Gunnison.  The sky was practically cloud-free, the air was crisp, and the temperature was a few degrees below freezing.  To top it off, it did not rain or snow all day long: the FIRST time that has happened here since we arrived!  Healthy kids?  Check!  Beautiful weather?  Check! 

                                                                                      It was time to go exploring.

   We decided to drive up the valleys of the Hvitá (White River) and of its tributary, the Reykjadalsá (Smoky Valley River), which extend east from Bifröst to the base of the Langjökull (Long Glacier), which is the second largest ice cap in Iceland.  Driving into Reykjadals, the reason for its name quickly became apparent as we saw numerous plumes of steam rising into the air from various hot springs.  Many of the hot springs were surrounded by farm buildings and I think all of them had been at least partially tapped for geothermal heating.

Varmaland as seen from across the valley: the girls' school buildings are on the left and the hot springs and geothermally heated greenhouses are on the right.

   Our first stop was the village of Reykholt (Smoking Hill).  After eating mediocre soup and fantastic bread at the hotel restaurant, we trooped on over to the Snorrastofa museum in the basement of the Lutheran church.  Coincidentally, we got to the church just as parishioners were arriving for Sunday services and we happened to run into Spencer's teacher Ingibjörg.  (Lutheranism is the state religion of Iceland and most Icelanders are Lutherans, although very few actually attend church.)  

Snorri's reconstructed hot tub.  The farmstead was originally
situated on the rise behind the the pool and was surrounded
by a stockade.  A circular staircase within the fortified farm
led to an underground passageway that opened outside of
fort at the pool.  Water from the hot spring about 100 yards
away was (and is) fed to the pool through a stone slab-lined
 conduit. 

   Reykholt is culturally significant for Icelanders because it was the home of Snorri Sturluson in the first half of the thirteenth century.  Snorri was a powerful chieftain and prolific writer at a time in Icelandic history when there was dramatic increase in literary creativity.  The large number of sagas that were written during this time are the enduring legacies of Iceland's literary Renaissance and its last cultural flowering before it lost its independence and endured a cultural and economic dark age that lasted until the 20th century.  This time period roughly coincides with and may be the result of the introduction of Christianity and of the Latin alphabet.  Whatever the reason may be, it became fashionable for the rich and powerful to write embellished historical tales of the Norse and the earliest Icelanders.  You can think of these authors as latter-day Nordic Homers (ancient Greek, not modern Simpsons).  They similarly comingled gods and people in their tales, which were usually based on real historical events.  For instance, the Saga of Erik the Red describes the attempt by his son Leif Eriksson to settle in North America.  These accounts were considered to be complete fiction until the remains of a Norse settlement at L'Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland was discovered in 1960.

Reconstruction of the more modest dwelling of Icelandic
peasants during the Middle Ages.

   Snorri Sturluson is widely regarded as one of the most skilled saga writers.  Furthermore, he wrote about Norse mythology and recorded the history of the Norwegian kings.  These works remain important and in some cases the only source of information about pre-Christian Norway.  Snorri was assassinated at Reykholt by his son-in-law on the orders of the Norwegian king, who was trying (ultimately successfully) to subjugate Iceland.  Consequently, Snorri has become one of Iceland's national heroes and his residence is a must-see for most Icelanders.  

    The adults could have spent more time in the Snorrastofa, but the kids had had their cultural fill, so we briefly walked around Reykholt and then headed over to the Hvitá valley to take in the scenery.  Our first stop was a couple of waterfalls.  The Hraunfossar (Lava Waterfalls) were stunning.  Water percolating through the extensive lava fields emerges at multiple sites at this location and cascades down into the Hvitá.

 

   About 100 yards upstream of the Hraunfossar, the Hvitá falls off of this lava field at Barnafoss (Children's Waterfall).  The name for this waterfall derives from a folk tale, which might be based on a true story.  The story begins at the farm, Hraunsás, which lies just over the ridge to the south of the Barnafoss.  (All farms have names.  Most of the names date back to the settlement of Iceland 1100 years ago and some are mentioned in sagas, allowing the precise locations of quasi-historical events to be determined.)  The farmer's family and their hired hands went to church on Christmas, but they left two boys at home.  When the family returned, the boys were missing.  They were able to follow the boys' tracks to the waterfall, where they ended on a stone arch above the falls.  The story concludes with the bereaved mother destroying the stone arch and renaming the falls Barnafoss to remind everyone of the tragedy.  There is actually still a stone arch lower in the chasm, under which the river barely fits, as you can see in the right-hand picture above.

Langjökull rising above the Geitlandshraun (goat land lava field).

Glacier-clad mountains to the south of the Hvitá valley.

   We continued east, topping out nearly 1000 feet above sea level where the occupied, fertile lowlands end and the highlands begin.  The impressive Langjökull dominated the southeastern skyline.  With the Sun setting by this point, we crossed the Hvitá and headed back west on its north side.  We stopped at the filling station/restaurant when we got back to highway 1 and had pizza for supper.  Spencer did not much care for the pizza, mostly because he is used to pizza almost uniformly being made with mozzarella cheese in the States.  In Iceland, that is not always the case! 
   We got back home after sunset, and the kids relaxed for a while, cleaned up, and then hit the sack.  Sally worked on her lecture notes for class the next day and I did the dishes.  It was getting near midnight at this point, and we really should have gone to bed.  However, we foolishly turned on the TV and the BBC was broadcasting the Super Bowl.  But, since that almost completely happened after midnight, that is a story to be told on Monday's blog.