Trip Reflection

31 May 2016

What can I say about my trip to Iceland? I am eager to return home to the United States, but am also very anxious about how I will respond when asked about this excursion. I'll probably end up muttering something along the lines of "it was cool," but this certainly does not do the Arctic island nation justice. Of course, literally Iceland is quite cool, but somewhere amongst the puffins, scoria cones, pahoehoe lava flows, and glacial summits I realized how completely different this place is from anything I have ever experienced, or will ever experience. Iceland's geographic setting between two spreading plates above a hotspot in the North Atlantic is unlike anything else on Earth, and benefits the island with unlimited geothermal energy, unique biodiversity, and a livable climate in spite of the high latitude. The Gulf Stream current also moves warm seawater from the Gulf of Mexico north across the Atlantic, contributing to Iceland's relatively warm climate. Due to the high latitude, Icelandic days are much longer than those in the United States during the spring and summer months. I'll be singing "Hello darkness, my old friend" like Simon and Garfunkel as I fall asleep in my own bed with the sun's light completely gone from outside my window. Although the sun may set around 11:30pm in May in Iceland, I never experienced complete darkness here. I expected this to alter my circadian rhythm, but thanks to frequent hikes and consistently busy daily schedules, I was able to fall asleep with great ease!
"Totally sick, bro!" Is probably what I'll end up saying when my friends back home inquire about the trip. However, there is certainly more to tell about the unique scientific, sociological, and economic features of Iceland. Being a visitor here from a place as different as the United States accentuates variations to an almost-humorous extent. For example, the fact that the Icelandic banks, liquor stores, and police stations frequently share a building actually made me laugh out loud. Also, the restrooms are quite different from the ones back home: in Iceland, the room with the toilet is referred to as the "Water Closet" or just "WC." The toilets themselves feature two flush settings: one for liquid waste and one for solid, an example of the many sustainable aspects of this country. It is fascinating to me that a place blessed with an abundant source of renewable energy would place such an emphasis on environmentally-friendly living. Greenhouses and gardens are commonplace in Icelandic backyards and community centers, people frequently bike and walk to get from place to place, portions at restaurants are smaller and prices higher to more closely reflect the costs of resource consumption, recycling bins are just as prevalent as trash cans, windows are larger, buildings constructed of recycled and locally-sourced materials, and trees and plants are widespread in urban areas as part of an effort to sequester carbon and mitigate climate change. Global warming is a grim reality to the Icelanders, as they depend on the shrinking glaciers for their survival. The Icelanders strive to be excellent stewards of the Earth, rather than exploit it to feed their consumption-driven economy and maximize short-term benefits. This is very different than in the United States. I look forward to the opportunity to share with my fellow Americans the lessons we can learn from the Icelanders to make our own country a more sustainable, efficient, and environmentally-friendly place. America, like Iceland, is blessed with tremendous natural resources and incredibly innovative people. Shifting our nation's focus from consumption to conservation is already happening, but we need to work to ensure that this process continues.

Over and out,
-B

Day 18

Sunday 29 May 2016
Vestmannaeyjar

We departed from our hostel after breakfast this morning at approximately 8:10am, arriving at the waterfall Seljalandsfoss at 8:31am. This scenic waterfall cuts through the heath-covered landscape to plummet over a 65 meter cliff, which once was the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. According to legend, an ancient female troll was attempting to cross the gorge but retreated in terror when she heard the bells ringing at nearby Asólfsskálar church. This waterfall is unique in that tourists can actually walk around via the cavern behind the falls. Viewing the waterfall from the inside was an inspirational experience, but one that made me very thankful for my rain jacket. On sunny days, the mist from the falls forms a rainbow. South of this location is a forested area, which is home to the entrance to a 20 meter long cave. This cave once was used as a gathering place for parliamentarians of Iceland's West Eyfellinga. We departed from this site at 8:26am, paced by a bit of urgency to make the ferry to the Westman Islands (Vestmannaeyjar in Icelandic) before its 9:45am departure. After a brief ferry ride aboard the ship Herjolfur, we landed on the largest and most populous of the Westman Islands, Heimaey, at 10:15am. Once there, we set out on a strenuous hike to the highest point on the island. Our trek was vertical at times, requiring us to climb ladders built into the rocky walls of the mountain, pull ourselves up ledges with chains and ropes, and ascend recently-constructed staircases. Near the summit, we observed many sheep and lambs, grazing on the green highland grass and fertilizing it with pungent-smelling digested matter. At the highest point, was a flashing red light structure, presumably to alert aircraft of the mountainous features on the island. Below this, there was a box labeled "Guestbook" in several different languages, and inside was a ledger which we signed collectively with: Furman University Earth and Environmental Sciences Department SC, USA; along with the date and the time of our ascension to the summit (12:15pm). I also signed the ledger with my name, the date, 12:15pm, and the initials U.S.A. The island Heimaey is home to 4,000-5,000 inhabitants. In 1973, an eruption along a north-northeast to south-southwest fissure resulted in a curtain of effusive lava flow which destroyed 417 homes and expanded the island's area by 20%. The eruption event began on 23 January 1973 and ended 3 July 1973, covering a quarter of the town with lava and much of the island with tephra, ash, and lapilli (more on this later). From our vantage point, we could easily see which parts of the island were created by this event, based on their red and black color, lack of man-made structures, and relatively recent vegetation. The Vestmannaeyjar were formed 10,000-20,000 years ago by sub-glacial volcanic eruptions. Like all of Iceland, this area is quite prone to volcanism. We enjoyed the 360 degree view, sandwiches, and chocolate for lunch, before beginning the perilous journey back to the base of the mountain at 1:15pm. We were back at our starting point by 2:00pm. Next, we walked into the fishing village, savoring the smell of fish processing facilities on our way. We stopped at an N1 gas station to use the Water Closet, rest our legs, and get a snack. Ice cream and french fries (courtesy of our generous professors) reinvigorated us students, and we were eager to embark on our next hike: to the top of one of the cinder cones produced by the fissure that erupted in 1973. Along the way, we climbed a set of stairs which led from the village street up to a high, rocky area covered in dandelions and purple flowers. This elevated ridge corresponds with the extent of the lava flow. From this point on, our path was rocky and steep. Red, black, and gray volcanic rocks formed an unstable gravel of tephra and lapilli beneath our feet, and the closer we came to the cinder cone, the more large pyroclastic bombs we observed. It was amazing to see how well the eruption site was preserved. Whether this was to provide warning of future events that may occur, or to concede the fate of the newly-created real estate to the will of God, I do not know. Upon reaching the top of the scoria cone, I could see a neat row of bumps and mountains, propagating outward from my vantage point along the north-northeast to south-southwest trend of the fissure. These knolls, hills, and mountains indicate the origin of the lava flow in 1973. The summit of this particular cone had a unique feature which reminded me of the geothermal situation that Iceland is blessed with: heat vents, sometimes in the simple form of rocks which were warm to the touch and sometimes in the form of crevasses and holes that radiated thermal energy so strongly that waves could be seen in the cold Icelandic air. Dr. Suresh found a particular geothermal vent which was ideal for heating his remaining french fries. After enjoying a couple of geothermally reheated fried potato slices, we made way for the museum Eldheimar. We arrived at the museum at 5:20pm, and immediately noticed the excavated remains of a fishing captain's house. This residence was buried beneath 50 meters of ash and tephra from 1973 to 2006. In fact, the museum of Eldheimar was build around this abandoned structure after it was resurrected by archaeologists. "The Green Island," as Heimaey was called prior to the eruption, was home to well over 5,000 people, 1,400 homes, and many acres of farm land before the event of 1973. Fish were the island's primary export, and as a result, Heimaey's economy depended on the sea. In late-January 1973, stormy weather confined the island's fishing fleet to the harbor. This turned out to be a tremendous blessing in disguise. As one citizen put it, "The Earth simply ripped apart, and fire flowed from the sea" on 23 January 1973. Along the fissure, tongues of erupting lava flowed up to 200 meters into the sky. However, thanks to the poor fishing weather, most people were able to be evacuated via ship. The sick and elderly were airlifted out on planes from Heimaey's unaffected airstrip. Over the course of the entire eruption, only one casualty occurred: a man breathed toxic fumes from the volcanic gasses and was subsequently killed. Unfortunately, fertile farm land and many animals were lost during the eruption. Luckily, the rescue and mitigation efforts were highly effective. A prominent geophysicist suggested pumping seawater onto the lava in order to redirect the flow, and this technique saved many people's homes and the economically-vital harbor. On average, 1,200 truck loads of ash and debris were removed from the village each day. Tephra from the event was reused to enhance the runway, and the redirected lava flow actually resulted in a safer, more sheltered harbor for Heimaey. This eruption prompted the largest evacuation of people in Iceland's history, and a third of those people never returned to the island. Some say there were signs of impending destruction prior to the event. Had the fissure erupted 30 years later, seismologists would have had the technology to detect volcanic activity in advance. Some people claim to have dreamt about an eruption prior to the event, while others cite 13 prior full moons as proof enough of inevitable misfortune. Ten years earlier, the Surtsey eruption built the newest of the Westman Islands in 1963, so regional volcanism was certainly something that the people were familiar with. After much learning, we departed Eldheimar at 6:40pm and arrived at Gott Restaurant at 6:57pm. There we enjoyed a fresh, locally-sourced dinner (I had the Italian-style chicken wrap, sweet potato, and salad), then scrambled to board the ferry before its final departure of the day. The views of the Vestmannaeyjar off her stern were some of the most beautiful I had seen in Iceland. Once she landed at 9:30pm, we boarded our bus and made way to Skógar, stopping only to collect a red-headed hitchhiker along the way. We were back at our hostel at 10:14pm, and anxious to get some much-needed rest after the day's events.
Still chilling,
-B

Day 13

Tuesday 24 May 2016

After waking at approximately 8:00am and breakfasting on yogurt with granola, toast with jam, and milk and juice, our educational expedition prepared to explore the cozy little eco-village that would serve as our temporary home: Sólheimar. Sólheimar attracts volunteers and students from around the world, and is situated in the heart of verdant fields west of Selfoss, south of Iceland's glacial mountains, and north of the Atlantic Ocean. Founded by an idealistic woman named Sesselja in 1930, Sólheimar's original purpose was to provide a home for the young and the disabled. Sesselja believed that the disabled should be independent, active participants in society, and that the non-disabled should adapt to the needs of the disabled. With these ends in mind, Sólheimar is currently home to around 100 people, 45 of whom are disabled. This micro-community strives for total sustainability, as it produces many goods from recycled materials and organic produce. The village features two turf-roofed guesthouses, a temporary home to students like us: international travelers interested in sustainability. Aside from sustainability, Sólheimar is established on the principle of social inclusion. The community welcomes disabled people, volunteers, and even former prisoners with open arms, so long as they constantly strive to conform to the community's five key pillars: community, nature, social activities, work, and faith. Though Sólheimar is privately owned and operated, it is open to all who embrace these ideals. The Center for Ecological Living and Learning (CELL) seeks to educate visitors about all forms of renewable energy, despite the fact that Icelanders obtain 100% of their energy needs from the island's geothermal and hydroelectric capabilities. For this reason, Sólheimar is home to Iceland's largest solar panels. Windmills also spin in the breeze in Sólheimar. Like the photovoltaics, wind turbines in this eco-village are for mostly educational purposes. A leader in the community mentioned that the long-term plan for the village is to expand the population to around 150-180 people, as well as to open a farm (in addition to the greenhouses in Sólheimar) and a facility in Reykjavik. The community leader, who was also acting as our guide, went on to describe how those living in Sólheimar would come together at 9:00am each morning as the church bell rings, hold hands, and unite in the singing of a song. The governance of Sólheimar consists of a 17-member committee and a board of directors, which make financial and developmental decisions. Our guide went on to explain the spiritual nature of this village. The community holds chapel services on-site every other Sunday, which are conducted by a priest who lives in Sólheimar and also serves as a community counselor. I noticed that the architecture of the buildings here is yet another example of the village's commitment to sustainability. Our guide explained that building floors are made of Icelandic rock, while all structures are insulated with natural materials. The sod-turf roofs control rainwater dispersion, divert runoff to irrigation systems, increase surface albedo, and evoke images of earth-covered homes in the Shire. All sewage is directed to a septic system which uses worms to convert waste to fertilizer used for agriculture. Food scraps in Sólheimar are composted and buildings in the village have many large windows, in order to take advantage of natural light and thus reduce electricity demand. After observing the town's architectural style, we entered the gym/theater. Built in 1986, this building honors a mentally disabled man named Reynir Petúr Ingvarsson who walked the entirety of Iceland's ring road in just 32 days. A real-life Forrest Gump, Ingvarsson was motivated by the need to raise awareness for disabilities and financial resources for Sólheimar. The eco-village also features workshops for art, ceramics, candle-making, and woodworking, giving occupants the opportunity to engage in constructive social activities. These workshops use materials such as recycled garbage, in an effort to be more sustainable. We visited the community chapel last, as it is the central part of the village. This place of worship is simply furnished, with trapezoidal windows lining both walls. A tapestry of Christ speaking before a group of women and children beneath a soaring dove is the focal point of the sanctuary. I also noticed that the tapestry is pentagonal in shape, with a sun and emanating rays in the center. These features are shared by the symbol of the community (see my sketch below). After our exploration of Sólheimar, we returned to our guesthouse. The name given to our guesthouse, Bergheimar, literally means "home of the echo" in Icelandic. Bergheimar guesthouse is run by a nurse whose specialty is treating cancer patients. The building was originally constructed as a place of respite for those battling with cancer, and continues to serve this purpose today. We departed Sólheimar and arrived in Selfoss at 1:45pm. Our objective: lunch. (Selfoss literally means "seal falls" in Icelandic; "sel"="seal," "foss"="falls.") We enjoyed a fine dining experience at Kaffi Krús, where I consumed a delicious cheeseburger with fries and the remnants of my colleague's grilled chicken penne pasta. After lunch, we elected to walk around the city's downtown area. My Furmanized friends and I could not resist the urge to stop at a bookstore, where I purchased an English yearbook on Iceland. My prize is leather-bound and published in 1926! After exhausting all avenues for enlightenment in Selfoss, we embarked on our gold-plated tube of a luxury megabus at 5:50pm and arrived at Kerid crater at 6:04pm. Thankful to finally be at a site of geologic significance, we vigorously explored the large scoria cone. Kerid lies on the northern end of a row of craters known as Tjarnarhólar. Kerid is shaped like an ellipsis, 270 meters long, 170 meters wide, and 55 meters deep. Water fills the bottom of the crater to a depth of 7-14 meters, variable due to fluctuations in the height of the water table. Kerid is an excellent example of the repercussions of a steam-eruption event. After walking the perimeter of the scoria cone and noting the pahoehoe lava flows and highly-vesiculated rocks, we departed for Bergheimar guesthouse at 7:05pm.

Signing off,

-B

Day 10

Saturday 21 May 2016
Today I awoke at approximately 8:30am to a delicious smell wafting up to my second floor bunk room. Upon heading downstairs to the kitchen, I discovered that a wonderful meal of scrambled eggs with peppers and onions and toast with jam had been prepared for us (presumably by the professors). After enjoying this breakfast, we embarked on a day-long hike at around 10:00am. After a few misadventures while searching for the trail, we eventually found a mountain path which led all the way to the next town, ten kilometers from Byldudalor. Along the way, we came across a stream which was mysteriously fenced off with barbed wire. Signs were posted in Icelandic, and based on their use of the word "vatn," we assumed that some sort of stream water testing was going on at this site. We walked parallel to the fence as far as the little path would take us. Then, we set off for the top of the ridge, in hopes of achieving a better view of the U-shaped valley bellow. The valley that is home to Byldudalor, like many Icelandic fjords, was formed by the downward slide of a glacier into the ocean. Over many millions of years, a glacier can mold the landscape by scraping away underlying layers of rock and sediment. In this way, glacial activity can lead to a distinctly U-shaped valley in the fjords. During the upward ascent of our hike, I noticed that the thick, crunchy, brown grass of the valley subsided to be replaced by gray, soft, springy moss and lichen growing on the rocks. I also noticed that the vast majority of rocks we encountered on the Icelandic ridges were basaltic, and highly fractured due to the yearly freeze/thaw cycle. The upper slopes of the ridges had numerous patches of snow remaining from the winter, and from the highest ridges we were able to spot the glacier-covered peaks of distant mountains poking over the horizon. I enjoyed a fresh apple early in our trek. For lunch, I had prepared a peanut butter, honey, and Nutella sandwich, along with a few of the surprisingly-tasty Digestibles cookies. After lunch, the group elected to push on to the top of the ridge. To our astonishment, at the top of each ridge, another higher ridge was visible in the distance. These many-tiered ridges reminded me of some giant's staircase, leading up into the heavens. We continued this climb until we were overlooking much of the valley. Along the way, I greatly enjoyed a couple of stops we took for quiet meditation. It was awesome to be able to take in the steady sounds of wind whipping over the jagged cliffs and the faint roar of some remote waterfalls, especially without anthropogenic interference. We did not return to out hostel until after 4:30pm. This hike was long, but very rewarding. There are so few moments that occur in our busy lives when we can enjoy the still landscape and the soft sounds of nature. At around 6:00pm, we began preparing a meal of soup, with potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, onions, and celery. (I was tasked with dicing the potatoes and tomatoes.) We also had some wafers and sausage meat with our soup, and Dr. Suresh was generous enough to add some zing to my dinner by sharing his chilli pepper. After this delicious meal, I decided to get some rest and heal my feet from the hard day's hike.
-B

Day 8

Thursday 19 May 2016
Encounter with Puffins
Today, we departed from our hostel in Byldudalor at approximately 9:26am. Our destination was the cliffs of Latrabjarg, the westernmost point in all of Europe. While en route aboard our golden megabus, I noticed many fish farms in the submerged glacial troughs of the fjords. Aquaculture is a major industry in Iceland, as our driver, Thor, explained. Fish is a significant Icelandic export, so deep sea angling is augmented by aquaculture to help meet market demands. According to our guide, these particular fish farms probably raise cod. Nearing the destination cliffs, I noticed the rocky highland landscape begin to subside and be replaced by rolling sand dunes with tall, brown grasses. The weather was partly cloudy, bright, and sunny. From the comfort of our bus, I would have expected to be met with warmth upon our arrival at Latrabjarg. Of course, this is Iceland, so I grabbed my layers in spite of these foolish preconceived notions. At 11:14am, the bumpy, dirt road ended in parking lot and we had arrived. The weather outside was windy and cold, but did not stop us from reading some signs which provided information about the birds which nest here, as well as a daring nautical rescue on a stormy winter day. First the rescue: on 12 December 1947, the trawler Dhoon ran aground in the rocky shoals at the base of the cliffs. A team of Icelandic villagers decided to rappel down the vertical cliffs (which are 444 meters above the ocean at their highest point) to rescue the stranded crew members below. The cliffs are so steep as a result of constant weathering from the ocean below, which endlessly pounds away at the base. We also learned about the ten different bird species which nest in the cliffs. These species include the razorbilled auk, kittiwake, guillemot, and fulmar. The puffin, a member of the guillemot family, is distinguishable from its avian brethren by its brightly-colored bill. The fulmar looks similar to a common seagull in appearance, but has been known to regurgitate fish oil on its predators as a defense mechanism. In total, over one million birds call the cliffs of Latrabjarg home, and a handful of my friends were unlucky enough to be defecated upon by them. Aside from being one of the primary nesting homes for the Icelandic puffin, this site is also the largest nesting site in the world for the razorbilled auk. After initially observing some soaring fulmars and blubbery seals sunning themselves on the rocks below, I set out in search of the iconic puffin. Based on the information presented by the sign, I knew that puffins (like other guillemots) lay their eggs in scree growing in cliff sides or burrow into rock niches and narrow ledges in order to nest. While on my puffin trek, I almost lost my hat in a strong gust of wind. The wind whips over the ledges very strongly here, motivating one of several warnings posted around Latrabjarg. The other warning involved the treacherous, loose soil along the edge of the cliffs, explaining that nesting birds create holes and weak spots on the ledges. I finally spotted three puffins emerging from their niches just below the top ledge of the cliffs. These fidgety birds were approximately eight inches tall, and not shy at all around humans. I was able to take numerous close-up photos of all three birds before one of them flew off, probably to collect some fish. Puffins have the advantage of being able to dive up to 60 meters into the water to capture their prey. After spending some time observing the puffins, I decided to hike over to the shallow, rocky tidal pools downhill and inland of the cliffs. There was no observable wildlife in these tide pools, but they were ideal spots for skipping rocks. On my way back to the cliff ledge, I noticed a relatively large fragment of broken egg (about two inches in diameter) and a feather longer than my boot in length, further evidence of the many avian species which inhabit this area. On our return trip from Latrabjarg, we stopped to collect samples of sand from the beach. Using a magnet, Dr. Ranson discovered that the sample was laden with magnetite grains. While searching for dinner aboard our gilded automobile, we stopped for a brief stretch break at an aircraft museum. I immediately noticed the dismantled US Navy B-27 in front of a locked hangar. Inside the hangar was a cool chrome biplane and an old jeep, both in wonderful condition. After a bit more driving, we finally arrived at Heimsendi Bistro, a restaurant nestled in another small fishing village tucked away in the fjords. Thor had to convince the chef to open the restaurant a bit early (we arrived at around 4:30pm, and they didn't open until 6:00pm), but I doubt this was a very challenging endeavor given the fact that there were 20 starving Americans outside ready to patronize his establishment. The meal I had at this bistro was probably the best I've had in Iceland (except for the chilli we made for ourselves earlier). I had the roasted lamb, which was served with potatoes, vegetables, bread, and even some complimentary coffee. The coffee was a nice boost for the end of the day. After enjoying a crisp walk around town and observing some children at play in the streets and on the soccer field, we disembarked aboard our bus at around 6:55pm and returned to our hostel in Byldudalor by 7:30pm.
Signing off,
-B

Day 6

Tuesday 17 May 2016
This morning, we departed for an Icelandic shark museum ("Safn Museum") at around 10:55am and arrived approximately 20 minutes later. The museum curator immediately pointed out an old phone, which pretty closely resembled a wooden box with two silver metal bells, an attached earpiece, and a mouthpiece on a coiled wire. The curator laughed as he described how phone service was not provided in this region of Iceland until the early 1980s, making it one of the last places in the world to be "added to the grid." He then began explaining how many generations of his family have prepared the native Greenland shark species for consumption, stressing how every part of the animal is used in some way. For example, the shark's thick, insulating fat is converted into lamp oil for distribution all over the European mainland. Greenland sharks are never actually hunted or intentionally caught by anglers, but rather caught as bycatch by trawlers. By the time the trawlers haul their catch aboard, the Greenland shark is likely already dead. However, thanks to people like those we met today, these animals do not go to waste. Since antifreeze is used by the Greenland shark's circulatory and excretory systems (the shark circulates its own antifreeze-rich urine prior to expulsion) to protect the animal from the cold waters in which it resides, the meat must be fermented for three to four months before human consumption. The Greenland shark lives exclusively in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic, usually over three kilometers deep, and can weigh up to 2,500 pounds. Greenland sharks are not picky eaters, evidenced by the partially-digested seal pelt, polar bear leg, and porpoise skull that were on display at the museum. However, due to their deep, cold habitat, this species has never attacked a human being. There is no controversy about the sale of Greenland shark meet, since the fish is exclusively caught as bycatch. After providing a brief history lesson about "shark-hunting" in the North Atlantic, the curator encouraged us to sample some protein-rich Greenland shark meat. I obliged, first trying the meat with a piece of rye bread (to help diffuse the intense salty flavor), then eating a chunk of the cured shark meat by itself. The meat was tough and rubbery, and salty enough to burn the back of my throat and nose. The taste of shark meat lingered for a while, as I explored the rest of the exhibit. The museum had many other local bird, fish, seal, and mammal species on display, as well as live chickens, ducks, sheep, lambs, and dogs. I fed the chicken and ducks some old bread, then checked out the drying shed, where the curator/pastoralists hang shark meat while the harmful constituents are neutralized. The market price for Greenland shark meat is around 10,000 krona per kilogram. Shark meat is certainly a niche market, since the supply is provided by unpredictable bycatch. Before we left this site, the curator's elderly father shared an Icelandic folk tale with us (with the help of our bus driver, Thor, who translated from the Icelandic) about Iceland's "hidden people." These elves are common characters in Icelandic folk lore, and have been known to reek havoc when humans come close to disturbing their habitat... I certainly learned a great deal about the sustainable use of the Greenland shark species, as well as local folklore and animal husbandry, at the only shark-fermenting facility in the world. After departing from the museum/pasture at around 1:00pm, we ate a lunch of pizza topped with mussels, olives, jalapeños, and sundried tomatoes. We then returned to the hostel and prepared for an afternoon hike. We set out on this hike at around 5:15pm, and began the long, strenuous trek to the top of Egilsskard fjord. It took us nearly three hours to reach the summit. Although there were taller peaks in the vicinity, the view from the top and the sense of accomplishment after having climbed up the nearly-vertical rocky cliffs made the trip well worth it. I'm very thankful for the thick moss which coated most of the fjord, as it gave me plenty of places to grab hold to during the climb. Aside from the many basaltic rocks seen along the way, I noticed some small, pretty purple flowers on the high slopes of the fjord. There were also many patches of snow left over from winter, which fed the creeks and streams below. At the summit, we noticed rocks with a zeolitic mineral coating. The view from the top of this fjord was absolutely incredible in all directions, with glacier-covered mountains and steep, basaltic saddles on one side and the village of Grundarfjordur and the North Atlantic on the other. This scene was far too beautiful to describe, and probably the most incredible thing I've seen in my entire life. Because of the late sunsets in Iceland, we had plenty of daylight to enjoy the hike back down to our hostel. The return trip was expedited by my decision to slide down the snow patches. Once we arrived at the base of the fjords, we followed the main stream across the pastureland and eventually back to our hostel. That night, we celebrated our accomplishment with home-cooked bean chilly with salad and rye bread. I certainly slept well after such a strenuous hike, but I know that the memory of the view from the top of Egilsskard fjord will be with me for a lifetime.
-B

Day 5

Monday 16 May 2016
"The Inconvenient Truth"
We departed this morning from our new hostel, Grundarfjordur, at around 10:30am. We arrived at the scalding hot waters of the Deildartunguhver springs (approximately 19 meters above sea level), which produces the greatest output of any thermal spring in the world at 180 liters per second. The temperature of this water averages 212 degrees Fahrenheit, and can cause second or third degree burns when it contacts the skin. Massive clouds of steam are observable billowing from the discharging water. We departed from this site, and by around 3:50pm had arrived at a beautiful country church for a brief expedition. This church was established by Snorr Snurluson, who is honored today by a statue in front of the chapel. There was a distinct ellipsis of rock in back of the chapel, likely from an old bath house, as well as a warm pool and a partially-underground "hobbit hole" with a door behind the little circular pool. We eventually departed this locale, bound for an expedition to the core of Langjokull (literally, "long glacier"). By 5:19pm, we had set out on our expedition via a converted NATO missile truck, which now features a large passenger container instead of rocket launchers. We began this journey at an elevation of around 155 meters, traveling through Husafell forest which had once reached from the Icelandic highlands to the coastline. We traveled along a rugged dirt passage until reaching the edge of glacial ice. I noticed that the landscape in this area becomes rockier and the vegetation more sparse with increased elevation. Our guide explained that the vehicle's tire pressure has to be reduced in order to increase traction on this rugged terrain. After driving for a while along bumpy, dirt road, we crossed onto the glacier. The cave into Langojull is man-made, as glaciers cannot form caves naturally. Our guide, who is a third generation glacier explorer, explained how the cave is extended and shortened seasonally based on the melt/thaw cycle, but always falling deeper into the ice as snow buildup compresses the glacier below. The opening to the glacial tunnel is at 1,260 meters above sea level. For comparison, anything above 500 meters is considered Icelandic highland, and on the brink of becoming protected lands. Anyway, our journey into the glacier began at about 6:10pm. Once we had crossed through the initial wood and metal tunnels, we immediately noticed the layers of volcanic ash present in the ice. These layers behave similarly to rings in a tree trunk, allowing scientists to date the glacier based on known volcanic events. As we explored the glacier, we came to a chapel room, in which our guide explained the importance of the glacier to the Icelandic people (glacial melt is the primary source of fresh water in Iceland, and Langokull is the second largest glacier on the island), and the Earth system as a whole (glaciers prevent sea level rise by storing water, and also reflect light due to their white color which increases surface albedo thus cooling the planet). Unfortunately, since the Industrial Revolution in the 1700s, and especially since the onset of the 1900s, increased levels of atmospheric carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases have warmed our climate's atmosphere by trapping heat energy. Because of the economic development of many poorer nations, the rate of greenhouse gas emissions has been increasing exponentially over the last twenty years. Our guide also told us about an international team of scientists, which drilled three kilometers into the ice sheet covering Antarctica in 1984, revealing 800,000 years' worth of data on the chemical composition of our atmosphere. These data validate the theory that atmosphere carbon has been increasing at unsustainable rates due to anthropogenic processes (such as the consumption of fossil fuels). While many Icelandic scientists say it is already too late to save their primary source of water from irreparable damage, we must act now to stem the tide of greenhouse gas emissions. Because each subsequent year is the hottest on record and a global mean temperature increase of 2-3 degrees centigrade could have terrible consequences for humanity, 97% of world scientists have accepted the truth of global climate change. "The inconvenient truth," as they have called it, is causing glaciers to melt everywhere, from Iceland to Antarctica. Even Steven Koonin, the chief scientist at BP oil company (the world's second largest supplier of oil), has acknowledged the importance of developing a long term solution to this problem. Glaciers are a source of 3% of the world's fresh water, and loss of surface albedo from glacial retreat posses a positive feedback loop, in which decreased reflectivity leads to higher ocean temperature and thus further glacial loss. Similarly, methane ( a greenhouse gas even more potent than carbon dioxide) is stored in permafrost. Melting permafrost is another positive feedback loop in which temperature increase causes permafrost to melt, releasing more methane, further contributing to greenhouse gas concentrations. Currently, the Icelanders are pumping water out of Langjokull to slow the melting. Lights in the ice cave are also set to shut off to avoid excess heat radiation. The lights shut off with us in the caves multiple times. When this happened, visibility was reduced to nothing in the sheer darkness. Water pockets, bubbles, and puddles were visible throughout the glacier cave and within the ice itself. This sobering reminder of the reality of climate change is something our guide makes a point to mention to all tourists visiting the cave. After reaching a depth of 40 meters into the ice,  we made our way back to the exit tunnel. Before we left, the guide mentioned that the tunnel took six years to develop and has been open since only June of 2015. Also, the environmental impact of the glacier tunnel is a minimal .00275% of Langjokull's ice, and should totally collapse in on itself in 20 years. We returned to base camp at 9:05pm, and re-embarked on our golden bus towards the hostel. On the way, we stopped shortly at Hraunfossar Bornafoss (named for two children who died in the falls on Christmas Day) which are formed by spring water flowing through the lava fields of Hallmundarhraun and into the river Hvita. The lava field itself is made of pillow lava and formed in about 800AD. Aa and Pahoehoe flows are visible in the lava field, as well as basalt everywhere. The one kilometer-wide falls and surrounding scrublands were declared a national monument in 1987. We returned to our hostel at around 12:15am, and got some long-awaited sleep.