Jökulsárlón, Kirkjubæjarklaustur and Fjaðrárgljúfur: Canny Names, Canny Places
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| Iceland |
Although intending to spend the night at the isolated hotel at the end of the red line on the map below, a mix up by our travel
agents had sent us back to a hotel just outside Kirkjubæjarklaustur. Even
Icelanders find the name intimidating and often call the village simply
‘Klaustur’ – and so shall I.
Our relocation meant our morning’s intended visit to Jökulsárlón now required a drive of 124km along Route 1, Iceland’s Hringvegur (ring road).
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| Day 3, we drove from Kirkjubæjarklaustur to Jökulsárlón (ringed) and back |
Kirkjubæjarklaustur to Jökulsárlón
As we had yesterday evening, we drove alongside the inland cliffs over the old lava fields that long ago replaced the sea, and past the
stream with its little waterfalls that was again attracting a crowd of photographers.
Then we approached what looked like the end of the cliff - or possibly the world.
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| Towards the end of the cliff east of Klaustur |
Beyond, we entered a plain of younger lava as we headed for the distant, cloud covered bulk of Vatnajökull (lit: Glacier of Lakes).
Covering 7,900km² (8% of Iceland’s land area) and with ice thickness averaging
380m, Vatnajökull is Iceland’s largest ice cap and the second largest in
Europe. We would have to visit the Russian arctic island of Novaya Zemlya to
see the largest, and I doubt that will happen.
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| Towards Vatnajökull |
Hvannadalshnúkur, Iceland’s highest peak at 2,110 m (6,900 ft), is somewhere up in the mist on this corner of the icecap.
‘Jökull’ (j as in English y, ö like the u in English fur, ll like tch or tk depending in the speaker) means
glacier. Vatnajökull is a roughly circular ice cap glacier with numerous outlet glaciers leading off it. We stopped at a pull-off to inspect the snouts of a pair of such glaciers coming down either side of a rocky outcrop.
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| A pair of glaciers either side of a rocky outcrop Vatnajökull |
At low level there is abundant meltwater running off the glaciers into channels scoured through the lava field. Of the many bridges, most are
single track (some were being upgraded), but there is little traffic on the
ring road so the chances of having to stop for someone else to cross are very
small – though not quite zero.
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| Stopping for traffic by a bridge over a meltwater channel |
The only real traffic we encountered was at our closest approach to the ice cap where we swung right to follow it down to the sea. Here
a convoy of vehicles following a four-wheel drive pulled out of the Skaftafell
Terminal Tour Centre. They soon turned into a minor road towards Svinafelljökull and a glacier tour.
Jökulsárlón
According to the Rough Guide even in winter [Jökulsárlón] is one of Iceland’s tourist black holes, the car park choked with rental vehicles and tour buses and crowds milling in every direction. We drove our rental car there in mid-summer and although there were plenty of cars and people it was not overcrowded. Presumably Covid was keeping down the numbers, particularly of tour buses.
In these latitudes the Little Ice Age persisted until the end of the 19th century. By 1890 the Vatnajökull outlet glacier Breiðamerkurjökull (they
do have some names!) had advanced to around 1km from the coast. Since then, it
has retreated to over 6km.
In the 1930s a proglacial lake or lagoon formed in the depression left by the retreating glacier. The lake, named Jökulsárlón, grew as the glacier continued its retreat. In 1975 Jökulsárlón covered some 8km² which has now increased to 18km².
It is believed to be the deepest lake in Iceland with a maximum depth close to 300m.
The lake is now owned by the Icelandic state and they have built a mound to give visitors a panoramic view.
The glacier’s tongue floats on the water and icebergs are being continually calved into the lake.
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| Breiðamerkurjökull looking across Jökulsárlón |
Often as much as 30m high they drift gently seawards decreasing in size as the slowly melt.
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| Recent(ish) icebergs in Jökulsárlón |
Inflatables and amphibious vehicles take tourists out for a closer look, the amphibians loading and unloading by the observation mound.
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| Amphibious vehicle returns, Jökulsárlón |
Kayakers also paddle about the lake, as do grey seals. The ring of water between the leading kayak and the other two boats was caused
by a seal uncooperatively submerging as I pressed the shutter. Those whom seals
approve can spot them basking on the icebergs, but clearly I have inadvertently upset sealkind.
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| Tourist boat, kayaks, but nor seals, Jökulsárlón |
Further from the glacier, but conveniently beside the car park, most icebergs run aground. They largely sit still, though currents
and wind can shift them, until further melting allows them to continue their
journey. On average a berg will spend some five years in the lagoon.
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| Lynne and the icebergs, Jökulsárlón |
Icebergs can be milky white or bright blue, depending on the air trapped within and the way light hits the ice crystals. Some have black
veins, a few are completely black having picked up volcanic inclusions from past eruptions.
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| Icebergs, Jökulsárlón |
There was a commotion on the far side of the lake. One berg, the size of a small car, turned over, and those around started rushing for the sea with unglacial urgency
To reach the sea, the bergs must traverse the length of the Jökulsárl, Iceland’s shortest river. It is usually quoted as being 1km
long, but measuring the obvious channel gives 440m. It is the only river in the
world (as far as I know) that can be photographed in one shot.
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| Icebergs jostle down the River Jökulsárl |
At the end is Diamond Beach, its black volcanic sand studded with washed up icebergs which might, if tourist marketing is your
thing, be said to resemble diamonds.
Kirkjubæjarklaustur (Klaustur)
Our drive back to Klaustur was uneventful but on our return the village and its surrounds no longer looked wild and remote but well-populated
and green. The road to Jökulsárlón had changed our perceptions.
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| Nearing Klaustur, the region looking green and almost over-populated |
Jóns Steingrimsson and the Fire Mass
In the main street (there are few others!), opposite the tourist information centre, is the Kapella Eldprestins, the ‘Chapel of the Fire Priest’.
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| The Chapel of the Fire Priest, Klaustur |
The church is obviously modern, but in the adjacent field is a depression, presumably the site of the old church and the grave of Jóns Steingrimsson, the ‘Fire Priest’ himself.
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| The grave of Jons Steingrimsson, Klaustur |
Laki is a volcano between Vatnajökull and the smaller Mýrdalsjökull we saw yesterday. Associated fissures run from one
icecap to the other through the volcano which is 30km inland from Klausters, though
the fissures come much closer.
Laki erupted in June 1783 with explosive ejection of lava at multiple sites along the fissures.
On July 20th 1783 as a wall of lava moved towards Klaustur, Jóns Steingrimsson gathered the population in his
church, and gave an impassioned sermon begging the Almighty to spare the church,
the people, and the town from the fiery consequences of their ungodly lifestyle.
He was an effective preacher as the Eldmessa (Fire Mass), as his last-ditch effort became known, stopped the lava 200m from the church.
Unfortunately, in the bigger picture, the saving of Klaustur was a minor victory. The eruption, which continued until February
1784, poisoned the grasslands, killing most of Iceland’s farm animals and
causing a famine that killed a quarter of the population. Weather patterns were
affected worldwide and poor harvests were commonplace, the worst famine killing
about a sixth of Egypt’s population. In Europe, clouds of sulphur dioxide
formed an enduring reddish haze, resulting in several hundred thousand deaths
from respiratory ailments.
Systrakaffi
Despite having only 500 inhabitants Klaustur is the biggest settlement on Route 1 between Vík and Höfn (a distance of 272km) and has a fuel
station, a bank, a post office, a supermarket and a café.
The café, next door to the church is called
Systrakaffi, ‘systra’ being a reference to the sisters of the Benedictine convent
which existed here from 1186 until the Icelandic Reformation in 1550. It may
call itself a café, but it is actually a full-scale café-bar-restaurant. We
dropped in for a light lunch – coffee and pizza – and found they had plenty of
customers.
Kirkjugólf ("The Church Floor")
The so-called church floor is in a field beside the village. The tops of basalt columns buried in the earth form a natural pavement
which (with a little imagination) resembles a paved church floor.
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| Lynne of the 'Church Floor', Klaustur |
It is not very big, but it is remarkable. I had always taken it on trust that basalt columns are regular hexagons, but I had never before seen them from above. Allowing for their becoming chipped over the millennia, these are polygons, many but by no means all are hexagons and few are regular. The
most obvious feature in the picture below is a regular pentagon…
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| Part of the 'Church Floor', Klaustur (with the end of a shoe for scale) |
….while one area is composed of rectangles.
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| Rectangular basalt columns, Church Floor', Klaustur |
I find this fascinating, though I am a retired maths teacher and others might see it differently. As geology is one of my areas of ignorance,
I shall quote from the ever-reliable Wikipedia. During the cooling of a
thick lava flow, contractional joints or fractures form. If a flow cools
relatively rapidly, significant contraction forces build up. While a flow can
shrink in the vertical dimension without fracturing, it cannot easily
accommodate shrinking in the horizontal direction unless cracks form; the
extensive fracture network that develops results in the formation of columns.
These structures are predominantly hexagonal in cross-section, but polygons
with three to twelve or more sides can be observed.
Hildishaugur, Hildir’s Grave Mound
Walking to and from the ‘Church Floor’ we passed Hildir’s Grave Mound.
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| Hildir's Grave Mound, Klaustur |
Icelandic heritage is largely Nordic, but they have an Irish side, too. St Brendan may have visited Iceland several centuries
before the first Norse settlers, and Klaustur was reputedly a haven for Irish
hermits long before the Benedictine convent was built.
The hermits were horrified when a pagan called Hildir Eysteinsson announced he was moving in amongst them. Fortunately, the first (and last) thing he did when
he arrived was to drop down dead. He is buried under Hildir’s Grave Mound. There
may or may not be a grain of truth hidden in that story.
Stjórnarfoss
Near Kirkjugólf a path between a river and the village camp site leads to Stjórnarfoss, one of Klaustur’s two waterfalls. Annoyingly, the closer you approach the waterfall, the less you can see as the sloping section becomes hidden behind the bulging rock at the bottom.
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| Stjórnarfoss, Klaustur |
Fjaðrárgljúfur
A couple of kilometres west of Klaustur, Route 206 leaves the Ring Road and heads north. It winds past a small farming community
and heads up over a hill where Route F206 turns off to the right. F roads are
highland roads, irregularly maintained gravel tracks which always have potholes
and often fords of unknown depth. F roads require four-wheel drive and vehicles
travel in groups of 2 or more.
The (effless) 206 also becomes a gravel road before descending to a car park where it ends. We had reached the old sea cliffs, now separated
from the waves by several kilometres of lava flows. Numerous waterfalls tumble over
these cliffs, some mere wisps of spray blown in the wind, some mare’s tales
(see yesterday’s
post) others outright torrents (see tomorrow’s)
Occasionally a river finds a weak spot and over the millennia excavates a canyon. The River Fjaðrá (Feather River)
has done exactly that, and Route 206 ends where Fjaðrárgljúfur (Feather River Canyon) opens onto the lava plain.
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| The mouth of Fjaðrárgljúfur and the lava plain beyond |
A well-made path leads up - at first sharply and then more gently - beside the canyon…
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| The path up the side of Fjaðrárgljúfur |
…and follows the top of the canyon wall.
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| Fjaðrárgljúfur |
Small paths to airy rock promontories are fenced off, both for the health of the canyon and the health of those who might venture
out there. In May 2019, Fjaðrárgljúfur was closed for safety reasons after its
appearance in a Justin Bieber music video caused a surge of visitors. Appropriately
for my age, I have heard of Justin Bieber and believe he is allegedly a singer,
but know (and care) nothing more. We were happily unaware we were following in
his footprints.
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| Fjaðrárgljúfur |
The canyon is 100m deep…
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| Fjaðrárgljúfur |
…and 2km long. It starts, and our outward walk ended, where the Fjaðrá slides down a section of hard rock from the plateau above.
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| The River Fjaðrá slides into Fjaðrárgljúfur |
The path continues over the heath beyond. Two white buildings can be seen in the distance, an isolated farm presumably connected to the rest
of the world by Route F206.
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| The path beyond Fjaðrárgljúfur |
Liking The Magma Hotel
Returning to Klaustur, we followed the same side road that yesterday took us to our less than stellar accommodation. Before reaching it,
we turned into the drive of the Magma Hotel.
‘You will like the Magma,’ we were told yesterday during the emergency rebooking, but our view of the first row of cabins on a low, cold
ridge did little to impress.
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| Part of the Magma Hotel - it doesn't look like much! |
Reception and the restaurant occupied a separate building, hidden in a dip behind the ridge. We checked in and found one of those cabins
was to be ours for the night. We turned the key with trepidation but Icelanders
care much more for the interior of a building than how it looks from outside.
Our room was comfortable, light and airy and far larger than seemed possible
from the exterior. The wall opposite the door was one large window with a view
over pools and a river running through old grassed-over lava fields. We did
like the Magma.
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| View from our room, Magma Hotel |
Arctic Char
With no other restaurant nearby, we dined at the hotel. Generally, in Iceland the ingredients are good quality and the cooking competent but lacking in flair. Menus tend to be short, expensive and unimaginative. At Magma we were, for once, offered something different.
Arctic Char is related to salmon, spawning in fresh water and spending its adult life in the ocean. It is common throughout the sub-arctic region but appears on too few Icelandic menus.
Scottish farmed salmon is becoming a pest, ever-present in British supermarkets it has invaded Portuguese menus, at least in the Algarve,
where they have better and fresher fish of their own, I have even seen it in
Vietnamese markets. The unfortunate fish never have the chance to flex their muscles, so it is pale pink, flabby and bland. Arctic char has everything farmed salmon has lost, yet is a distinctly different fish. Firm, close textured and fine flavoured it was
served with Icelandic potatoes (as they told us proudly) and pak choi,
presumably from the greenhouses of Hvaragerði.
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| Arctic Char, Magma Hotel, Klaustur |
Good food deserved a bottle of wine, and I spotted that the humble ‘Vin de France’ on the wine list was made by the ever-reliable Bouchard Ainé
of Beaune. Working in the heart of Burgundy, most years they will have declassified Vin de Bourgogne to sell off, and this bottle did not disappoint. Quality wine at a bargain price - by Icelandic standards.
We had desserts, too. Lava pudding a local speciality like a chocolate fondant, and a cake, crisp on top, crumbly within.
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| Desserts |
It was our most expensive meal in Iceland (and there were no cheap ones!) but it was the best, and worth every krona.
Part 1 Introduction to Reykjavik
Part 2 West from Reykjavik along Route 1
Part 3 A Calving Glacier, a Basalt Pavement and an Otherworldly Canyon
Part 4 Vik, Skógafoss and Skógar
Part 5 The Golden Circle, Gullfoss, Geysir and Þingvellir
Part 6 The Snæfellsnes Peninsula: Whale Watching and Fermented Shark
Part 7: Covid Testing, Grindavik and the Blue Lagoon
Part 8: A Day in Reykjavik
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