Irksome as this curiosity was, I was obliged to endure it patiently,
for I could not have sent these good people away without seriously
offending them; so I began quietly to unpack my little portmanteau,
and proceeded to boil my coffee over a spirit-lamp. A whispering
consultation immediately began; they seemed particularly struck by
my mode of preparing coffee, and followed every one of my movements
with eager eyes. My frugal meal dispatched, I resolved to try the
patience of my audience, and, taking out my journal, began to write.
For a few minutes they remained quiet, then they began to whisper
one to another, "She writes, she writes," and this was repeated
numberless times. There was no sign of any disposition to depart; I
believe I could have sat there till doomsday, and failed to tire my
audience out. At length, after this scene had lasted a full hour, I
could stand it no longer, and was fain to request my amiable
visitors to retire, as I wished to go to bed.
My sleep that night was none of the sweetest. A certain feeling of
discomfort always attaches to the fact of sleeping in a church
alone, in the midst of a grave-yard. Besides this, on the night in
question such a dreadful storm arose that the wooden walls creaked
and groaned as though their foundations were giving way. The cold
was also rather severe, my thermometer inside the church shewing
only two degrees above zero. I was truly thankful when approaching
day brought with it the welcome hour of departure.
June 5th.
The heavy sleepiness and extreme indolence of an Icelandic guide
render departure before seven o'clock in the morning a thing not to
be thought of. This is, however, of little consequence, as there is
no night in Iceland at this time of year.
Although the distance was materially increased by returning to
Reikjavik by way of Grundivik and Keblevik, I chose this route in
order to pass through the wildest of the inhabited tracts in
Iceland.
The first stage, from Krisuvik to Grundivik, a distance of twelve to
fourteen miles, lay through fields of lava, consisting mostly of
small blocks of stone and fragments, filling the valley so
completely that not a single green spot remained. I here met with
masses of lava which presented an appearance of singular beauty.
They were black mounds, ten or twelve feet in height, piled upon
each other in the most varied forms, their bases covered with a
broad band of whitish-coloured moss, while the tops were broken into
peaks and cones of the most fantastic shapes. These lava-streams
seem to date from a recent period, as the masses are somewhat scaly
and glazed.
Grundivik, a little village of a few wretched cottages, lies like an
oasis in this desert of lava.
My guide wished to remain here, asserting that there was no place
between this and Keblevik where I could pass the night, and that it
would be impossible for our horses, exhausted as they were with
yesterday's march, to carry us to Keblevik that night. The true
reason of this suggestion was that he wished to prolong the journey
for another day.
Luckily I had a good map with me, and by dint of consulting it could
calculate distances with tolerable accuracy; it was also my custom
before starting on a journey to make particular inquiries as to how
I should arrange the daily stages.
So I insisted upon proceeding at once; and soon we were wending our
way through fields of lava towards Stad, a small village six or
seven miles distant from Grundivik.
On the way I noticed a mountain of most singular appearance. In
colour it closely resembled iron; its sides were perfectly smooth
and shining, and streaks of the colour of yellow ochre traversed it
here and there.
Stad is the residence of a priest. Contrary to the assertions of my
guide, I found this place far more cheerful and habitable than
Grundivik. Whilst our horses were resting, the priest paid me a
visit, and conducted me, not, as I anticipated, into his house, but
into the church. Chairs and stools were quickly brought there, and
my host introduced his wife and children to me, after which we
partook of coffee, bread and cheese, &c. On the rail surrounding
the altar hung the clothes of the priest and his family, differing
little in texture and make from those of the peasants.
The priest appeared to be a very intelligent, well-read man. I
could speak the Danish language pretty fluently, and was therefore
able to converse with him on various subjects. On hearing that I
had already been in Palestine, he put a number of questions to me,
from which I could plainly see that he was alike well acquainted
with geography, history, natural science, &c. He accompanied me
several miles on my road, and we chatted away the time very
pleasantly.
The distance between Krisuvik and Keblevik is about forty-two miles.
The road lies through a most dreary landscape, among vast desert
plains, frequently twenty-five to thirty miles in circumference,
entirely divested of all traces of vegetation, and covered
throughout their extreme area by masses of lava - gloomy monuments of
volcanic agency. And yet here, at the very heart of the
subterranean fire, I saw only a single mountain, the summit of which
had fallen in, and presented the appearance of a crater. The rest
were all completely closed, terminating sometimes in a beautiful
round top, and sometimes in sharp peaks; in other instances they
formed long narrow chains.
