He led me to the margin of the basin of the great Geyser, which lies
on the top of a gentle elevation of about ten feet, and contains the
outer and the inner basins. The diameter of the outer basin may be
about thirty feet; that of the inner one six to seven feet. Both
were filled to the brim, the water was pure as crystal, but boiled
and bubbled only slightly. We soon left this spot; for when the
basins are quite filled with water it is very dangerous to approach
them, as they may empty themselves any moment by an eruption. We
therefore went to inspect the other springs.
My unsteady guide pointed those out which we might unhesitatingly
approach, and warned me from the others. Then we returned to the
great Geyser, where he gave me some precautionary rules, in case of
an intervening eruption, and then left me to prepare some
accommodation for my stay. I will briefly enumerate the rules he
gave me.
"The pillar of water always rises perpendicularly, and the
overflowing water has its chief outlets on one and the same side.
The water does indeed escape on the other side, but only in
inconsiderable quantities, and in shapeless little ducts, which one
may easily evade. On this side one may therefore approach within
forty paces even during the most violent eruptions. The eruption
announces itself by a dull roaring; and as soon as this is heard,
the traveller must hastily retire to the above-named distance, as
the eruption always follows very quickly after the noise. The
water, however, does not rise high every time, often only very
inconsiderably, so that, to see a very fine explosion, it is often
necessary to stay some days here."
The French scholar, M. P. Geimard, has provided for the
accommodation of travellers with a truly noble disinterestedness.
He traversed the whole of Iceland some years ago and left two large
tents behind him; one here, and the other in Thingvalla. The one
here is particularly appropriate, as travellers are frequently
obliged, as stated above, to wait several days for a fine eruption.
Every traveller certainly owes M. Geimard the warmest thanks for
this convenience. A peasant, the same who guides travellers to the
springs, has the charge of it, and is bound to pitch it for any one
for a fee of one or two florins.
When my tent was ready it was nearly eleven o'clock. My companions
retired, and I remained alone.
It is usual to watch through the night in order not to miss an
eruption. Now, although an alternate watching is no very arduous
matter for several travellers, it became a very hard task for me
alone, and an Icelandic peasant cannot be trusted; an eruption of
Mount Hecla would scarcely arouse him.
I sat sometimes before and sometimes in my tent, and listened with
anxious expectation for the coming events; at last, after midnight -
the witching hour - I heard some hollow sounds, as if a cannon were
being fired at a great distance, and its echoing sounds were borne
by the breeze. I rushed from my tent and expected subterranean
noises, violent cracking and trembling of the earth, according to
the descriptions I had read. I could scarcely repress a slight
sensation of fear. To be alone at midnight in such a scene is
certainly no joke.
Many of my friends may remember my telling them, before my
departure, that I expected I should need the most courage on my
Icelandic journey during the nights at the Geyser.
These hollow sounds were repeated, at very short intervals, thirteen
times; and each time the basin overflowed and ejected a considerable
quantity of water. The sounds did not seem to proceed from
subterranean ragings, but from the violent agitation of the waters.
In a minute and a half all was over; the water no longer overflowed,
the caldron and basin remained filled, and I returned to my tent
disappointed in every way. This phenomenon was repeated every two
hours and a half, or, at the latest, every three hours and a half.
I saw and heard nothing else all night, the next day, or the second
night. I waited in vain for an eruption.
When I had accustomed myself to these temporary effusions of my
neighbour, I either indulged in a gentle slumber in the intermediate
time, or I visited the other springs and explored. I wished to
discover the boiling vapour and the coloured springs which many
travellers assert they have seen here.
All the hot-springs are united with a circumference of 800 to 900
paces: several of them are very remarkable, but the majority
insignificant.
They are situated in the angle of an immense valley at the foot of a
hill, behind which extends a chain of mountains. The valley is
entirely covered with grass, and the vegetation only decreases a
little in the immediate vicinity of the springs. Cottages are built
every where in the neighbourhood; the nearest to the springs are
only about 700 to 800 paces distant.
I counted twelve large basins with boiling and gushing springs; of
smaller ones there were many more.
Among the gushing springs the Strokker is the most remarkable. It
boils and bubbles with most extraordinary violence at a depth of
about twenty feet, shoots up suddenly, and projects its waters into
the air. Its eruptions sometimes last half an hour, and the column
occasionally ascends to a height of forty feet.
