Lögberg-Heimskringla - 03.10.2003, Side 7

Lögberg-Heimskringla • Föstudagur, 3 október 2003 • page 7
PHOTO BY OTTO CHRISTENSEN
Relaxing in the Blue Lagoon, a welcome balm before heading home
vents at Námafjall, an out-of-
this world mountain of virtual-
ly pure sulfur. Here again the
hospitality was heartwarming
and overwhelming. Sigrún
Skarphéðinsdóttir, who lives
just next door, came in next
morning and treated our entire
group to breakfast!
We drove east again, skirt-
ing the top of the Ódáðahraun
barrens, and crossing the
mighty river, Jökulsá á Fjöl-
lum. This river rises in the
great Vatnajökull glacier, spills
north over Dettifoss, and emp-
ties into the ocean at Öxar-
fjörður to the north. A car
flagged us down on this lonely
moorland, and Aðalsteinn
Aðalsteinsson and Sigrún
Björgvinsdóttir came aboard to
welcome us, and to act as tour
guides down to Egilsstaðir.
South and east we went, and
turned in at a lonely place
called Sænautasel, a turf farm
house and barn which has been
preserved as a heritage site and
tourist attraction.
It was raining lightly as we
walked over to the sod covered
buildings, and here we got a
sense of what living conditions
would have been like for our
people, before they left for
America. It was warm inside.
And the barn was cozy, having
been transformed into a rather
unique dining room,
enwrapped with sod walls, and
the supporting timbers of a
bygone time. Before we left the
choir sang, unaccompanied
under the rafters for our noon-
time providers, and we left
feeling richer for the experi-
ence.
Aðalsteinn and the people
of Egilsstaðir had been prepar-
ing for our visit for quite some
time. We would sleep and eat at
the Brúará school, a few kilo-
meters out of town, and again
the choir would put on a full
concert at the Egilsstaðir
church. This had its special
moments. Rosalind had select-
ed a poem by local poet, Hákon
Aðalsteinsson, Vor við hafið,
and set it to music. This would
be the first time that Hákon
would hear his poem rendered
in music by the choir, and it
was an emotional time, as the
choir sang with particular
warmth and feeling.
The entire audience was
deeply moved. At the close of
the concert, much to our
amazement, gifts by local
artists were presented to the
entire choir group - certainly
we all left with a special
warmth in our hearts for this
place and its people.
We left Egilsstaðir next
morning having had breakfast
prepared for us courtesy of the
Friends of Canada in East Ice-
land, and served by many of
the good people of the area. It
was foggy as we left
Egilsstaðir, but the sun came
out to afford us a spectacular
view of the East Fjords.
For most of us it was our
first time through this area, and
places such as Reyðarfjörður,
Fáskrúðsfjörður, Stöðvar-
fjörður, Breiðdalsvík, Beruf-
jörður, Djúpivogur and Höfn
are now forever etched in our
memory. There is astonishing
beauty mixed with a sense of
solitude in this part of Iceland,
an area whose villages are
largely dependant on the fish-
ing grounds nearby.
What stood out for us were
the sparkling streams of crystal
clear water flowing every-
where down the steep moun-
tainsides to the sea.
We spent the night at Hrol-
laugsstaðir at the base of the
big glacier, Vatnajökull, well
positioned for yet another day
of wonders awaiting us next
moming.
Rain during the night, and
another foggy moming. It was
a short distance to Jökulsárlón,
a small lagoon at the base of
glacier, Breiðamerkurjökull.
The fog was lifting, and the
base of this immense mountain
of ice was visible. Great ice-
bergs, broken from the base,
floated towards the ocean near-
by, or stranded on the sandy
bottom loomed before us, scat-
tered haphazardly across the
lagoon — an unforgettable
sight!
Driving on, the clouds lift-
ed, and from time to time val-
leys filled with glacier ice
oozed down to the sea. The
road led past Svínafell, from
where Flosi and his men rode
in the saga times, on their way
to the buming of Njáll.
Up to Skaftafell we went,
stopping at a rise of land over-
looking the great black sand
flats of Skeiðarársandur. The
sun had taken full control now,
and the view was staggering. It
is here that glacial floods burst
forth, sometimes sweeping
away everything in their path,
roads, bridges and power lines.
It was a morning filled with
natural beauty, but time dictat-
ed that we must keep moving
to our next destination.
Gunnarsholt was occupied
in settlement times by Gunnar
Baugsson, grandfather to the
hero of Njál’s saga, Gunnar
from Hlíðarendi. Gunnarsholt
is now the Soil Conservation
Centre for Iceland, and it was
here we were headed. There
would be lunch for the group,
hosted by the center’s director,
Sveinn Runólfsson and his
wife Oddný. It had been a long
drive and this was a most wel-
come stop.
An added pleasure was to
be met there by our former
Consul General, Eiður Guðna-
son and Eygló Haraldsdóttir.
Having enjoyed a wonderful
Icelandic lunch, and having
been formally welcomed by
Sveinn, the choir sang a num-
ber of songs from its repertoire
for our hosts and friends. A
fine suxprise awaited us all,
when from behind the curtains
of space and time stepped the
saga heroes, Gunnar and Njáll
fully armed, and dressed in
their Viking age regalia.
PHOTO BY WANDA ANDERSON
The choir by Lögberg at Þingvellir
PHOTO BY DAVID GISLASON
Björn Sveinsson demonstrating horsemanship
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