Reykjavík Grapevine - 16.08.2013, Qupperneq 47

47
ÞÓRSHÖFN
VOPNAFJÖRÐUR
THORSHOFN
ILULISSAT
ITTOQQORTOORMIIT
NUUK
KULUSUK
NARSARSUAQ
GRÍMSEY
ÍSAFJÖRÐUR
AKUREYRI
EGILSSTAÐIR
REYKJAVÍK
our very best price is always online.
highly seductive offers to all our destinations
iceland, greenland or the faroe islands
airiceland.is
Travel The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 12 — 2013
We’re about 120 kilometres outside of Reykja-
vík, a lovely drive on Route 1. Our tour of south
Iceland includes volcano stories, perhaps in-
evitably. Restless Iceland is covered in volca-
noes that erupt on average every four years.
Spectacle
This 1,666 metre high volcano under the ice cap
isn’t obvious. It’s an “icing sugar snowy moun-
tain,” says Veronica. Below is a pastoral, red-
roofed farm.
Eyjafjallajökull, meaning “island moun-
tain glacier,” is one of Iceland’s 30 active vol-
canic systems. It awoke in February 2010 and
touched my life, worrying me but making me
feel alive. The eruption was preceded by thou-
sands of small earthquakes that volcanologists
monitored closely.
“Icelanders would come watch it. It was
amazing spectacle, especially in dark,” our
guide Helgi Jón Davíðsson says.
Eyjafjallajökull started spewing ash by April
14, 2010. Hundreds of locals were evacuated.
When it erupted I was in Uganda, checking
my flight on the Internet. I was confused to
read that Schiphol airport in Amsterdam, my
transfer airport to Canada, was closed.
I could never have guessed this eruption
“shut Europe’s skies,” causing a knock-out ef-
fect globally. Nobody knew how long it would
take for the ash to clear. Airports were crowd-
ed with people fighting for flights. I criss-
crossed Africa catching planes home.
Now I’m here in Hvolsvöllur outside the Ey-
jafjallajökull Visitor Centre. Its publicity says,
“Like the volcano in our back yard, we proudly
erupt…the Þorvaldseyri Visitor Centre—a fas-
cinating, family-run exhibit about the massive
Eyjafjallajökull volcano.”
The family farms cattle but since 1960 it
also grows grain crops. On their centre’s sign
is a 2010 image of that same red-roofed farm
but with ominous billowing smoke pouring
from the volcano.
“People were evacuated for three days to
a nearby village. They were allowed to return
once daily to check their animals. They drove
into a wall of darkness; ash: they could only
see three to four metres in front of the car,”
our guide tells us. “An extremely fine mate-
rial landed on everything. People had to really
clean their houses when they returned.”
Iceland was minimally affected. Keflavík
airport only closed for six days while millions
were stranded in Europe and beyond. Apart
from inconvenience and financial loss, there
was little suffering overall.
Voldemort
Eyjafjallajökull last erupted in 1821, blowing
ash for months.
Disaster or acts of nature, depending on
magnitude, can also bring opportunity. At the
Centre and along this road shops sell bags of
ash. Veronica picks up two pitted liquorice
black lava rocks and puts them in her pocket.
Helgi Jón says, “Nearby is Hekla, it is a
very active, powerful volcano. At the time of
the 1104 eruption people knew nothing of ge-
ology. They thought hot things were from hell,
the devil.”
Hekla has had at least twenty eruptions
since 1104.
We drive towards Vatnajökull, Iceland’s
largest glacier. Our guide says, “That’s Katla.”
It is in the distance. I feel he is wary of this vol-
cano. Is it my imagination or do we speed as
we cross its path? Helgi Jón says “Katla” as if
fears speaking its name, like Harry Potter’s vil-
lain Voldemort. Eyjafjallajökull’s eruptions are
reportedly followed by Katla erupting, its “An-
gry sister.” Katla’s 1918 eruption produced five
times the soot of Eyjafjallajökull. Since 2010,
Katla only had a minor sub glacial eruption.
“It will erupt; it is a matter of time. In July
2011 there was a little flood following a small
eruption that washed the road away. We are
going over a temporary bridge,” he says. Helgi
Jón’s tone is also one of respect for nature.
Some past eruptions caused horrific flood-
ing, famine and catastrophe. Skaftáreldar in
1783–1784 blew and produced a 580 square ki-
lometre lava field. Eruptions created icebergs
the size of multi-story buildings, crushing and
flooding all in its wake.
All we can see crossing the massive field
in our minibus is lava soil. We also visit a rem-
nant of a crushed bridge from a 1996 eruption
and flood.
“You can read Iceland’s history in the land,”
Helgi Jón says. “We are driving over lava from
the 1784 eruption.”
Gloomy
Now we’re in the lava desert. As sun is lower-
ing, we walk on endless black and brown lava
from old and new eruptions.
Veronica marvels at Helgi Jón’s story of
how hard it was for people and horses to cross
lava. Now moss grows on the rocks like car-
pet, but it’s still a moon-like and jagged walk.
Helgi Jón notes a benefit—improved soil
from volcanic ash. There’s good farming in
Iceland now.
If any nation adapts to change, it’s Iceland-
ers. They live with Mother Nature’s beauty
and beasts.
“Now we have high tech seismology and
know about moves in the earth’s crust,” says
our guide.
Eyjafjallajökull’s message to me is that we
must expect the unexpected, be alert and take
better care of the Earth, regardless of nature’s
plans. Keeping ‘death over your shoulder’ can
mean awareness of immorality and doing
meaningful things, like taking this trip.
Veronica writes in her made-in-Iceland Tu-
lipop journal. The cover is the cartoon charac-
ter Gloomy. “Gloomy is daring, adventurous
and above all brave. She lives at the base of
the Jam-Jam volcano,” the description says.
Veronica can imagine this as we stay at a
wonderful farm in Hali, amidst volcanoes. The
next day she hikes fearlessly across the spec-
tacular blue Svínafellsjökull, a nearby glacier
tongue.
“You’re brave like Gloomy,” I tell Veronica.
She smiles.
In Reykjavík we stroll on Skólavörðustígur
street. Veronica admires the volcanic rock
jewellery.
At the art supply store Litir og föndur we
buy tiny bags of black lava rock cut into beads.
“Let’s make necklaces,” Veronica says. Good
luck charms.
Icelanders live with volcanoes. We all do.
I can’t believe I am in front of the silent, even beautiful, vol-
cano Eyjafjallajökull. You’d never know the chaos it wrought
three years ago. Today it’s a powder blue sky winter day. I’m
here with my nine-year-old, Veronica. She remembers I was
stranded far away once and I remind her it was because of this
volcano’s ash.
Carol Devine
“Now we have high tech seismol-
ogy and know about moves in the
earth’s crust,” says our guide.