Reykjavík Grapevine - 20.06.2014, Blaðsíða 45

45The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 08 — 2014 TRAVEL
In Jules Verne’s fantastical novel, the
Snæfellsjökull volcano is an entry point
to the centre of the Earth. But in the
real Iceland, Þríhnúkagígur is the only
volcano where dreams of descent can
be realised, and only since the summer
of 2012 has it been accessible to the
general public—nearly 150 years since
Verne first took readers into the abyss
of the Icelandic netherworld.
Grandpa At The Helm
Our Virgil is not Professor Otto Liden-
brock but rather a young Icelandic
woman who introduces herself as Opa.
“I’ve heard it means grandpa in Greek,”
she says, as the five of us set off on the
45-minute walk to basecamp, now don-
ning neon yellow raincoats.
It takes me a minute to realise it, but
Opa is actually better known as Þor-
björg Helga Dýrfjörð, who starred as
young Hera in the 2013 film ‘Málmhaus’
(“Metalhead”), the role for which she
won Best Actress at the latest Icelandic
Film and Television awards. Chauffeur-
ing people across lava fields and into
volcanoes just happens to be her sum-
mer job.
Although it is possible to get to
basecamp via a helicopter, I can’t help
but think—in spite of the sideways-
blowing rain—that it would be a shame
to miss this walk, which takes us from
one continental plate to another via
a small bridge over the Mid-Atlantic
Ridge.
In Good Hands
At basecamp—a couple of sheds that
had to be brought in by helicopter—we
meet our second set of guides, Einar
Stefánsson and Óli Þór Júlíusson, who
run the tour company with Björn Ólafs-
son.
Although our ascent is just 40 me-
tres, it’s comforting to know that Einar
was amongst the first group of Iceland-
ers to climb Mount Everest. Once we
reach the volcano’s peak, he and Óli
shepherd us across a narrow bridge to
a suspended cable lift, the same kind
that routinely carries window cleaners
up and down skyscrapers.
I gaze into the abyss, but not long
enough for it to gaze back at me. It’s
120 metres down, nearly two times the
height of Reykjavík’s landmark Hall-
grímskirkja church. It’s deep, and I’m
terribly afraid of heights.
Shit, I think. It’s too late to change
my mind.
Óli pushes a button and we begin
our descent through the volcano’s nar-
row 4×4 metre opening. “As you can
see here on the left-hand side, the
magma splattered against the walls,
pulsing up in thin layers,” Einar explains
as we continue down at an even-keeled
pace. “Then it leaked down a little bit,
which is why you have these forma-
tions.”
When we reach the bottom, they
unhook our harnesses and set us free
to explore the 50×70 metre vault, which
is room enough for three full-size
basketball courts. It’s hard to fathom
though, given the piles of rocks that fill
the space in an uneven fashion.
The First Man Down
Einar tells me that his brother Árni was
the first to venture into the chamber
forty years
ago. He was
e x p l o r i n g
caves in the
area when
he overheard
s o m e b o d y
talking about
an opening
in the moun-
tain. “At the
time, people
knew the cave
existed, but
nobody knew
exactly what it was,” Einar tells me.
Later that summer, he got his friends
to lower him down by hand from the top
with a 200 metre long rope. “They didn’t
know how deep it was and they didn’t
have any radios or lights,” Einar notes.
In 1993, Árni returned with a team
including his brother, Óli and Björn, and
they managed, over the course of two
days, to conduct a survey of the cham-
ber, including the side cave that Árni
failed to see on his first trip with his
small torch.
The fact that we are standing here,
inside this cave, is thanks to a crew
from National Geographic. “They came
to make a documentary film about Ice-
landic volcanoes after Eyjafjallajökull
erupted. Some geophysicist told them
about this chamber, and they asked if
we could bring them down here,” Einar
says.
“It’s very difficult to bring down
inexperienced people and equipment
with ropes, so we told them that it
would cost them a lot of money be-
cause we had to build some kind of lift.”
Standing In Awe
Since they started offering tours in the
summer of 2012, Einar estimates that
they’ve taken six or seven thousand
people down here, with some travelling
to Iceland specifically to take this trip,
which doesn’t surprise me given the
sheer novelty of the experience.
“Usually when an eruption is over
the structure collapses onto itself and
you only see a crater on the surface,” he
notes. “Geophysicists who
have been here tell us that
you cannot see this any-
where else in the world.”
I look around and
can’t help but think that
Mother Nature moonlights
as a 20th Century Abstract
Expressionist, leaving be-
hind a canvas of deep blues
and purples mixed with rich
oranges and reds.
I see that it’s still
raining up above. I trace
the raindrops as they fall
120 metres down to the rocks below,
filling the otherwise silent chamber
with its pitter patter.
I am in awe.
Distance from Reykjavík
37 km
I gaze into the abyss,
but not long enough for
it to gaze back at me.
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