Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.08.2013, Side 47

47
ÞÓRSHÖFN
VOPNAFJÖRÐUR
THORSHOFN
ILULISSAT
ITTOQQORTOORMIIT
NUUK
KULUSUK
NARSARSUAQ
GRÍMSEY
ÍSAFJÖRÐUR
AKUREYRI
EGILSSTAÐIR
REYKJAVÍK
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Travel The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 8 — 2013
I’m exploring Iceland with my daughter. Veron-
ica is in her ninth winter, as age is measured in
Egil’s Saga. While investigating climate change
I treasure having a junior adventurer along for
company and perspective.
We’re in Reykjavik before sunrise. Veronica
is crashed on a café couch. We are waiting for
geologist Björn Hróarsson, or someone from
Extreme Iceland, to take us to Jökulsárlón,
which literally translates to “glacier lagoon.”
The small tour bus is full except for a couple
of single seats at the back. A kind Australian,
Zack, moves so Veronica and I can sit together.
He’s traveling with a lovely and hilarious group
of 30-year olds Veronica calls “the teenagers.”

After several hours of driving to the southeast
we’ll see the floating icebergs. I’m excited but si-
multaneously troubled to know Iceland is melt-
ing. The largest glacier in Europe, Vatnajökull, is
melting more rapidly than expected, like other
Arctic and Antarctic ice. The sea rise and other
impacts will be local and global. University of
Iceland glaciologist Helgi Björnsson predicts
Iceland’s main ice caps may vanish in 150–200
years.
Our guide for this trip is one Helgi Jón
Davíðsson, “Helgi,” he says, “means holy.” A
former businessman, he’s energetic, a fountain
of knowledge and generous storyteller.
Youth
Youth emerges as a theme on this trip: youth is
beauty, inspiration, eruptive and fearless. The
young grow exponentially, as does Iceland, the
youngest country in the world. Iceland expands
some 2.5 cm a year.
Iceland feels vibrant, its geology a lethal and
life giving mix of fire and ice. This country was
born out of the ocean 14 million years ago. Ice-
land straddles the mid-Atlantic ridge divided
by the North American and Eurasian tectonic
plates. It’s a kid country compared to mainland
Europe.
Veronica writes in her journal: “Iceland is
gloomy.” Could the gloom she feels be the over-
cast morning? Because Iceland looks like the
moon? Our guide’s anecdotes of disaster: erup-
tions, floods, death, and even financial collapse?
I don’t ask.
I hope Veronica also absorbs the stories of
resilience, ingenuity and renewal.
As we approach the lagoon. Helgi Jón says,
“I’ve seen Jökulsárlón change in my monthly
visits over the last two years. The glaciers are
getting smaller and thinner. The lagoon gets
bigger,” he says. He calls the glacier retreat
“horrifying.”
Forever Changes
We’ve reached Jökulsárlón. Veronica is fiercely
independent and runs out the bus door. I chase
her. The blue ice cream lagoon shines.
Far from us is the jagged glacier field of
crackly blue ice. In front are icebergs: small, tall,
wide, sharp, icy and stripy. One looks like an al-
ligator. Snow crystals, like tiny mirrors, reflect
light and create colours. Deep sky, powder, in-
digo and Prussian blue: many of the 62 shades
of blue. The icebergs are also snow white and
contain raven black—ancient volcanic ash runs
through them.
Veronica and I slide down the hilly snow-cov-
ered moraine beside the lagoon. Zack tries it but
flies down an odd-shaped snow patch and hits
rocks, ripping his snow pants. All the while he’s
on his phone with his mom in Australia.
Jökulsárlón is about 80 years old.
Breiðamerkurjökull, an outlet glacier of Vatna-
jökull, began to retreat in the 1930s, birthing the
lagoon. Jökulsárlón has expanded a reported
four times since the ‘70s, its icebergs melting or
floating out to the sea.
Everything changes over time and Veronica
knows about ice ages from the animated Holly-
wood ‘Ice Age’ films with their relatively happy
endings. I share with her that change is con-
stant; climate shifts naturally but also unnatu-
rally.
I ask our guide if he thinks humans contribute
to global warming. “I think everybody agrees
that we have something to do with it. The curve
of the last 30 years tells us that. I’m afraid our
children and grandchildren will probably experi-
ence difficulties,” he says.
We are amidst something powerful and por-
tent. Why are beautiful things often tragic?
I ask Veronica how she feels about the ice
melting.
“Is it good or bad?” she asks.
“Bad,” I reply.
“I feel sad,” she says.
Growth
Helgi Jón doesn’t overly focus on worrying
facts.
“The winter is quite warm this year. With
climate change comes birds and insects. Trees
and vegetation grow better and faster than be-
fore,” says Helgi Jón.
He anticipates future disasters but like
me, believes citizens and politicians can make
change and new clean technology can help. In-
ternational cooperation will be crucial.
The positive thing about youth (or youthful
thinking) is their hopefulness and playfulness.
It’s Tuesday at sunset, we’re back on the bus.
The Australians request Helgi Jón stop at the
Vínbúð (liquor store) so they can grab a bottle.
He laughs, “There is a state monopoly on alco-
hol sales. It’s closed.”
Helgi Jón spontaneously shares Iceland’s
history of alcohol, including universal stories of
its misuse. Beer arrived here officially in 1989,
we learn. Iceland is a young country.
Extreme Iceland
It is dark in Reykjavik. No chance of northern
lights. C’est la vie. I don’t have beer, but enjoy
a quick Katla vodka (named after Katla volcano)
with “the teens” at the Kex Hostel. The Kex is
a cool, cosy former biscuit factory. Veronica
dreams away, exhausted from this Extreme Ice-
land tour.
What’s extreme about the voyage depends
on one’s willingness to soak in nature’s offerings
and truths. You can climb over the moraines and
shout out how precious it is, or sit and watch the
icebergs. ‘Glacial’ pace has new meaning.
The Icelanders I met respect nature. They
have to. Who doesn’t?
I ask Veronica, “Do you still find it gloomy
here?”
“No,” she says. “I love it.”
Veronica is writing in her journal. I peek,
wondering if I’ll read her wisdom about the envi-
ronment. She’s written, “Doors are hard to open
and close in Iceland.”
But she tells her dad on the phone, “I want to
use the car less and turn off the lights to try to
stop the ice from melting so when I come back
in 2043 the lagoon might be here.”
On the old metallic elevator wall in the Kex
lobby, Veronica is spelling something with the
scattered magnetic alphabet letters. “ISLAND
IS HAPPINESS.”
I’m exploring Iceland with my daughter. Veronica is in her ninth
winter, as age is measured in Egil’s Saga. While investigating
climate change I treasure having a junior adventurer along for
company and perspective.
Carol Devine
Carol Devine