Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.02.2016, Blaðsíða 53

complements it. Beautifully, it melts
around the hot pools, revealing vivid
green and gold vegetation beneath it
like an Impressionist peek-a-boo.
We then journey over to the King-
dom of Gullfoss, which I now believe
should only be viewed in winter. The
waterfall is spectacular, even more
awe-inspiring than it is in the summer.
Half is frozen—an icy tundra of Hen-
neth Annûn—while half runs wild like
a stallion of Rohan.
At 12:30, we finally meet up
with the rest of our fellowship, now
deemed Arctic Adventures, who lead
us over to a big SUV with hilariously
large wheels. I think back to my pony
(bike) in the Shire (New York City) with
a sense of nostalgic longing.
However, soon after we set out on
our perilous road through mounds of
snow, I’m grateful for the gargantuan
tyres. The car bounces and falls and
bounces and falls until I am convinced
I am about to, as they say, journey
west into the undying lands. But those
trusty tyres save us. While I panic,
there’s a lot of joyful “whooping” com-
ing from the back passengers. Hobbits.
Mount Doom
We finally get to the edge of the glacier
and enter a small campsite. There we
get our new accoutrements—a row of
gleaming red snowmobiles. I feel like
I have been gifted by Galadriel her-
self—but this is so much better than
some stupid elven rope.
After the gift of the snowmobiles,
we receive our cloaks—red jump-
suits of the finest polyester, with a
helmet of the most solid plastic. Af-
ter some quick instruction, we set off
on the snowmobiles, and I finally get
a chance to look around. “Whoa,” I
blurt out. I am surrounded by dusty
badlands—a Mordor of white. There
is no life as far as the eye can see, just
mountains and mountains of snow
with the occasional black speck of
snowmobile in the distance. This gla-
cier awes me. It dwarfs me. I feel small.
But I can’t spend too much time
looking around—I’m in action! Hap-
pily for me, the snowmobile is easy
to use. With only one gear and one
accelerator, it’s easy to speed off. As
we move down the first hill, all of my
fellowship immediately overtakes me.
I’m left at the back of the bunch. So I
guess perhaps I’m not Frodo after all,
but Sam.
The Breaking of
the Fellowship
The activity of snowmobiling turns
out to be surprisingly meditative. It’s
calming and soothing—like an adult
colouring book, but significantly less
lame. As the wind blows in your face, it
chills you, but the adrenaline (and the
hand warmers on the bike) keep you
warm and toasty. In the least cheesy
way possible, I felt at peace on the
snowmobile. I started to think about
my writing, my family, and a whole
host of other deep topics. I end the
first half of my ride with the decision
that this could be a real hobby for me.
After posing for some pictures, we
entered the second half of the ride.
Growing in confidence, I started to
forge my own path in the snow, jump-
ing the ‘mobile a bit. It was freeing—I
heard nothing but the buzz of the wind
and the laughter of my fellowship
around me. I felt at one with everyone.
But alas, all great voyages must
come to an end. Without having to
throw a ring into a live volcano or get
rescued by eagles, we hit the jeep and
make our bumpy way back to Gullfoss.
Our fellowship breaks up, invigorated
and smiling, into our respective rental
cars, to journey far away from this icy,
glacial land, and back to the well earned
of warm fires and second lunches.
BOOK YOUR FLIGHT OR
DAY TOUR AT AIRICELAND.IS
ÍSAFJÖRÐUR
ICELAND’S WESTFJORDS
ARE ONLY 40 MINUTES AWAY
Let’s fly
ÞÓRSHÖFN
VOPNAFJÖRÐUR
GRÍMSEY
ÍSAFJÖRÐUR
AKUREYRI
EGILSSTAÐIR
REYKJAVÍK
is
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21The Reykjavík Grapevine TRAVEL
“There is no life as far as the
eye can see, just mountains
and mountains of snow with
the occasional black speck of
snowmobile in the distance.
This glacier awes me. It dwarfs
me. I feel small”
Distance to Langjökull
160 km
Snowmobiling Tour provided by:
Arctic Adventures
www.adventures.is - Snowmobile.is