Reykjavík Grapevine - 03.02.2017, Síða 56

The tiny propellor plane descends
into the clouds, buffeted by the
ferocious wind. Along with my
twelve or so fellow passengers,
I’m jolted left and right as a tiny
sea stack appears in the round
window through a blanket of fog.
A small island appears soon af-
ter—little more than a dramatic
slope, really, its heart scooped out
over time by the elements. An-
other follows, with a single white
house perched improbably in its
centre. The plane swoops past
several more small islets, close-
ly skirting a large moss-green
mountain before thumping onto
the short runway and jamming on
the brakes.
I emerge into a fresh winter
morning and immediately feel the
bite of a stiff sea breeze. The tall,
blackened, conspicuously volcanic
cone of Helgafell towers over the
tiny airport, silhouetted against
the choppy ocean. The lights of the
town are dimly visible through a
light mist, cradled by tall green
hills. Despite being just a twenty-
minute flight from Reykjavík,
landing on Heimaey—the largest
of the eleven isles and four skerries
that make up the Vestmannaeyjar
archipelago—feels like stepping
out of Iceland completely.
The road
There are no taxis at the tiny air-
port, but one shows up in min-
utes. The diminutive size of the
island quickly becomes appar-
ent—there’s really just one gently
curving 5km road that runs from
shore to shore. We coast into the
town’s quiet streets, passing a
hotel, a supermarket, a football
ground, and a couple of clothing
stores, cafés, and crafts boutiques
before arriving at our home for
the next two nights.
The house’s chipped red-paint-
ed exterior, emblazoned with year
1911, is only half of its story. In-
side the small, creaky doorway, the
building has been renovated into
a luxurious rental home. Its three
floors hold a well-equipped kitch-
en and dining area, three plushly
furnished lounges with Kjarval
sketches adorning their grey wood-
en walls, a spacious bathroom with
a large tub, and all kinds of tasteful,
homely touches. The harbour and
surrounding mountains are visible
on all sides. A humble fisherman’s
cottage, it isn’t.
Troll stalking
After chatting with the owner of
the cosy local health food café,
Gott, it becomes apparent that it’s
the evening of advent, when the
whole island celebrates the end of
Christmas. We’re told that elves
and trolls will descend from the
mountains to commune with the
people of the town.
I set out just after dark, fol-
lowing the sound of some nearby
music. The streets are completely
empty, and the strong wind makes
it seem like the source of the sound
is shifting around. But after a few
minutes of wandering, five tall
trolls stride silently from a side
street. They pass by without notic-
ing me—a gang of towering, eight-
foot-tall beings with red, glowing
eyes set in their gnarled faces. One
sports a top hat and a walking cane;
another has a face set in a perma-
nent scream with a white light
emitting from its deep gullet.
The trolls make their way to
the town’s central square, where
a throng has gathered around a
bonfire in a roped-off field. As
they circle the area, a f latbed
truck pulls up carrying twenty or
thirty more of these hulking, fur-
ry beings, who slowly descend the
walkway and shamble off into the
gleeful crowd. Fireworks explode
overhead, bathing the square
in colourful light, and buckets
of gasoline are thrown onto the
fire, sending clouds of thick black
smoke over the monstrous cele-
bration. A sole grey-bearded San-
ta wanders through the melee. It’s
a surreal and creative mash-up of
old and new Christmas folklore.
Fire mountain
The following morning, we pull
on some rain clothes and head
for the hulking red volcanic cone
that stands overlooking the town.
Eldfell became one of the most fa-
mous volcanoes in the world when
it erupted suddenly and unex-
pectedly in 1973. The large-scale
eruption forced an immediate
evacuation of the island, engulf-
ing part of the town with a wall
of molten lava that almost sealed
the harbour, and ultimately added
2.5km² of new land to Heimaey.
The path starts behind the El-
dheimar volcano museum, skirt-
ing over some rough grassland be-
fore evolving into an ash-grey trail
that winds its way to the foot of the
mountain. We crunch slowly up the
spine of the volcano over bright red,
orange, white and maroon volcanic
rocks. After forty minutes of easy
uphill hiking the crest approaches,
crowned with strange, sculptural
lava formations that jut up from
the bright soil.
From this vantage point, the
smaller Westman Islands are
visible on all sides, petering out
into the mist. The view down to
the shore of the island reveals a
dramatic meeting point between
the red volcanic soil of Eldfell, the
green fields of the old island, and
the sprawling black Nýja Hraun
lava field. In the distance, the
mountains of mainland Iceland’s
south coast curve gracefully into
the steely sea.
The black maze
After descending the back of the
volcano down a steep scree slope,
we wander into the tangled net-
work of trails over the lava field.
One side of the Eldfell cone broke
off during the eruption, separat-
ing into huge pieces as it travelled
over the molten lava flow. Today,
the fragments stand irregularly
scattered over the gnarled black
and grey rock formations. Some
are the size of a 4x4, and others
jut from the ground like natural
cathedrals.
The people of Vestmannaeyjar
have used the new land in various
ways. There’s a road that threads
through the lava field, passing
various viewpoints, tucked-away
industrial areas, and a small gar-
den with pagodas and miniature
wooden houses. As we circle back
towards the town, we pass sign-
posts that indicate we’re walking
over buried streets that now lie
silent, twenty metres below the
ground.
If this sparsely populated coun-
try sometimes feels like a world
within a world, exploring the
vivid volcanic landscape of Vest-
mannaeyjar feels like being on
the inside of a fantastical snow-
globe. Tiny as it is, Heimaey is a
memorable and beautiful pocket
of southern Icelandic nature.
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The miniature world
of Vestmannaeyjar
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 02 — 2017
54
Volcano Island
Words & Photos JOHN ROGERS
Distance from
Reykjavík
144 km
Flight provided by
eagleair.is
Book the house via
Airbnb: gpv.is/airbnb
How to get there
Fly from Reykjavík Domestic Airport, or drive Route One South,
and take the Baldur ferry from Landeyjarhöfn.