Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.01.2018, Blaðsíða 46

Travel
Just over 370 kilometres from
Reykjavik, in the far southeast
corner of the country, you’ll find
the Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon.
This particular lake—Iceland’s
deepest, in fact, at a depth of
around 250 metres—is considered
to be amongst one of the crown
jewels of Icelandic nature. It’s easy
to see why; calm and dreamy, the
lagoon has the backdrop of jut-
ting, angular Vatnajökull glaciers,
and is liberally decorated by shin-
ing blue and white icebergs,
all reaching upwards
against the serene,
m o u n t a i n o u s
surroundings.
Jökulsár-
lón also sits
next to the
s o - c a l l e d
‘d i a m on d
b e a c h’: a
m a j e s t i c ,
Tim Burton-
esque black
sand shoreline,
which owes the
basalt-rich ground
for its unusual colour-
ing, and the glittering chunks
of ice studding its length for its
moniker. Once upon a time, the
sea spilled into a river, travelling
along for around 1.5 kilometres
before opening up into the lagoon.
But as the glaciers melted, Jökul-
sárlón grew, and now the beach
and the lake sit right next to each
other in one surreal, Swarovski-
bedazzled landmark.
Change of scenery
The journey from Reykjavík to
Jökulsárlón is a long trip to make
in a day, clocking in at around
five hours each way. We set off for
the south at the end of Novem-
ber when the days are short, with
the sun rising around ten in the
morning and setting around
four. To make it to
Jökulsárlón during
the few hours of
daylight, our
guide warns
us that we’ll
be raci ng
against the
clo ck . S o
we set off
f r o m t h e
BSÍ bus ter-
minal in the
pitch black ear-
ly morning, sleepy
and bleary-eyed.
After two hours the sun
finally begins to peek over the ho-
rizon, adding a cool glow to the
frosty November landscapes. The
last time I travelled these roads
it was in the summertime, and
the different season has given
the scenery a brand new look.
Lush green fields have been
transformed into shining white
stretches, and the omnipres-
ent moss covering the lava fields
now boasts a glittering blanket of
snow. Where delicate waterfalls
once cascaded down grass-topped
cliffs, frosty stalagmites have
formed, stuck fast against the
rock faces. These frozen water-
falls, with their sharply pointed
fingers of ice, provide a stark—but
equally beautiful—contrast to the
flowing energy of the summer.
Winter wonderland
On the way we make a quick stop
at Skógafoss, one of the country’s
largest waterfalls, with its expan-
sive 15 metre width and 60 metre
t drop. It’s bitterly cold as we ap-
proach the mammoth column of
water that thunders down amidst
the ice-encased cliffs casting
plumes of misty spray up against
the wintry walls.
I peer at the crystallised preci-
pices, noting the different pat-
terns that emerge; the frozen
spray hitting the cliff has created
a swirling pattern, and the liquid
dripping downwards forms hun-
dreds of spindly, entwined icicles.
As I consider going up the steps
to see the view from the top, our
guide calls us back to the bus to
continue our race against the sun.
The glacier lagoon
Finally, after four more hours of
driving, we peel off Route One
to Jökulsárlón and pick our way
carefully across to the edge of the
lagoon. As with anything created
naturally, you never really know
what you’ll find, and the scattered
icebergs make the lake look very
different from day to day, and even
from moment to moment. This
time, we’re greeted by a vast array
of huge, hulking, jagged chunks,
sharply shaped and coloured a
pure, translucent blue, as if made
of stained glass.
A smattering of smaller ice
fragments orbit outwards, some
dusted with a film of smoky grey
ash, their images mirrored on the
lake beneath. There must be over
one hundred icebergs in to-
tal, stretching all the
way back to the
serene, snow y
m o u n t a i n s .
T h e w a t e r
is perfectly
st i l l , and
as the sun
b e g i n s
t o s e t ,
t he w a n-
i n g l i g h t
b o u n c e s
f r o m t h e
w h it e p e a k s ,
adding a touch of
warmth to an other-
wise cool and wintry colour
palette.
Natural treasures
We cross the road to the beach
and crunch over the black sand,
admiring the strange, glassy
blobs of ice marooned on the
shore. Unlike the icebergs bob-
bing on the lagoon, the incoming
tides on the beach have left these
stranded chunks polished, shiny
and crystal clear—the “diamond
beach” moniker is well earned.
By now, the sun is dipping lower
in the burnt pink and orange sky.
Despite the earlier worries about
missing the narrow win-
dow of daylight, the
dusk light pouring
over the mono-
chrome black
b e a c h a n d
its icy trea-
sures turns
out to be
p e r f e c t l y
b e a ut i f u l
after all.
We l in-
g e r f o r a
while, watch-
ing the tide ebb
and flow over the
icy diamonds, wash-
ing them clean of gritty
dark sand. But it’s so cold that
my hands are almost completely
numb, even in my thick Icelandic
wool gloves. We managed to beat
the early sunset, but now the dark-
ness is encroaching, and it’s time
to turn our backs on this strange
vista and head back home.
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Race
Against
The Sun
A trove of icy diamonds at
the Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon
Words: Charley Ward Photos: Art Bicnick
Trip provided by: Reykjavik Excursions, re.is
Distance from Reykjavík: 370 km
How to get there: Route One South, all the way
“As
the glaciers
melted, Jökulsár-
lón grew, and now
the beach and the lake
are one conjoined,
surreal, Swarovski-
bedazzled land-
mark.”
A beach strewn with ancient iceberg fragments at Jökulsárlón
Skógafoss is majestic and shrouded with icicles during winter
46The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 01 — 2018