Reykjavík Grapevine - 13.09.2019, Blaðsíða 48

Summer is practically over.
That means that the mild
weather we’ve had will soon
be replaced by cold winds,
rain and, eventually, snow.
For residents of Iceland, the
long winter is traditionally
a harbinger of extended
stays indoors with books—
stories to keep them warm
while the rain, snow and
wind blusters about out-
side. In days of old, books
and stories were the prima-
ry source of recreation dur-
ing the dark winter months
(before the invention of
skis). Today, Iceland has
enough fantastic museums,
libraries, old churches, res-
taurants and research insti-
tutes to entertain anyone.
And of course, the brave
traveller may walk outside
in the wintry months to see
the beautiful landscape of
the country.
I am one such traveller.
I am a lifelong bibliophile,
and consider myself to be a
history buff. One of my fa-
vourite activities is curling
up with a good book during
a cold night. Having fully
embraced the dropping
mercury, I set out with my
favourite photographer,
Art, to explore the famed
Borgarfjörður. We started
in Reykholt.
Borgarfjörður is
for book lovers
Situated forty kilometres
north of Reykjavík, Reyk-
holt is a hub of cultural
history and the final rest-
ing place of renowned poet
and politician, Snorri Stur-
luson. The large building
that looks like a church also
functions as a museum, li-
brary, and institute of re-
search. Talk about a triple
threat.
When I went inside, I
saw walls and tables full
of books. I felt more than
welcome. Our guide, Sigrún
Guttormsdóttir, greeted us
warmly and gave us a brief
history about Snorri. The
man was a genius. While
Genghis Khan was invad-
ing China, Russia and Po-
land, Snorri was writing
the Eddic poems and Egill’s
Saga. While Francis of As-
sisi was founding the order
of mendicant monks, Snorri
was building himself a hot
tub—which is still there.
You can see it and even
touch the water, which is
still warm. But, trust me,
the museum directors get
very mad if you strip down
to bathe in it.
Snorri also constructed
a large fortress from mate-
rials imported from Nor-
way, to house his library
and residence. This was a
man who liked to enjoy life
and knew how to do it. He
was also a prolific writer, a
shrewd politician, and one
of the richest men in Iceland
at the time. If you want to
get the whole story of his
life—which I highly recom-
mend—you’ll have to visit
Reykholt and haveSigrún
show you around.
From the museum, we
went upstairs and visited
the church. A relatively new
structure, the church was
finished in 1996. Beautiful
stained glass windows loom
over the sanctuary, casting
the light of day over the
congregation, and chang-
ing colour depending on the
time of day and weather. A
500-year-old baptismal font
stands in front of an arte-
fact depicting the crucifix-
ion of Christ, which is just
as old as the font. The ped-
estal which holds the font
is much newer, and was a
gift from Norway to the in-
stitute, continuing Snorri’s
tradition of sourcing goods
from our Nordic cousins.
The institute conducted
excavations in 2008, which
unearthed the ruins of Snor-
ri’s house and the plumbing
which brought the water
from the hot springs to his
hot tub—plumbing which is
intact to this day. The ma-
terials for excavation were
(you guessed it) imported
from Norway. It seems they
are just as interested in the
history of a man with strong
connections to their nation
as Iceland is.
Try the meatballs
After the taxing mental
stimulation of Reykholt, our
bodies required sustenance.
At the nearby Brúarás cafe,
Art and I refuelled with a
cheeseburger and meat-
balls—two separate dishes,
though I would totally eat
cheeseburger meatballs—
that were very clearly served
with pride. The restaura-
teur runs a farm where she
sources her meat.
You don’t want to
miss these falls
To cap off the excitement
of the day, and to work off
those meals, we walked
around Hraunfossar and
Barnafoss. The name of the
latter translates to “water-
fall of the children,” and is
so named due to a tragedy
that occurred long ago. The
story is that two children
from a nearby farm were
playing around the falls
when they tried to cross the
natural bridge to the other
side. Sadly, they never made
it there. They fell into the
falls, prompting their griev-
ing mother to destroy the
bridge, and the falls have
been so named ever since.
Hraunfossar, on the other
hand, is a vast collection of
creeks that come together
and run down rocks that
have been formed by lava
flow. Hence its name, which
translates to “lava falls.”
As far as autumn, or
winter—hell, even spring
or summer—road trips go,
you can’t go wrong with a
drive to Borgarfjörður.
Distance
from Reykjavík:
67 km
How to get there:
Take route 49 east
until it becomes
Þjóðvegur 1, then
continue northeast
along that road
until you reach
Borgarfjörður.
Car provided by:
gocarrental.is
Medieval Scholars and
Hot Tub Enthusiasts
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48The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 16— 2019

Words: Sam O’Donnell Photos: Art Bicnick
A modern take on an ancient art
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