Atlantica - 01.05.2007, Blaðsíða 70

I veer right off the track, squinting my eyes
through my fogged-up sunglasses. The prob-
lem is I can’t see the tracks or the snow-
mobile in front that our guide Benni has
instructed us to follow. In fact, I’m surrounded by
an expanse of white plateaus, hills and an overcast
sky, and struggle to make out anything beyond
the black pointed ski tips at the front of my snow-
mobile – let alone the group somewhere in front
of me. The poor visibility combined with the
uniform illumination from the snow, plus the low
cloud cover, leaves any features of the landscape
indistinguishable. The horizon is missing. “So, this
is what it feels like to experience a white-out,” I
think to myself.
I can’t take off the sunglasses, which are surely
exacerbating my already poor visibility, without
first removing my tightly fastened helmet and
balaclava. And forget any depth judgment. For all
I know, continuing right means tumbling down a
steep drop. I can’t see the track in front until I’m
actually on it – or in this case off it. But, thank-
fully, as I wait for the second half of the group
that’s trailing to catch up, the track comes back
into view.
The skies are blue and the sun unusually bright.
The forecast looks promising as we head out
of Reykjavík along the scenic route towards the
Mýrdalsjökull glacier in southern Iceland one late
spring morning. The two-and-a-half hour journey
takes us past pastel-colored paddocks of horses,
lambs and cows grazing in the unusually bright
sun.
When we arrive at the base of the mountain,
Andrína Gudrún Erlingsdóttir is standing outside
her farmhouse. The building also moonlights as
the office for Arcanum Adventure Tours, which
she and her husband Benedikt “Benni” Bragason
own.
In our Jeep, we follow the sometimes steep and
bumpy road to the mountain hut from where the
tours depart. On arrival at the hut, which stands
on the edge of Mýrdalsjökull, Benni is clearing
the masses of snow from the makeshift parking
lot in preparation for the arrival of the first group
of the day.
Upon entering the small wooden hut we meet
Jeppe Frosch, the newly recruited tour guide as-
sistant. The tall 30-year-old Dane explains that
he’s in Iceland for a three-month stint to work
for Benni. Jeppe tells me that prior to arriving at
the hut three weeks ago, he had never straddled a
snowmobile. “I’ve grown up skiing and have spent
a lot of time on the slopes, though,” he assures
me. His job means living full-time in the isolated
mountain hut. I ask him how he entertains him-
self on a glacier. “I do get lonely sometimes,” he
confides. “I have a DVD player... sometimes I go
for a walk. With the maintenance of the snow-
mobiles and four tours a day, there’s also plenty
of work to do.”
Considerable effort is needed to put on all the
required clothing: a pair of bulky red full-length
thermal overalls, gloves, heavy-duty snow boots, a
bright purple balaclava, helmet, and the optional,
but recommended, sunglasses. The group of pre-
dominantly middle-aged British women stumble
in and out of balance as they try to suit up for
the just-below-zero temperatures outside. I am
comforted by the obvious fact that I’m not the
only first-timer.
Eager to get underway, we head outside to
where the snowmobiles are parked with their en-
gines running, to listen to Benni’s operation and
safety instructions. Benni, whose fifteen years in
the business have left him with a glowing sun- and
windburned face, explains what to do if we get
lost: “Stop and we’ll find you – you won’t find any-
thing,” he warns, triggering an eruption of laugh-
ter. (He is, however, sure to stress the unlikelihood
of this occurring, given that we are to follow him
and will have a guide trailing us).
Nevertheless, the prospect of actually having to
confront my fear of driving one of these machines
is not especially appealing. So, when I find out
that everyone is to be paired up except me (Benni’s
reasoning being that the photographer and I need
more freedom) I panic. Before I even have time to
conjure up a decent excuse for chickening out I
hit the accelerator and follow Benni and the rest
of the group up the hill. Even at 20 km/hour, fear
quickly turns to adrenaline. This isn’t so bad.
Seconds later someone veers off the track and
gets stuck. “Do I lean in or away from the turn?”
iceland a
Riding on Mýrdalsjökull glacier, Sólheimajökull glacier beneath.
A T L A N T I C A 69