First stop, Iceland. Score between Icelandic bodies of water and me: 2 to 0.

Iceland was a perfect practice round for our travels: a good place to make some mistakes, work out the kinks, and still be awed and amazed at the new surroundings we were in.  Mistake one, getting a manual car when only one of us can drive it. You drive A LOT in Iceland. It’s one of the best ways to see the country, especially since it isn’t heavily populated at nearly 332,000 people. So public transit isn’t much, and unless you want to join a tour bus crowded with people and cameras, renting a car is the best way to go. First success, making sure that the car was fuel efficient, gas is around $7.50 a gallon. Filling the tank can bring a tear to your eye, especially if it is with the wrong gas, but I’ll let Oliver write about that…

In flying to Iceland we took the direct flight from Portland on Iceland Air, and why this detail is important is because it takes you over the North pole, and if the weather is right, it’s pretty spectacular. We took an “overnight” flight, and as we were going over the pole the sun was setting, but then suddenly instead of disappearing below the horizon line, it glanced off it and started rising again. Seeing a sunset and sunrise in one seems to me like a once in a lifetime 2-for deal, so just for that, the flight was amazing.

*Also, after spending 7 HOURS across from her on the flight, we finally realized when we landed we were sitting next to an old high school friend! We caught up for about 2 minutes, shivering in the wind and rain, before she and her travel buddy shot off through the airport to, we hope, catch their connection. The world is small.

Iceland has begun marketing heavily for tourism, and it is showing. Though I wouldn’t say it is “bustling” yet, if you stick to the classic sights, especially those along “The Golden Circle” – you will likely be in a steady flow of tour busses, boasting “Extreme Iceland” and other adventure soaked slogans. But most of the places along it, are worth it. At Thingvellir National Park you stand in a valley created slow shifting apart of the North American and Eurasian Tectonic plates. The North American one goes through the park, and the rock wall towers into the air, slow chinks being created in it as it inches further and further back.

This breath taking site is where the Viking parliament used to meet and where they created the first democracy. And it was here that we snorkeled the Silfra fissure, a fissure created by the separating of these plates. But this isn’t like the Warm River where the geothermal heat is rising up and creating a hot tub, this water is glacial runoff that takes 150 years to filter down through the layers of basalt to create this icy, crystal clear water. This is where I decided it would be a good time to learn to snorkel.

Oliver and I share many hobbies, but diving is not one of them, and I think if you asked him what interest he most wants me to pick up, it would be this one. I, on the other hand, am a weak swimmer and had never touched a snorkel, much less a dry suit. I have what I call a “healthy fear” of the water. So I figured snorkeling would be a good initial barrier to overcome. This was our only guided tour activity, as there is no other way to do it, and we think it’s debatable whether or not it’s worth the money. Likely not if you are doing it for underwater animal life, but definitely so if you want a unique experience. Unfortunately, we have no pictures of us actually snorkeling the fissure. We know this is a great deprivation to our friends and family because we looked awesome after donning first, underwater PJ’s as I call them, THEN a gumby-ish dry suit, complete with booties, and finally lobster hand gloves and wet-suit cap. We looked like pudgy, rubber penguins with squishy faces. The suit clung tight around my neck, like a small child not knowing how piggy back rides work (hold the shoulders small one, not the neck!). So I’m already uncomfortable when the attractive tour guide comes up and fastens a silicone band around my neck, to “seal” the suit. As he is fastening the clasps he drops “You don’t have a safe word do you?”. Bold joke in front of the husband, sir, but it did make us laugh.

I was surprisingly less anxious then I thought I would be. After sliding into the frigid, glacial water in a long line of waddling, rubber swaddled companions, we were looking into a world of vivid blue rocks, varying in depths but the blues growing more saturated and vibrant the deeper it went. My favorite part was when we went through what seemed to be a field of rocks covered with a long thing tendrils of a bright green plant, as if an eight year old went to town with bright green silly string on them. But I was still a little anxious, so I craned my neck lifting my head out of the water to make sure I was with the group. I was, but as soon as I dipped my head back in I felt an icy finger trickle down the zipper line of Pajama layer. Five minutes into our thirty minute snorkel trip, I managed to let the 36 degree water inside my suit. Thank god, while they don’t say they know this happens, they know this happens, and the suit also works like a wet suit. The water warmed and while I was chilly, and definitely not sweating like Oliver said I would, I was comfortable enough to finish the tour. In fact I wasn’t even that cold until I took fuzzy pajama layer off. God bless fuzzy pajama layer, I bet they make it out of wool from those fuzzy sheep, I want the fuzzy sheep.

The last full day of our trip we ventured out to finish the part of the Golden Circle we hadn’t completed on our first attempt, after we had to spend our evening at gas station waiting for a mechanic to fix Oliver’s mishap with the gas handles. We had two stops left:  Gullfoss Waterfall, the biggest waterfall in Iceland, and Geysir.

The drive to Gullfoss is completely unassuming. Its a high plateau of green low hills, stretching across the horizon, the only mountain far in the distance. But suddenly you cut down from the plateau into an expansive canyon and Gullfoss is before you, as epic as they say it is.

 

The first layer is cascading tiers spread across the vast expanse of the river, with a view point right on water level for those unafraid of the heavy mist. After that it appears the earth simply swallows the thunderous cascade of water. There is no way without some acrobatic skills, advanced camera tech, or a helicopter that you are getting a full picture, since most angles are cut off by the steep ravine the water has made in the earth below it.

Sights like these are what the word “awesome” was originally meant for. It holds you in utter awe at the magnitude and might of it. A young British boy jutted in front of us to see it, and turned back towards us, eyes filled with said awe, and gasped “Niagra!!” back to his mother. He was so full of joy and wonder I smiled a little to myself but definitely wasn’t going to be the one to correct him.

Iceland is a place the wowed us with how our earth works. Standing between two tectonic plates or watching pools of water boiling from the heat below the earth’s surface, you can’t help but be amazed by it and also gain greater respect for it.