We were deeply disappointed when our heli-hike onto Franz Josef got aborted at the last minute due to developing poor conditions in New Zealand. So when I started looking into glacier hikes in Iceland, with its notoriously unpredictable weather, the foremost question I had for the tour operator was: what's the cancellation policy? The reaction I got was at first a little perplexed, and then slightly amused. She assured me that the trip is a go, like 98% of the time, summer or winter. At which point I realized I had just underestimated the Icelanders' ability to deal with... the ice.
About 2.5 hours south and east of Reykjavík lies Sólheimajökull. It is one of the glacier tongues of the larger ice cap covering the volcano Katla. Truly, one wonders if George R.R. Martin was thinking of Iceland when he came up with the phrase "A Song of Fire and Ice" ...and they do film Game of Thrones in the country. The landscape was full of postcard-like beauty. Underneath blue skies, the dark moraine deposited by the retreating glacier contrasted with the green, moss-covered ridges of the valley. The view was reflected perfectly in the still clarity of the lagoon formed from the melt waters.
We donned a very unflattering ensemble of safety gear - nothing like a climbing harness on top of snow pants to really make one's bottom look huge - to get onto the ice. It was my first time in crampons, and after a brief tutorial and a little practice, I was surprised at how secure the spiky additions to my boots made me feel on the treacherous ground. Maybe I should be wearing them all the time in the mountains! ...even if the wide stance and deliberate, lurching steps you adopt recall a knight in armor or a cowboy in spurs. We covered quite a bit of ground and altitude in them.
On top of the ice, the science of the place made it fascinating besides beautiful. Fairy light snowflakes compacted over hundreds and thousands of years to form the ice below us, the air forced out by the compression creating the strange blue ice color. Black volcanic cones and little peaks appear at intervals on the ice layer. These "witch hats" were created by a hole or depression with a tiny stone or fragment in the bottom. Over centuries, the little blockage diverted the flow of melt waters around it until nothing but compacted ash below it is left in a roughly conical shape. There was also evidence of man-made experiments on the ice. A couple of skeletal structures were set up as markers on the ice, where researchers could survey and measure the movement and conditions of the glacier. Sólheimajökull is retreating so rapidly (gee, thanks, global warming, you shouldn't have!) that you can actually watch it in time-lapse photography in the critically-acclaimed documentary Chasing Ice.
Another aspect of geology contributed to the sense of adventure on the hike. On this island where nature regularly trounces man, just as we were getting comfortable on the ice, we were reminded of our proximity to Eyjafjallajökull. Maybe that name rings a bell? (Probably not because Icelandic words are a jumble in your head and a gargle in your mouth.) Eyja was that volcano that erupted in 2010 whose devastation increased when the ash clouds got into the atmosphere and halted most of the air traffic to/from Europe for several weeks. On Sólheimajökull, it's the volcano next door. And Katla, on whose ice cap we were linked, is an even bigger volcano. Which historically erupts a few years after Eyja. On an order of several magnitudes greater. And one of the most likely routes of flash flooding (from the eruption liquefying the ice cap above it) was the glacier we were standing on! So... do you feel lucky, punk?
If that didn't give us enough of a thrill, we also took the opportunity to try out ice climbing. I still really love the idea of climbing, although in practice (indoors, on rock, in canyons, etc.), I am terrible at it. They showed us how to plant our feet (widely, with a hard kick to set the crampon into the ice) and how to use our ice axes (squared up, swinging for an existing depression or ledge to plant it). While my attempt was straight out of one of those "You're Doing It Wrong" articles, and my aching shoulders - bad technique - forced me to quit half the way up, I am married to a monkey. Rich was the first man up to the top! I was consoled by my successful, smooth rappel/abseil down. It's only taken me 4 or 5 times to get that trick. Woohoo!
About 2.5 hours south and east of Reykjavík lies Sólheimajökull. It is one of the glacier tongues of the larger ice cap covering the volcano Katla. Truly, one wonders if George R.R. Martin was thinking of Iceland when he came up with the phrase "A Song of Fire and Ice" ...and they do film Game of Thrones in the country. The landscape was full of postcard-like beauty. Underneath blue skies, the dark moraine deposited by the retreating glacier contrasted with the green, moss-covered ridges of the valley. The view was reflected perfectly in the still clarity of the lagoon formed from the melt waters.
We donned a very unflattering ensemble of safety gear - nothing like a climbing harness on top of snow pants to really make one's bottom look huge - to get onto the ice. It was my first time in crampons, and after a brief tutorial and a little practice, I was surprised at how secure the spiky additions to my boots made me feel on the treacherous ground. Maybe I should be wearing them all the time in the mountains! ...even if the wide stance and deliberate, lurching steps you adopt recall a knight in armor or a cowboy in spurs. We covered quite a bit of ground and altitude in them.
On top of the ice, the science of the place made it fascinating besides beautiful. Fairy light snowflakes compacted over hundreds and thousands of years to form the ice below us, the air forced out by the compression creating the strange blue ice color. Black volcanic cones and little peaks appear at intervals on the ice layer. These "witch hats" were created by a hole or depression with a tiny stone or fragment in the bottom. Over centuries, the little blockage diverted the flow of melt waters around it until nothing but compacted ash below it is left in a roughly conical shape. There was also evidence of man-made experiments on the ice. A couple of skeletal structures were set up as markers on the ice, where researchers could survey and measure the movement and conditions of the glacier. Sólheimajökull is retreating so rapidly (gee, thanks, global warming, you shouldn't have!) that you can actually watch it in time-lapse photography in the critically-acclaimed documentary Chasing Ice.
Another aspect of geology contributed to the sense of adventure on the hike. On this island where nature regularly trounces man, just as we were getting comfortable on the ice, we were reminded of our proximity to Eyjafjallajökull. Maybe that name rings a bell? (Probably not because Icelandic words are a jumble in your head and a gargle in your mouth.) Eyja was that volcano that erupted in 2010 whose devastation increased when the ash clouds got into the atmosphere and halted most of the air traffic to/from Europe for several weeks. On Sólheimajökull, it's the volcano next door. And Katla, on whose ice cap we were linked, is an even bigger volcano. Which historically erupts a few years after Eyja. On an order of several magnitudes greater. And one of the most likely routes of flash flooding (from the eruption liquefying the ice cap above it) was the glacier we were standing on! So... do you feel lucky, punk?
If that didn't give us enough of a thrill, we also took the opportunity to try out ice climbing. I still really love the idea of climbing, although in practice (indoors, on rock, in canyons, etc.), I am terrible at it. They showed us how to plant our feet (widely, with a hard kick to set the crampon into the ice) and how to use our ice axes (squared up, swinging for an existing depression or ledge to plant it). While my attempt was straight out of one of those "You're Doing It Wrong" articles, and my aching shoulders - bad technique - forced me to quit half the way up, I am married to a monkey. Rich was the first man up to the top! I was consoled by my successful, smooth rappel/abseil down. It's only taken me 4 or 5 times to get that trick. Woohoo!
