Day 3 - Þingvellir and Vik

Today we left the comforts of Reykjavik and began our three-day tour of natural Iceland. We traveled via Highway 1, Iceland's first highway. We began at Þingvellir (pronounced Thingvellir), the original meeting place of the vikings, also believed to be the first Parliament. 

Þingvellir is a giant rift in the rock surface where the North American and European tectonic plates meet. 

The vikings would meet on the grass in between these two giant stone walls. The acoustic properties of the stone is such that the sound echoes and a single voice can be heard a great distance by many people. 

On the other side of the rift, an expansive valley spread beyond, far into the distance. Across the river is the summer home of the Icelandic Prime Minister (the five-peaked house in the image below). Although we weren't allowed inside, we were able to walk right up to the door and all around the grounds, most likely because the Prime Minister wasn't in residence. There was hardly any security to speak of, in spite of the fact that the entire area is an important Icelandic and Scandinavian heritage site. We were able to walk around quite liberally, which was a refreshing change from the often stifling controls experienced at heritage sites in America.

Our challenge as students was to draw a section of the landscape, just by looking at what we see. I did some sketches, not entirely willing to commit to a single image. By figuring out proportions of heights, I drew more accurately.

I also tried out my watercolors (my secondary medium) today. I painted part of the valley with the Prime Minister's summer home and the church, the river in front and the mountains beyond.

After Þingvellir, we headed for Vik, our destination for the evening. On the way, we stopped at an enormous waterfall (whose name escapes me). It was remarkably beautiful in its sheer size. The thundering water and enveloping mist spray overwhelms the senses and feels otherworldly. The water flows over rocks and cliffs that change direction, causing the river to wind in a particularly intriguing way. The river continues between two grass and moss-covered clifs.

Much about rural Iceland screams Lord of the Rings. The landscape here is a bit harsher, but I can imagine this place inspiring a similarly epic viking adventure tale. It's no surprise that the word "saga" derives from Iceland.

As we headed to our final destination for the evening, we drove through an ash cloud remnant from the eruption of Eyjafjallajökull. At first just a minor inconvenience, like a light fog, our visibility slowly wore away to almost nothing. Staring out the window at this:

and then, finally, nothing at all, I understood that although the volcano may have finished erupting, Iceland still experienced reminders of its harshness and brutality. We drove through the cloud with all of the bus' ventilation ports closed, rendering the air conditioning unusable and inspiring more respect for those Icelanders who endure the hardship.

Finally, we broke through the ash cloud and arrived in Vik, at the base of the volcano Katla. Our hotel was still under construction and the smell of fresh-cut wood pervaded the interior. Just a short walk across the street was a black sand beach. I had never seen one before in my life. I've been to many beaches, and this one was no different.  The water, the sand, the breeze from the ocean, organic debris on the sand, these were all things I knew to be significant of beaches.  But the sand itself was jet-black, and this simple difference caused me to question the validity of my surroundings.

After dinner, a few of us took a walk around the town with some curious discoveries. But, I will have to elaborate later. Bye for now!