Grouchy While Traveling is an inexcusable sin. There’s no crying in adventuring.
But if this blog is actually chronicling my days and not just sugar-coating life, I gots to be honest.
Day#11,401: I woke up grouchy.
Maybe it was Iceland’s midnight sun shooting laser beams of light past our flimsy hotel room curtains (and leading to some really whacky nightmares, I might add… Tim Burton wishes he had a portal into what was going on in there). Maybe it was the swarms of tourists that descended on the hotel breakfast room by the busload, laying waste to every edible square inch riiight before we made it in. Or maybe it was trying to shower in the airplane-bathroom-sized “shower corner” and getting completely twisted up in the steamy ‘Cling-Level: Saran Wrap’ shower curtains. (Somehow clean wasn’t exactly what I was feeling whilst unpeeling my mildewy shower-curtain body wrap.) Whatever the case- and without adequate excuse because despite these minor inconveniences, I was still… drum roll, please… in friggin’ ICELAND– I was grumpy.
Sometimes it happens.
At least my grumpy was tempered by excitement. Mr. M & I had plans to roadtrip across the southeastern coast of Iceland to Jökulsárlón, the legendary ice lagoon. As Mr. M informed me (he knows a good history lesson always cheers me up), it wasn’t until the 1970’s that engineers were even able to construct a paved road along the southern coast. The area is subject to unpredictable and violent flash floodwaters released from the nearby glaciers, which kept washing roadwork away. Any place that can’t be domesticated after more than a thousand years of occupation piques my interest.
Driving through the area was like traveling through the real life version of one of those Olde Tyme maps of far-off fantastical worlds. You know what I’m talking about. The tea-stained maps with lightly burnt, curled edges and each magical land labeled in sweeping calligraphy.
Iceland’s distinct ecosystems stretched on for miles only to stop without warning, immediately giving way to a new, more bizarre land to carry on the same pattern. As our radio lost all signal, Mr. M & I amused ourselves by naming these lands as we imagined tribal chiefs of yore did while riding their Icelandic horses to the annual parliament at Þingvellir. Expanses of black sand etched with icy rivulets became “The Barrens”… we had “Fields of Many Colors,” “The Great Rock”…
It’s hard to be irritable while naming imaginary fairytale lands.
Finally, oh, finally, we made it to the foot of Skaftafell National Park. Antsy to stretch our car-legs, Mr. M & I decided on a hike to see the Svartifoss waterfall.
The waterfall was beautiful, but much more intriguing were the basalt rock formations that flanked it, creating a backdrop reminiscent of a church pipe organ.
The insistent Iceland rain picked up just as we were headed back down the mountain trail, and our walk turned to a full gallop. It was still raining really hard when we reached the ice lagoon of Jökulsárlón. Like sprint-from-the-car-to-the-ticket-booth hard.
As the Breiðamerkurjokull (say that five times fast) glacier recedes back from the ocean, the Jökulsárlón lagoon grows in the icy space between.
In fact, the lagoon has quadrupled in size since in the past forty years, thankyouverymuch global warming. Huge icebergs calve from the glacier face and float through the lagoon until they’re released into the sea.
A zodiac boat tour seems the best way to appreciate the beauty of the ice lagoon, and despite the throngs of crowds, Mr. M were somehow lucky enough a zodiac and guide all to ourselves.
Because summer in Iceland is not actual summer (repeat: NOT SUMMER), we were suited up in heavy-duty waterproof jumpsuits to protect us from the freezing rain and whipping winds. Zooming across the silvery-mirror lagoon ended up being my very favorite moment in Iceland. We even got close enough to touch a few of the floating giants.
It. Was. Magical. Mr. M remarked on how gorgeous it would’ve looked on a sunny day, with every shade of blue imaginable reflecting off the ice.
Sitting so close to an iceberg that completely dwarfed our little boat was a good reminder that my sundry annoyances are miniscule at most. Clingy shower curtain? Get over yourself, the melting iceberg scolded me. And stop wasting time that could be spent enjoying this wonderful life. Truer words were never spoken by anthropomorphized ice.
As all of my fingers were white and had completely lost all feeling, our guide let me hunker down in the front of the zodiac for the wind-whipping ride back to shore.
SO much fun. Soaked and with no other dry clothes at the ready, I changed into my long john pajamas & flip flops in the gift store restroom, and Mr. M & I skipped through muddy puddles and ice back to the car.
As we settled into our bad-for-us roadtrip snacks (my personal favorite: an Icelandic Doritos flavor called “Cool American”- I’m pretty sure that translates to Cool Ranch, but it’s always nice when your snacks compliment you), we replayed just how magical the afternoon was.
Sometimes it’s hard to avoid grumpy.
But as an iceberg once reminded me, it sure is a waste of time.
To explore my next day’s adventures eating horse and nearly being blown off a puffin cliff, click here!
Tips on Avoiding a Grumpy Day in Iceland:
1. Bring appropriate clothing! Iceland has Weather. Not our weak-sauce American “weather.” Serious, beard-curdling weather. The smartest visitors I saw were wearing full raingear, complete with waterproof track pants. At the very least, bring a LOT of back-up clothing to change into when you inevitably get drenched.
2. Rent your own car. Iceland seems largely to be traveled by tourist bus, depositing huge groups at site after site. Driving in Iceland is easy enough (save for the occasional torrential downpour, ash sandstorm, and rogue sheep in the road)- rent your own car to avoid the swarms.
3. Bring CDs for your inevitable roadtripping. The further outside Reykjavik you get, the more distant and esoteric the radio stations. Not all rental cars have USB ports for iPods, and the alternative is a couple exasperating hours of Icelandic talk radio. Or… gasp… conversation with your loved ones. Noooo!!!
4. Know how to get gas. Iceland has a unique and curious system that requires you to use a debit or credit card with a PIN number. This is more common in European countries, but here in the U.S., we typically don’t use PIN numbers with our credit cards. Pop in your card at the pay stations adjacent to the pumps and select the kroner amount (a fair idea of the exchange rate will be necessary) that you’d like to pay. It’s hard to guess exactly how much it’ll take to fill up your tank, so start conservatively and revisit as necessary.
5. Remember that there are two different zodiac companies that operate within Jökulsárlón lagoon. I jumped the gun and had Mr. M swerve into the first parking lot we saw… and learned that the next tour was 3hrs later. The company just across the river had (cheaper) openings with less than half the wait.
**This post is dedicated to my beautiful godmother, who passed away last night after a battle with cancer. She was one of the most adventurous women I knew, a courageous role model, and NEVER one to let a bad mood get her down. The world that she loved so much will miss her.**
interesting and informative - thanks !
Thank *you* for stopping by! I'm really glad you found it interesting! :)
Again...I love your posts! Thanks so much! And wonderful dedication, truly sorry for your loss....
That is so very sweet... and I really do appreciate your sentiments! Despite the sadness of losing my godmama, I feel so lucky to have had her in my life! So blessed. Thanks again for your comment, Jenn. :)
I"m so sorry for your loss. Cancer sucks! Ugh. What a great way to honor her. This post is pretty epic!! I got to see a tiny iceberg, but nothing like this! Amazing! that waterfall (have we discussed that waterfalls are my favorite? I feel like we have.) is AWESOME. I just have no words! Glad you were able to take the iceberg's advice and stop being such a grumpy cat!!! Also, how did you not bring rain gear? I remembered mine for Alaska ;) It rained the whole time we were there :/
Cancer does suck! I couldn't have said it any better. Ha, I *do* know that you love waterfalls and now think of you whenever I post a picture of one. You've gotten into my head! Soo... I actually do not own anything that's 100% waterproof! I did bring my "rain jacket," and Iceland laughed in its face. It's technically water-resistant, and it lasted about 3 minutes in the torrential downpours before being soaked. Oops. I'm glad you were better prepared than I! (At least after you & Trinity got your hiking boots from the airline...)
My work here is done, then ;) hahaha. Dinosaurs and waterfalls. That's what I want people to think of when they think of me! Yeah, the hiking boots helped a lot. They protected from the weather a lot better than the flippies. Although I killed my boots on my epic hike on day 4. Instead of buying new ones (prices up there are CRAZY!) I duct taped them! Luckily it wasn't torrentially downpouring in AK, just drizzling here and there. There was one time when it was pouring, but we just stayed in, drank Alaskan beer, and played cards ;)
Please tell me there are pictures of you in your duct-tape hiking boots that will surface in future trip report posts. While I'm sure it was just a spot-fix, I can't seem to shake an image of fully-wrapped, silvery moon boots. That would be AWESOMELY hardcore. Way better than pricey new hiking boots. ;)
I do not have any! I wish I would've taken one... they weren't all covered, but we just basically wrapped the tape around the front part, from the start of my toes to my arch, if that makes sense. It was enough to be embarrassing, but I rocked it.
Although... now I want silver moon boots.
Hey Miranda. The neat looking rock formation is called "columnar jointing" (as in columns). And actually, it's caused by rapid cooling, not slow cooling. As with most scientific questions, there are a couple of opinions. But the most popular is that the basalt cools quickly, and the shrinkage causes hexagonal cracks to form. As the it continues to cool, the cracks carry on downward. You can also see columnar jointing in the West and NW of the US. It's isn't that common, and it's pretty cool to see. ~James
Thank you, James! It's best if I don't attempt any geology without adult supervision. :) Mr. M & I needed you to play Geologist Tour Guide on our trip! Whatever the cause, the columnar jointing was quite beautiful to see up close. Now that you mention it, I think I may have seen similar formations at Devil's Postpile, near Mammoth in California. Really fascinating. Thank you again for the much-needed info!
I just love your posts! Were you prepared with your own waterproof jumpsuits or were they provided? Just curious, because I know I own nothing of the sort. I would be very under-prepared for a trip to Iceland - which, by the way, is on my list of places to go thanks to you! Please tell me there was at least a Bjork song or two on the local radio stations... ;-)
Aww, thank you so much! That brought a smile to my face. :) Considering I didn't even make it to Iceland with a real waterproof jacket (oops!), it's a very good thing that the zodiac boat tour provided us with Serious Jumpsuits! They were supposed to be waterproof, but Mr. M & I both beg to differ. :) Our pants were completely soaked by the time we got back. At least we looked hardcore. (You know, I was *waiting* for Bjork the whole time we were road-tripping, and... nothing! On the upside, I did come away with a few new Icelandic music favorites!)
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