It’s been two weeks since the April 14 eruption of the volcano Ejyafallajökull. By now, most delayed and inconvenienced travelers have found their way home and the world’s press has departed to cover the Gulf of Mexico oil spill. Here in Iceland the cleanup is just beginning.
Once we were innocent
On April 13th, the skies here in Iceland were blue and summer was imminent. My new husband and I were taking a road trip with some international visitors who had flown in for our April 10th wedding. The mood was tense as we packed the car with snacks and road-tunes – they wanted to be back in time for a good night’s sleep before flying home from Iceland the following day.
Me at at Jökulsárlón (glacial lake) the day before the volcano erupted
We reassured them with the news that they were about to see some of the most awe-inspiring country on earth. It was worth a late night.
The southern coast that day was prettier than I’d ever seen it. After stopping for lunch at Vík we took advantage of the cloudless sky, walking off the Kjötsúpa along the black sands. Seljalandsfoss gushed happily for our photos. Cars rusted proudly on ancient farms. Icelandic horses showed off their fancy fifth-gait alongside Highway 1. Our time-conscious guests began to enjoy the journey instead of worrying about when we’d reach the destination.
We’ll return later this week… or not
We arrived at Jökulsárlón by mid-afternoon only to discover that the amphibious boat we’d been promised was, bizarrely, only operational during the month of September. A blessing in disguise, really. Instead of the roar of a diesel engine, all we heard was the gentle bump and squeak of giant glacial offcuts as they bobbed in their frozen salty cocktail.
With Vatnajökull looming in the background and seabirds lolling about on icy pontoons, we just wandered and stared. It was hushed and majestic and utterly breathtaking.
Then we started the long journey back, which was hurried due to the renewed time concerns of our passengers. We scrapped plans to stop for a twilight dip in Seljavallalaug, my favourite secret pool nestled on a verdant hillside. Oh well, I thought to myself. I’ll return later in the week with our more adventurous guests.
Or not.
Ejyafallajökull blows its stack
Overnight the volcano erupted. Melting its glacial covering, the eruption triggered flash floods cutting Highway 1 in several places, and triggering the now infamous ash-cloud that paralysed air travel world-wide.
Seljavallalaug- Drowning in ash
A fast-thinking farmer used an excavator to carve several channels through the road to relieve the pressure of the deluge, preventing one of the bigger bridges on Highway 1 from being washed away entirely. Regardless of this, the whole region was evacuated and any poor traveler caught on the wrong side of the action was forced to travel back to Reykjavik the long way – circumnavigating the entire country on its solitary ring-road.
We had made it home mere hours before the drama began. And our visitors were safely on their planes before the ash could disrupt flights.
There was a buzz in Reykjavik for the next few days as locals showed off their photographs and amateur footage. We partied with travelers whose holidays were unexpectedly and happily extended. We joked, with just the slightest hint of anxiety, about what we’d do if neighbouring Katla went off as well.
But beneath the excitement, there was an undeniable gloom. Pictures surfaced of deathly, blanketed landscapes. Stories filtered in of horses being led to slaughter because the land on which they grazed was now so much useless mud and ash. This was not a story just about inconvenienced holiday-makers and lost airline revenue. We were watching the death of a great natural beauty.
Not our fault
Reactions outside of Iceland were interesting to observe. There was a clear undercurrent in the some of the world’s press, particularly the lower-brow English publications, suggesting that the volcano was some sort of willful act on the part of the Icelandic people. A final, brutal gesticulation of defiance in the wake of the 2008 Icesave debacle (if you don’t know what this is, count yourself and your bank account lucky).
Which of course is ridiculous. Iceland is no more responsible for the eruption of its volcano than the people of Indonesia were for the 2004 tsunami!
One piece of news footage stood out for me. As a Sky News reporter interviewed weary travelers inconvenienced by a flight cancellation, a drunk Scotsman interrupted to contribute his opinion in a thick Scottish brogue: “Aye haaaayyyte Asslund. Aye haaaayyyte Asslund!” before lumbering away, presumably for another early morning beer.
My friends and I emailed this clip to each other, laughing at its stupidity. But beneath our blithe dismissal, there was a sense of concern that this is how many people out there feel.
There is an atmosphere of survivors’ guilt in Reykjavik. City life carries on here just as it did before the eruption. The biggest effect this disaster has had on my routine was that a handful of my wedding guests were marooned with us a week or so longer than they expected. Which, all things considered, was a rather happy turn of events.
Iceland is drowning in ash
But long after the rest of the world moved on, the heartbreaking images continue to fill our local press.
The one that brought tears to my eyes was of Julia Staples’ picture of Seljavallalaug drowning in ash. This place, once crackling with natural beauty, is now a bowl of ashy sludge, set in a post-apocalyptic nightmare. I don’t know how long the land needs to recover from something like this. Perhaps it will spring to life in a year or two. Perhaps the images of me and my friends bobbing in this magical heated pool hidden on a verdant hillside will be something I show my children. The stuff of happy memories.
Seljavallalaug – ash everywhere, courtesy Julia Staples
With summer officially here, Icelanders are talking about which far-off corners and one-horse towns they will be visiting in the coming months. The anticipation feels different to years past; it’s fuelled by a sense of renewed appreciation for the beauty on our doorstep. A need to see it all before it’s gone.
I know many of you lost precious money and time during your disrupted travels of recent weeks. If you can, try to redirect your annoyance towards activity. Take a trip to somewhere you’ve wanted to see for years but have put off, assuming that it will always be there. Because it just might not.
-Maggie Rays
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Source: Scott Mc
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