A Barren Land

We had started under a sky overcast but calm. There was no fear of heat, none of disastrous rain. It was just the weather for tourists.

We set out under a cloudy but calm sky. There was no danger of heat or disastrous rain. It was perfect weather for tourists.

The pleasure of riding on horseback over an unknown country made me easy to be pleased at our first start. I threw myself wholly into the pleasure of the trip, and enjoyed the feeling of freedom and satisfied desire. I was beginning to take a real share in the enterprise.

The pleasure of riding through unfamiliar country made me easy to please when we first set out. I gave myself over to the pleasure of the trip and enjoyed the freedom and the satisfaction of having my wish fulfilled. I was beginning to feel truly involved in the venture.

"Besides," I said to myself, "where's the risk? Here we are travelling all through a most interesting country! We are about to climb a very remarkable mountain; at the worst we are going to scramble down an extinct crater. It is evident that Saknussemm did nothing more than this. As for a passage leading to the centre of the globe, it is mere rubbish! perfectly impossible! Very well, then; let us get all the good we can out of this expedition, and don't let us haggle about the chances."

"Besides," I said to myself, "what's the risk? We're traveling through a fascinating country! We're about to climb a remarkable mountain. At worst, we'll scramble down into an extinct crater. Clearly, that's all Saknussemm did. As for a passage leading to the center of the globe, that's nonsense! It's completely impossible! All right, then. Let's get everything we can out of this expedition and not worry about the risks."

This reasoning having settled my mind, we got out of Rejkiavik.

This reasoning put my mind at ease, and we left Rejkiavik.

Hans moved steadily on, keeping ahead of us at an even, smooth, and rapid pace. The baggage horses followed him without giving any trouble. Then came my uncle and myself, looking not so very ill-mounted on our small but hardy animals.

Hans moved steadily ahead of us at a smooth, even, rapid pace. The baggage horses followed him without any trouble. My uncle and I came next, looking reasonably well mounted on our small but hardy animals.

Iceland is one of the largest islands in Europe. Its surface is 14,000 square miles, and it contains but 16,000 inhabitants. Geographers have divided it into four quarters, and we were crossing diagonally the south-west quarter, called the 'Sudvester Fjordungr.'

Iceland is one of the largest islands in Europe. It covers 14,000 square miles and has only 16,000 inhabitants. Geographers have divided it into four quarters. We were crossing the southwest quarter diagonally. It is called the 'Sudvester Fjordungr.'

On leaving Rejkiavik Hans took us by the seashore. We passed lean pastures which were trying very hard, but in vain, to look green; yellow came out best. The rugged peaks of the trachyte rocks presented faint outlines on the eastern horizon; at times a few patches of snow, concentrating the vague light, glittered upon the slopes of the distant mountains; certain peaks, boldly uprising, passed through the grey clouds, and reappeared above the moving mists, like breakers emerging in the heavens.

As we left Rejkiavik, Hans led us along the seashore. We passed sparse pastures that tried very hard to look green, but in vain. Yellow was the color that showed best. The rugged peaks of the trachyte rocks were faintly outlined on the eastern horizon. Now and then, patches of snow caught the dim light and glittered on the distant mountain slopes. Some peaks rose boldly through the grey clouds and reappeared above the drifting mist, like breakers emerging in the sky.

Often these chains of barren rocks made a dip towards the sea, and encroached upon the scanty pasturage: but there was always enough room to pass. Besides, our horses instinctively chose the easiest places without ever slackening their pace. My uncle was refused even the satisfaction of stirring up his beast with whip or voice. He had no excuse for being impatient. I could not help smiling to see so tall a man on so small a pony, and as his long legs nearly touched the ground he looked like a six-legged centaur.

These chains of bare rocks often dipped toward the sea and spread into the sparse pasture. But there was always enough room to pass. Besides, our horses instinctively chose the easiest routes without ever slowing down. My uncle did not even get the satisfaction of urging his horse on with his whip or his voice. He had no excuse to be impatient. I could not help smiling at the sight of such a tall man on such a small pony. His long legs nearly touched the ground, making him look like a six-legged centaur.

"Good horse! good horse!" he kept saying. "You will see, Axel, that there is no more sagacious animal than the Icelandic horse. He is stopped by neither snow, nor storm, nor impassable roads, nor rocks, glaciers, or anything. He is courageous, sober, and surefooted. He never makes a false step, never shies. If there is a river or fiord to cross (and we shall meet with many) you will see him plunge in at once, just as if he were amphibious, and gain the opposite bank. But we must not hurry him; we must let him have his way, and we shall get on at the rate of thirty miles a day."

"Good horse! Good horse!" he kept saying. "You will see, Axel, that no animal is wiser than the Icelandic horse. Snow, storms, impassable roads, rocks, glaciers, nothing can stop him. He is brave, moderate in his needs, and surefooted. He never takes a wrong step or shies away. If there is a river or fjord to cross, you will see him plunge right in, as if he were amphibious. He will reach the opposite bank. And we shall come across many rivers and fjords. But we must not hurry him. We must let him go at his own pace, and we shall travel thirty miles a day."

"We may; but how about our guide?"

"We may, but what about our guide?"

"Oh, never mind him. People like him get over the ground without a thought. There is so little action in this man that he will never get tired; and besides, if he wants it, he shall have my horse. I shall get cramped if I don't have a little action. The arms are all right, but the legs want exercise."

"Oh, never mind him. People like him cover ground without thinking about it. He moves so little that he'll never get tired. Besides, if he wants my horse, he can have it. I'll get cramped if I don't move around a little. My arms are fine, but my legs need exercise."

We were advancing at a rapid pace. The country was already almost a desert. Here and there was a lonely farm, called a boër built either of wood, or of sods, or of pieces of lava, looking like a poor beggar by the wayside. These ruinous huts seemed to solicit charity from passers-by; and on very small provocation we should have given alms for the relief of the poor inmates. In this country there were no roads and paths, and the poor vegetation, however slow, would soon efface the rare travellers' footsteps.

We were moving quickly. The country was already almost a desert. Here and there stood a lonely farm, called a boër, built of wood, sod, or pieces of lava. Each looked like a poor beggar by the roadside. These ruined huts seemed to beg for charity from passersby. It would have taken very little to persuade us to give alms to the poor people living inside. There were no roads or paths in this country. Even the sparse, slow-growing vegetation would soon erase the footsteps of the few travelers who passed through.

Yet this part of the province, at a very small distance from the capital, is reckoned among the inhabited and cultivated portions of Iceland. What, then, must other tracts be, more desert than this desert? In the first half mile we had not seen one farmer standing before his cabin door, nor one shepherd tending a flock less wild than himself, nothing but a few cows and sheep left to themselves. What then would be those convulsed regions upon which we were advancing, regions subject to the dire phenomena of eruptions, the offspring of volcanic explosions and subterranean convulsions?

Yet this part of the province, only a short distance from the capital, is considered inhabited and cultivated. What, then, must other areas be like, more deserted than this desert? In the first half mile, we had not seen a single farmer standing outside his cabin. Nor had we seen a shepherd tending a flock less wild than himself. We saw nothing but a few cows and sheep left to themselves. What, then, would the ravaged regions ahead of us be like? These regions were subject to the terrible forces of eruptions, born of volcanic explosions and upheavals underground.

We were to know them before long, but on consulting Olsen's map, I saw that they would be avoided by winding along the seashore. In fact, the great plutonic action is confined to the central portion of the island; there, rocks of the trappean and volcanic class, including trachyte, basalt, and tuffs and agglomerates associated with streams of lava, have made this a land of supernatural horrors. I had no idea of the spectacle which was awaiting us in the peninsula of Snæfell, where these ruins of a fiery nature have formed a frightful chaos.

We would encounter them before long. But when I consulted Olsen's map, I saw that we could avoid them by following the winding seashore. In fact, the great forces within the earth had affected only the central part of the island. There, volcanic rocks, including trachyte, basalt, tuffs, and agglomerates, lie among streams of lava. They have made this a land of supernatural horrors. I had no idea what awaited us on the Snæfell peninsula, where these remains of fiery activity had formed a dreadful chaos.

In two hours from Rejkiavik we arrived at the burgh of Gufunes, called Aolkirkja, or principal church. There was nothing remarkable here but a few houses, scarcely enough for a German hamlet.

Two hours after leaving Rejkiavik, we arrived at the town of Gufunes, called Aolkirkja, or principal church. There was nothing remarkable here except a few houses, barely enough to make a German hamlet.

Hans stopped here half an hour. He shared with us our frugal breakfast; answering my uncle's questions about the road and our resting place that night with merely yes or no, except when he said "Gardär."

Hans stopped here for half an hour. He shared our simple breakfast. He answered my uncle's questions about the road and where we would rest that night with just yes or no. The only exception was when he said "Gardär."

I consulted the map to see where Gardär was. I saw there was a small town of that name on the banks of the Hvalfiord, four miles from Rejkiavik. I showed it to my uncle.

I checked the map to see where Gardär was. It was a small town on the banks of the Hvalfiord, four miles from Rejkiavik. I showed it to my uncle.

He was about to make an observation to the guide, who without answering resumed his place at the head, and went on his way.

He was about to say something to the guide. Without answering, the guide returned to the front and continued on his way.

Three hours later, still treading on the colourless grass of the pasture land, we had to work round the Kolla fiord, a longer way but an easier one than across that inlet. We soon entered into a 'pingstaoer' or parish called Ejulberg, from whose steeple twelve o'clock would have struck, if Icelandic churches were rich enough to possess clocks. But they are like the parishioners who have no watches and do without.

Three hours later, we were still walking on the colorless grass of the pastureland. We had to go around Kolla fiord, which was longer but easier than crossing the inlet. Soon we entered a 'pingstaoer', or parish, called Ejulberg. Its church steeple would have struck twelve if Icelandic churches were rich enough to have clocks. But the churches are like their parishioners, who have no watches and manage without them.

There our horses were baited; then taking the narrow path to left between a chain of hills and the sea, they carried us to our next stage, the aolkirkja of Brantär and one mile farther on, to Saurboër 'Annexia,' a chapel of ease built on the south shore of the Hvalfiord.

There our horses were fed. Then they carried us along the narrow path to the left, between a chain of hills and the sea. Our next stop was the aolkirkja of Brantär. A mile farther on, we came to Saurboër 'Annexia,' a chapel built on the south shore of the Hvalfiord.

It was now four o'clock, and we had gone four Icelandic miles, or twenty-four English miles.

It was now four o'clock, and we had traveled four Icelandic miles, or twenty-four English miles.

In that place the fiord was at least three English miles wide; the waves rolled with a rushing din upon the sharp-pointed rocks; this inlet was confined between walls of rock, precipices crowned by sharp peaks 2,000 feet high, and remarkable for the brown strata which separated the beds of reddish tuff. However much I might respect the intelligence of our quadrupeds, I hardly cared to put it to the test by trusting myself to it on horseback across an arm of the sea.

At that point, the fiord was at least three English miles wide. Waves crashed noisily against sharp rocks. The inlet lay between rock walls and cliffs crowned by sharp peaks 2,000 feet high. The cliffs were remarkable for their brown layers, which separated beds of reddish tuff. However much I respected the intelligence of our four-legged animals, I hardly wanted to put it to the test by trusting them to carry me on horseback across an arm of the sea.

If they are as intelligent as they are said to be, I thought, they won't try it. In any case, I will tax my intelligence to direct theirs.

If they are as intelligent as people say, I thought, they won't try it. In any case, I'll use all my intelligence to guide theirs.

But my uncle would not wait. He spurred on to the edge. His steed lowered his head to examine the nearest waves and stopped. My uncle, who had an instinct of his own, too, applied pressure, and was again refused by the animal significantly shaking his head. Then followed strong language, and the whip; but the brute answered these arguments with kicks and endeavours to throw his rider. At last the clever little pony, with a bend of his knees, started from under the Professor's legs, and left him standing upon two boulders on the shore just like the colossus of Rhodes.

But my uncle would not wait. He urged his pony to the edge. The pony lowered its head to inspect the nearest waves and stopped. My uncle, who had instincts of his own, urged it forward. But the animal refused again, shaking its head emphatically. Then my uncle swore and used his whip. But the brute responded by kicking and trying to throw him off. At last, the clever little pony bent its knees and slipped out from under the Professor. It left him standing on two boulders on the shore, just like the colossus of Rhodes.

"Confounded brute!" cried the unhorsed horseman, suddenly degraded into a pedestrian, just as ashamed as a cavalry officer degraded to a foot soldier.

"Damned beast!" cried the rider, suddenly reduced to walking. He was as ashamed as a cavalry officer demoted to a foot soldier.

"Färja," said the guide, touching his shoulder.

"Färja," said the guide, touching his shoulder.

"What! a boat?"

"What! A boat?"

"Der," replied Hans, pointing to one.

"Der," said Hans, pointing to one.

"Yes," I cried; "there is a boat."

"Yes," I cried, "there's a boat."

"Why did not you say so then? Well, let us go on."

"Why didn't you say so then? Well, let's go on."

"Tidvatten," said the guide.

"Tidvatten," said the guide.

"What is he saying?"

"What is he saying?"

"He says tide," said my uncle, translating the Danish word.

"He says tide," my uncle said, translating the Danish word.

"No doubt we must wait for the tide."

"We must wait for the tide, no doubt."

"Förbida," said my uncle.

"Förbida," said my uncle.

"Ja," replied Hans.

"Yes," replied Hans.

My uncle stamped with his foot, while the horses went on to the boat.

My uncle stamped his foot while the horses went onto the boat.

I perfectly understood the necessity of abiding a particular moment of the tide to undertake the crossing of the fiord, when, the sea having reached its greatest height, it should be slack water. Then the ebb and flow have no sensible effect, and the boat does not risk being carried either to the bottom or out to sea.

I understood perfectly why we had to wait for a particular moment in the tide to cross the fiord. We needed to wait until the sea reached its highest point, when the water would be slack. Then the tide has no noticeable effect, and the boat is not at risk of being carried under or out to sea.

That favourable moment arrived only with six o'clock; when my uncle, myself, the guide, two other passengers and the four horses, trusted ourselves to a somewhat fragile raft. Accustomed as I was to the swift and sure steamers on the Elbe, I found the oars of the rowers rather a slow means of propulsion. It took us more than an hour to cross the fiord; but the passage was effected without any mishap.

The right moment did not arrive until six o'clock. Then my uncle, the guide, two other passengers, four horses, and I boarded a rather fragile raft. I was used to the fast, reliable steamers on the Elbe, and I found the rowers' oars rather slow. It took us more than an hour to cross the fiord, but we made the crossing without any mishap.

In another half hour we had reached the aolkirkja of Gardär

Half an hour later, we reached the aolkirkja of Gardär.