Hospitality Under the Arctic Circle

It ought to have been night-time, but under the 65th parallel there was nothing surprising in the nocturnal polar light. In Iceland during the months of June and July the sun does not set.

It should have been night, but at the 65th parallel, light at night was nothing unusual. In Iceland, the sun does not set during June and July.

But the temperature was much lower. I was cold and more hungry than cold. Welcome was the sight of the boër which was hospitably opened to receive us.

But the temperature was much lower. I was cold, and even hungrier than I was cold. I was glad to see the boër, which was opened to welcome us.

It was a peasant's house, but in point of hospitality it was equal to a king's. On our arrival the master came with outstretched hands, and without more ceremony he beckoned us to follow him.

It was a peasant's house, but the hospitality was fit for a king. When we arrived, the owner came to us with his hands outstretched. Without further ceremony, he beckoned us to follow him.

To accompany him down the long, narrow, dark passage, would have been impossible. Therefore, we followed, as he bid us. The building was constructed of roughly squared timbers, with rooms on both sides, four in number, all opening out into the one passage: these were the kitchen, the weaving shop, the badstofa, or family sleeping-room, and the visitors' room, which was the best of all. My uncle, whose height had not been thought of in building the house, of course hit his head several times against the beams that projected from the ceilings.

It was impossible to walk beside him down the long, narrow, dark passage. So we followed him, as he told us to. The building was made of roughly squared timbers. Four rooms, two on each side, opened onto the passage. They were the kitchen, the weaving room, the badstofa, or family sleeping room, and the visitors' room. The visitors' room was the best of all. The house had not been built with my uncle's height in mind. So, of course, he hit his head several times on the beams that stuck out from the ceilings.

We were introduced into our apartment, a large room with a floor of earth stamped hard down, and lighted by a window, the panes of which were formed of sheep's bladder, not admitting too much light. The sleeping accommodation consisted of dry litter, thrown into two wooden frames painted red, and ornamented with Icelandic sentences. I was hardly expecting so much comfort; the only discomfort proceeded from the strong odour of dried fish, hung meat, and sour milk, of which my nose made bitter complaints.

We were shown to our room. It was large, with a floor of hard-packed earth. Its windowpanes were made of sheep’s bladder and let in little light. For sleeping, there was dry bedding piled into two wooden frames. The frames were painted red and decorated with Icelandic sentences. I had hardly expected so much comfort. The only discomfort came from the strong smell of dried fish, hung meat, and sour milk, which my nose bitterly complained about.

When we had laid aside our travelling wraps the voice of the host was heard inviting us to the kitchen, the only room where a fire was lighted even in the severest cold.

After we took off our travel coats, we heard our host invite us into the kitchen. Even in the bitterest cold, it was the only room where a fire was lit.

My uncle lost no time in obeying the friendly call, nor was I slack in following.

My uncle immediately answered the friendly call, and I followed without delay.

The kitchen chimney was constructed on the ancient pattern; in the middle of the room was a stone for a hearth, over it in the roof a hole to let the smoke escape. The kitchen was also a dining-room.

The kitchen chimney was built in the old style. A stone in the middle of the room served as the hearth. A hole in the roof above it let the smoke escape. The kitchen also served as a dining room.

At our entrance the host, as if he had never seen us, greeted us with the word "Sællvertu," which means "be happy," and came and kissed us on the cheek.

When we entered, the host greeted us as if he had never seen us before. He said "Sællvertu," which means "be happy," and came over and kissed us on the cheek.

After him his wife pronounced the same words, accompanied with the same ceremonial; then the two placing their hands upon their hearts, inclined profoundly before us.

After him, his wife said the same words and performed the same ritual. Then both placed their hands over their hearts and bowed deeply before us.

I hasten to inform the reader that this Icelandic lady was the mother of nineteen children, all, big and little, swarming in the midst of the dense wreaths of smoke with which the fire on the hearth filled the chamber. Every moment I noticed a fair-haired and rather melancholy face peeping out of the rolling volumes of smoke—they were a perfect cluster of unwashed angels.

I should quickly tell the reader that this Icelandic woman was the mother of nineteen children. All of them, big and little, swarmed through the thick clouds of smoke that the hearth fire sent into the room. Every moment, I noticed a fair-haired, rather melancholy face peeking out of the swirling smoke. They were a perfect cluster of unwashed angels.

My uncle and I treated this little tribe with kindness; and in a very short time we each had three or four of these brats on our shoulders, as many on our laps, and the rest between our knees. Those who could speak kept repeating "Sællvertu," in every conceivable tone; those that could not speak made up for that want by shrill cries.

My uncle and I treated this little tribe kindly. Before long, we each had three or four of the brats on our shoulders, as many on our laps, and the rest between our knees. Those who could speak kept repeating "Sællvertu," in every imaginable tone. Those who could not speak made up for it with shrill cries.

This concert was brought to a close by the announcement of dinner. At that moment our hunter returned, who had been seeing his horses provided for; that is to say, he had economically let them loose in the fields, where the poor beasts had to content themselves with the scanty moss they could pull off the rocks and a few meagre sea weeds, and the next day they would not fail to come of themselves and resume the labours of the previous day.

The concert ended when dinner was announced. Just then, our hunter returned from seeing to his horses. To save money, he had simply let them loose in the fields. The poor beasts had to make do with the little moss they could pull from the rocks and a few scraps of seaweed. The next day, they would be sure to return on their own and resume the previous day’s work.

"Sællvertu," said Hans.

"Goodbye," said Hans.

Then calmly, automatically, and dispassionately he kissed the host, the hostess, and their nineteen children.

Then, calmly, automatically, and without emotion, he kissed the host, the hostess, and their nineteen children.

This ceremony over, we sat at table, twenty-four in number, and therefore one upon another. The luckiest had only two urchins upon their knees.

After the ceremony, all twenty-four of us sat down at the table, practically on top of one another. The luckiest had only two children on their laps.

But silence reigned in all this little world at the arrival of the soup, and the national taciturnity resumed its empire even over the children. The host served out to us a soup made of lichen and by no means unpleasant, then an immense piece of dried fish floating in butter rancid with twenty years' keeping, and, therefore, according to Icelandic gastronomy, much preferable to fresh butter. Along with this, we had 'skye,' a sort of clotted milk, with biscuits, and a liquid prepared from juniper berries; for beverage we had a thin milk mixed with water, called in this country 'blanda.' It is not for me to decide whether this diet is wholesome or not; all I can say is, that I was desperately hungry, and that at dessert I swallowed to the very last gulp of a thick broth made from buckwheat.

But when the soup arrived, everyone in this little world fell silent. The usual national quiet took hold again, even among the children. Our host served us a soup made from lichen, which was not at all unpleasant. Then he served an immense piece of dried fish floating in butter that had gone rancid after twenty years. According to Icelandic tastes, this made it much better than fresh butter. With this we had 'skye,' a kind of thickened milk, along with biscuits and a liquid made from juniper berries. To drink, we had thin milk mixed with water, called 'blanda' in this country. It is not for me to say whether this diet is healthy. All I can say is that I was desperately hungry. For dessert, I swallowed every last drop of a thick buckwheat broth.

As soon as the meal was over the children disappeared, and their elders gathered round the peat fire, which also burnt such miscellaneous fuel as briars, cow-dung, and fishbones. After this little pinch of warmth the different groups retired to their respective rooms. Our hostess hospitably offered us her assistance in undressing, according to Icelandic usage; but on our gracefully declining, she insisted no longer, and I was able at last to curl myself up in my mossy bed.

As soon as the meal was over, the children disappeared, and the adults gathered around the peat fire. It also burned a mix of other fuels, including briars, cow dung, and fish bones. After warming themselves a little, the different groups went to their rooms. Following Icelandic custom, our hostess kindly offered to help us undress. But when we politely declined, she did not insist, and I was finally able to curl up in my mossy bed.

At five next morning we bade our host farewell, my uncle with difficulty persuading him to accept a proper remuneration; and Hans signalled the start.

At five the next morning, we said goodbye to our host. My uncle had difficulty persuading him to accept proper payment. Then Hans signaled that it was time to leave.

At a hundred yards from Gardär the soil began to change its aspect; it became boggy and less favourable to progress. On our right the chain of mountains was indefinitely prolonged like an immense system of natural fortifications, of which we were following the counter-scarp or lesser steep; often we were met by streams, which we had to ford with great care, not to wet our packages.

A hundred yards from Gardär, the ground began to change. It became boggy and harder to cross. On our right, the mountain range stretched away endlessly, like a vast system of natural fortifications. We followed its outer, gentler slope. We often came to streams that we had to cross carefully, so as not to wet our packages.

The desert became wider and more hideous; yet from time to time we seemed to descry a human figure that fled at our approach, sometimes a sharp turn would bring us suddenly within a short distance of one of these spectres, and I was filled with loathing at the sight of a huge deformed head, the skin shining and hairless, and repulsive sores visible through the gaps in the poor creature's wretched rags.

The desert grew wider and more hideous. Yet from time to time, we seemed to glimpse a human figure fleeing as we approached. Sometimes a sharp turn would suddenly bring us close to one of these specters. The sight filled me with disgust. The poor creature had a huge, deformed head with shiny, hairless skin. Repulsive sores showed through gaps in the creature’s wretched rags.

The unhappy being forbore to approach us and offer his misshapen hand. He fled away, but not before Hans had saluted him with the customary "Sællvertu."

The unhappy man did not approach us or offer his misshapen hand. He fled, but not before Hans greeted him with the customary "Sællvertu."

"Spetelsk," said he.

"Spetelsk," he said.

"A leper!" my uncle repeated.

"A leper!" my uncle repeated.

This word produced a repulsive effect. The horrible disease of leprosy is too common in Iceland; it is not contagious, but hereditary, and lepers are forbidden to marry.

The word caused revulsion. The horrible disease of leprosy is too common in Iceland. It is not contagious, but hereditary, and lepers are forbidden to marry.

These apparitions were not cheerful, and did not throw any charm over the less and less attractive landscapes. The last tufts of grass had disappeared from beneath our feet. Not a tree was to be seen, unless we except a few dwarf birches as low as brushwood. Not an animal but a few wandering ponies that their owners would not feed. Sometimes we could see a hawk balancing himself on his wings under the grey cloud, and then darting away south with rapid flight. I felt melancholy under this savage aspect of nature, and my thoughts went away to the cheerful scenes I had left in the far south.

These apparitions were not cheerful, and they added no charm to the increasingly bleak landscape. The last tufts of grass had disappeared from beneath our feet. There were no trees, except for a few dwarf birches no taller than bushes. The only animals were a few wandering ponies whose owners would not feed them. Sometimes we saw a hawk hovering beneath the gray clouds. Then it would dart south in rapid flight. This wild landscape made me feel melancholy. My thoughts wandered to the cheerful scenes I had left far to the south.

We had to cross a few narrow fiords, and at last quite a wide gulf; the tide, then high, allowed us to pass over without delay, and to reach the hamlet of Alftanes, one mile beyond.

We had to cross a few narrow fjords and finally a wide gulf. The tide was high, so we crossed without delay and reached the hamlet of Alftanes, a mile farther on.

That evening, after having forded two rivers full of trout and pike, called Alfa and Heta, we were obliged to spend the night in a deserted building worthy to be haunted by all the elfins of Scandinavia. The ice king certainly held court here, and gave us all night long samples of what he could do.

That evening, we crossed two rivers called Alfa and Heta, both full of trout and pike. We then had to spend the night in a deserted building fit to be haunted by all the elves of Scandinavia. The ice king certainly held court there and showed us what he could do all night long.

No particular event marked the next day. Bogs, dead levels, melancholy desert tracks, wherever we travelled. By nightfall we had accomplished half our journey, and we lay at Krösolbt.

Nothing unusual happened the next day. Wherever we traveled, we saw bogs, flat plains, and bleak desert tracks. By nightfall, we had completed half our journey and rested at Krösolbt.

On the 19th of June, for about a mile, that is an Icelandic mile, we walked upon hardened lava; this ground is called in the country 'hraun'; the writhen surface presented the appearance of distorted, twisted cables, sometimes stretched in length, sometimes contorted together; an immense torrent, once liquid, now solid, ran from the nearest mountains, now extinct volcanoes, but the ruins around revealed the violence of the past eruptions. Yet here and there were a few jets of steam from hot springs.

On June 19, we walked on hardened lava for about a mile, that is, an Icelandic mile. In Iceland, this ground is called 'hraun'. Its twisted surface looked like distorted cables, sometimes stretched out and sometimes tangled together. An immense torrent of lava had flowed from the nearest mountains. It had once been liquid but was now solid. The mountains were extinct volcanoes, but the ruins around them revealed the violence of past eruptions. Yet here and there, jets of steam rose from hot springs.

We had no time to watch these phenomena; we had to proceed on our way. Soon at the foot of the mountains the boggy land reappeared, intersected by little lakes. Our route now lay westward; we had turned the great bay of Faxa, and the twin peaks of Snæfell rose white into the cloudy sky at the distance of at least five miles.

We had no time to watch these phenomena. We had to keep moving. Soon, at the foot of the mountains, the boggy land returned, dotted with small lakes. Our route now headed west. We had traveled around the great bay of Faxa, and the twin peaks of Snæfell rose white into the cloudy sky at least five miles away.

The horses did their duty well, no difficulties stopped them in their steady career. I was getting tired; but my uncle was as firm and straight as he was at our first start. I could not help admiring his persistency, as well as the hunter's, who treated our expedition like a mere promenade.

The horses did well, moving steadily onward despite every difficulty. I was getting tired, but my uncle was as steady and upright as when we started. I could not help admiring his persistence. I admired the hunter's persistence too, since he treated our expedition like a simple stroll.

June 20. At six p.m. we reached Büdir, a village on the sea shore; and the guide there claiming his due, my uncle settled with him. It was Hans' own family, that is, his uncles and cousins, who gave us hospitality; we were kindly received, and without taxing too much the goodness of these folks, I would willingly have tarried here to recruit after my fatigues. But my uncle, who wanted no recruiting, would not hear of it, and the next morning we had to bestride our beasts again.

June 20. At six p.m. we reached Büdir, a village on the seashore. There, the guide asked for his payment, and my uncle paid him. Hans' own family, his uncles and cousins, offered us hospitality and welcomed us warmly. I would gladly have stayed to recover from my exhaustion, without imposing too much on their kindness. But my uncle needed no rest and would not hear of it. So the next morning, we had to mount our animals again.

The soil told of the neighbourhood of the mountain, whose granite foundations rose from the earth like the knotted roots of some huge oak. We were rounding the immense base of the volcano. The Professor hardly took his eyes off it. He tossed up his arms and seemed to defy it, and to declare, "There stands the giant that I shall conquer." After about four hours' walking the horses stopped of their own accord at the door of the priest's house at Stapi.

The ground showed that we were near the mountain. Its granite foundations rose from the earth like the knotted roots of a huge oak. We were going around the enormous base of the volcano. The Professor hardly took his eyes off it. He threw up his arms and seemed to defy the volcano, as if declaring, "There stands the giant I will conquer." After about four hours of walking, the horses stopped on their own at the door of the priest's house in Stapi.