A Barren Land

: A Journey To The Interior Of The Earth

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.

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

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"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."

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

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.'

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.

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.

"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."

"We may; but how 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."

We were advancing at a rapid pace. The country was already almost a

desert. Here and there was a lonely farm, called a boer 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.

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?

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 Snaefell, where these ruins of a fiery nature have formed a

frightful 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.

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


I consulted the map to see where Gardar 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.

"Four miles only!" he exclaimed; "four miles out of twenty-eight.

What a nice little walk!"

He was about to make an observation to the guide, who without

answering resumed his place at the head, and went 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.

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 Brantar and one mile farther on, to Saurboer

'Annexia,' a chapel of ease 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.

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.

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


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.

"Confounded brute!" cried the unhorsed horseman, suddenly degraded

into a pedestrian, just as ashamed as a cavalry officer degraded to a

foot soldier.

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

"What! a boat?"

"DER," replied Hans, pointing to one.

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

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

"TIDVATTEN," said the guide.

"What is he saying?"

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

"No doubt we must wait for the tide."

"FORBIDA," said my uncle.

"JA," replied Hans.

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

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.

In another half hour we had reached the aolkirkja of Gardar