I finally got to walk on a glacier. I’ve seen them from a distance when hiking alongside their imposing presence on the Laugavegur trail, and up close on a boat to the calving front in the Jökulsárlón glacial lagoon. I have memories of a planned glacier walk in Alaska that was scrapped when I was twelve years old, visiting my Aunt Debi with my grandparents, but that was too long ago to even remember the circumstances. This week I finally got on top of (and even inside!) the glacier Sólheimajökull, an outlet of the the larger Mýrdalsjökull ice dome sitting atop the Katla volcano.
Sólheimajökull is probably the most accessible glacier in Iceland, which is why I was able to visit it on a day-trip from Reykjavík. It’s a skinny, 12 km long valley, that terminates in a glacial lagoon that wasn’t even there in 2009, but grows 50 meters larger ever year as the glacier retreats due to rapid melting since the turn of the century. There is a timelapse video on Vimeo that captures the change from 2007 to 2018, and the Glacier Change website has numerous slide-over comparison photos, the most dramatic of which compares photographs from 1930 and 2023. My guide thought there may be only a couple more years where it will be possible to access the ice from easy approach we took, as the front pulls away into the valley.
The surface of Sólheimajökull is partly covered by black volcanic ash from the nearby Katla volcano, which hasn’t had a major eruption since 1918. Thin layers of ash can accelerate the melting of of the ice, since the darkened surface lowers reflectivity and increases heat absorption. But if the layer of ash is thick enough it can actually slow melting by acting as an insulating blanket.
Once you get past the lagoon and actually up glacier the thickness of the ice becomes more obvious. What isn’t apparent when looking at the lagoon is that it’s 60 meters deep, which as our guide pointed out is nearly the height of the Hallgrímskirkja church in Reykjavík. That’s why exploring a glacier requires caution, because that surface is full of crevasses, which are cracks, but also moulins, which are formed by flowing water and can create drop offs all the way to the bottom. A glacier is not solid ice, there is always water melting and flowing within it.
The tour I took was not just walking on the glacier, but ice climbing into the glacier, and the photos above show the moulin that our guide identified for us to climb. The second shot, leaning over the edge, I took while attached to an anchored tether that hooked on to a harness. I would not want to lean over this edge otherwise, as a slip and fall would have been disastrous — I couldn’t see the bottom.
The crampons you wear for ice climbing are a little different than I was used to, mainly the addition of spikes near the toes, as it requires kicking the ice wall hard enough to stick and support your weight as you reach up and secure your next position.
Our guide identified a “blue ice” spot that was strong enough to anchor the rope, which could supposedly support up to 1,000 pounds. You strap the rope to your harness and then essentially just walk backwards over the edge of the moulin, walking down the ice wall with the tension of the rope supporting you. Then, once you’ve gone as deep as you’d like, you turn vertical and stab your feet into the ice to begin climbing out.
Ice climbing was a lot of fun, and much easier once I got my technique down and stopped trying to pull myself up from the ice axes. Ideally you are stuck to the wall by your toes, and only use the axes to balance and take the next step up. Our guide was a Frenchman named Steve who was very patient with climbing newbies and apparently quite the adventurer himself. He’s planning a solo, 550 km unsupported ski trip across Greenland next year. I have photosets on Instagram of the glacier and a separate one for ice climbing. if you want to see more photos.
I would highly recommend this day-trip through Arctic Adventures for anyone who is interested. The transport option from Reyjavík also includes stops at the Skógafoss and Seljalandsfoss waterfalls, the latter of which is skipped later in the winter due to lack of daylight. But luckily for me, I got the opportunity to walk behind the falls as the sun was setting.
The other big event this week was Iceland Airwaves, a 3-day music festival that grows to fill the whole week with numerous off-venue events and takes over the entire downtown area. I had a festival pass, and saw a least a dozen acts over four days. All of the venues are within walking distance, so it’s easy to check out a performance and decide to move on midway through if you’re not feeling it. In general it was a little too heavy on the dance/club side of things, but there was huge diversity with folk, hip-hop, neo-classical, rock, and electronic in the mix. Some of the acts I wanted to see simply went on too late for this middle-aged man, and jam-packed venues are less fun once it gets past drunk o’clock — but overall it was a fun experience.
The festivals is a showcase for Icelandic musicians, but also had lots of the UK, Faroe Islands, US, and EU countries. I knew very few of the names going into it, but enjoyed the sets I saw by Jelena Ciric, lúpina, Ólöf Arnalds, knackered, Antony Szmierek, RAKEL, Hania Derej, Milkywhale, Lea Kampmann.
Noted & Done
- A recent survey noted that the Icelandic sheep population has dropped by 100,000 in the past ten years, leaving only 350,000 sheep in Iceland. That means that today is the first time there has ever been more people than sheep in Iceland.
- The USD/ISK exchange rate is still bumpy but is finally creeping back up. It reached its nadir right as I moved here, so any improvement is welcome from my perspective.
- Finished watching season 3 of The Diplomat, which is no Borgen, but continues to hold up pretty well as a US political drama. Given that it’s been part of my studies I was delighted to see the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea show up as a plot element.