8-14-15
(Mrs. Reid's thoughts) We had to fix breakfast in the car and hurry to our 9:30 glacier hike at Skaftafell Glacier. Our hike began with a ride on the yellow limo to the glacier river valley. We hiked up and down over rocks and bits of glacier covered with black ash. When you book a tour you have no way to know the pace or difficulty. This hike went beyond my physical ability so I made a difficult choice once we reached the ice to stay behind by myself. Due to climate change a huge amount of glacier had melted making the hike more difficult and steep this year. Mrs. Tate, persevered with the climb and our guide Freyr. Soon my group disappeared across the narrow ledge of the glacier and out of sight. I was completely alone without a watch in the cold pelting rain that came and went. It was a time to reflect and observe. I watched fist size rocks begin to tumble from high up down to the river below. I saw trickles of water we had crossed grow in their surge. I had the challenge of calmly waiting with nature. It was an amazing time of renewed strength in both mind and body. When we returned from the hike, we peeled off our layers to try and dry them in the car as we drove on to the next adventure an amphibian boat tour at Jokulsarlon glacier bay. So many shades of blue and white in the icebergs, seals swimming, and tasting the pure clean ice from Viking times were all highlights! Luckily, the hotel and dry clothes were next! We were soaked, exhausted, and definitely exhilirated by our experiences!
(Mrs. Tate's thoughts) Five minutes into our glacier climb at Falljokull, and all I could think was "how much longer do we HAVE to do this?" Frankly, I was slightly terrified. As Mrs. Reid mentioned, due to warming temperatures in the last twenty years or so, glacial tongues like Falljokull are receding as Vatnajokull shrinks. Just last year, climbers like us were able to walk from the land right up onto the terminus of the glacier. Now we had a roughly 150 foot climb up a gravel and boulder-strewn icy pathway to even get on the bare ice. Oh, and if you slipped, you might just plunge down into the raging meltwater river and be swept away. No biggie. As we got ready to step onto the glacier, our guide Freyr told us to "trust our equipment". If you take teensy, hesitant steps, you are likely to slip. However, if you trust your crampons and take bigger, more forceful steps, you will bite into the ice and move with ease. This is easier said than done when the fear center of your brain is calling the shots. Mustering every fiber of my quadriceps (as well as rousing my tiny, inner adventuress), I tested out Freyr's advice and took a couple of steps across the ice. Observing that I was still upright, I began to move with more ease and speed. Scared at first of the danger posed by moulins (those vertical holes that empty small streams of meltwater to the base of the glacier) and crevasses, I soon moved with confidence across the frozen landscape. Like any great teacher, Freyr modeled positivity and encouragement in the face of our nervousness and the driving rain and intermittent hail. I learned and saw so many cool things to share with my students: how Falljokull is one of the most scientifically-studied glaciers in the world, how glacial mice (moss-covered rocks) form on glaciers near volcanoes, and what would happen if heat from the volcano suddenly melted the ice at the base of the glacier (thankfully Freyr told us about that part at the end of our hike--world's biggest surfboard!) By the end of our alotted hour, I was having so much fun that in my head I asked "is it really time to get off the glacier?" Sometimes living outside your comfort-zone is a surprisingly enjoyable place to be.
(Mrs. Reid's thoughts) We had to fix breakfast in the car and hurry to our 9:30 glacier hike at Skaftafell Glacier. Our hike began with a ride on the yellow limo to the glacier river valley. We hiked up and down over rocks and bits of glacier covered with black ash. When you book a tour you have no way to know the pace or difficulty. This hike went beyond my physical ability so I made a difficult choice once we reached the ice to stay behind by myself. Due to climate change a huge amount of glacier had melted making the hike more difficult and steep this year. Mrs. Tate, persevered with the climb and our guide Freyr. Soon my group disappeared across the narrow ledge of the glacier and out of sight. I was completely alone without a watch in the cold pelting rain that came and went. It was a time to reflect and observe. I watched fist size rocks begin to tumble from high up down to the river below. I saw trickles of water we had crossed grow in their surge. I had the challenge of calmly waiting with nature. It was an amazing time of renewed strength in both mind and body. When we returned from the hike, we peeled off our layers to try and dry them in the car as we drove on to the next adventure an amphibian boat tour at Jokulsarlon glacier bay. So many shades of blue and white in the icebergs, seals swimming, and tasting the pure clean ice from Viking times were all highlights! Luckily, the hotel and dry clothes were next! We were soaked, exhausted, and definitely exhilirated by our experiences!
(Mrs. Tate's thoughts) Five minutes into our glacier climb at Falljokull, and all I could think was "how much longer do we HAVE to do this?" Frankly, I was slightly terrified. As Mrs. Reid mentioned, due to warming temperatures in the last twenty years or so, glacial tongues like Falljokull are receding as Vatnajokull shrinks. Just last year, climbers like us were able to walk from the land right up onto the terminus of the glacier. Now we had a roughly 150 foot climb up a gravel and boulder-strewn icy pathway to even get on the bare ice. Oh, and if you slipped, you might just plunge down into the raging meltwater river and be swept away. No biggie. As we got ready to step onto the glacier, our guide Freyr told us to "trust our equipment". If you take teensy, hesitant steps, you are likely to slip. However, if you trust your crampons and take bigger, more forceful steps, you will bite into the ice and move with ease. This is easier said than done when the fear center of your brain is calling the shots. Mustering every fiber of my quadriceps (as well as rousing my tiny, inner adventuress), I tested out Freyr's advice and took a couple of steps across the ice. Observing that I was still upright, I began to move with more ease and speed. Scared at first of the danger posed by moulins (those vertical holes that empty small streams of meltwater to the base of the glacier) and crevasses, I soon moved with confidence across the frozen landscape. Like any great teacher, Freyr modeled positivity and encouragement in the face of our nervousness and the driving rain and intermittent hail. I learned and saw so many cool things to share with my students: how Falljokull is one of the most scientifically-studied glaciers in the world, how glacial mice (moss-covered rocks) form on glaciers near volcanoes, and what would happen if heat from the volcano suddenly melted the ice at the base of the glacier (thankfully Freyr told us about that part at the end of our hike--world's biggest surfboard!) By the end of our alotted hour, I was having so much fun that in my head I asked "is it really time to get off the glacier?" Sometimes living outside your comfort-zone is a surprisingly enjoyable place to be.
Freyr holding a glacial mouse. These moss-covered rocks--ejected from one of the five volcanoes under Vatnajokull--form slowly over many years. The moss takes about twenty years to grow on one side, and then the mouse rolls into a new position, exposing a bare side to be covered. Eventually the rock is completely surrounded in a little furry green coat.
The Belgians in our group hadn't yet caught the "hey-it's-raining-on-our-glacier-climb" excitement bug from Freyr. The group is encircling a moulin. No one wanted to take the slip 'n' slide to the base of the glacier, so we all watched our step. Many thanks to