Thank You + Farewell from Iceland!
July 15, 2024
On the 7th, we began our day of celebration: Natalie’s Birthday – conveniently coinciding with the beginning of our trekking! In the early morning, the students awoke shoulder to shoulder in the ‘mega bunks,’ slid out of bed (singular), and took to breakfast like so many jackals. We had a long drive ahead of us, so we packed sandwiches, cleaned the hut, and hit the road!
Our drive was largely uneventful but not unremarkable: we picked up two new friends (Antoine and Ivar of Arctic Adventures), and Noah Kahan’s stick season was only played 3 times. After a few hours of driving, we stopped at a waterfall for a quick shower and a bathroom break. Ivar showed the kids the marshmallow fields of southern Iceland, and, in no time, we rolled into camp – or, so we thought. We soon discovered that we had a short trek and one solitary river crossing ahead of us, but the group remained undaunted, laced up, and bid farewell to Ivar in preparation for our little jaunt to Álftavötn. The hike was short and flat, but our new companion, Antoine, regaled the students with stories of trolls and riddles – the French accent made the latter even more cryptic. Alli brought out the speaker, and the gang marched to the tune of early ’10s pop. We reached the foot of our river crossing, and the students reluctantly shed warm socks and boots for open-toed water shoes before braving the icy waters. Shortly after, we reached our camp for the night, and set up tents along the grassy braids of a highland stream. Antoine helped a handful of boys erect the great kitchen tent, and the group diffused about the glen, soaking up the sun and thanking whichever norse deity we owed for the pleasant weather.
In the last few days, sore throats had broken out amongst the group, so the faithful fanny and her trusty companion, Antoine, cooked a dinner of soup and hot dogs – the Icelandic way. To top it all off, Fanny rolled out a carrot cake for the birthday girl, and we all sang for the occasion. After Cooper, Alli, Michael, and I labored through the dishes (it was actually a lot of fun), LODs Natalie and Will S. led the group in moonup, and we all trickled out of the kitchen tent and into our respective abodes.
In the AM, we rose ready to tackle our longest day of trekking: a fourteen mile hike to Strútur. However, there was a silver lining: the weather couldn’t have been better – another day of blue skies. We broke camp, ate some porridge, cleaned the dishes, and hopped on that ole’ heel-toe-express. It was a long, long march, but we were bolstered by peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches, packages of cookies, and good old fashioned camaraderie. What could’ve been a slog was, in fact, a fun day, as the trek brought us from tundra, through black-sand desert, to expansive valleys bordered by towering peaks. Just before the finish line, our guides angled our group towards a bit of terrain jutting out from a mountain just ahead – as we moved closer, we began to see a thin cloud of steam pooling and dispersing just above the surface of a small pool: a hot spring! The gang changed into swimsuits and began its soak: the waters were warm; the bottom, squishy; and the people, friendly. The water was a little…textured, but I, for one, was remarkably happy to find that nature had offered us warm water for a change. We lounged for a time, and, once sufficiently pruny, we took to the trail once more for the last leg of our day. We cruised in around 5:30 to a sobering discovery: our Arctic Adventures trailer had not yet arrived, and we presently lacked the gear to set up camp. The kids took the news well, and set about playing mafia while Fanny and Antoine attempted to reach their colleague. News soon came that the truck was on its way, and we walked out to meet it and begin the daily process of setting up camp. Connor M. and Will S. found the tallest hill in the campground and placed their tent right atop it; Graham was not as enthused, and I watched him as he carried two duffels and two backpacks, anterior and posterior, up the hill towards the sound of his friends’ laughter (don’t worry, he warmed up to the idea when he saw the view). The formidable Fanny cooked a massive pot o’ salmon pasta, and the group feasted – hours of hiking had left us in a serious calorie deficit, but I think we all managed to close the gap that night. We tucked into bed relatively early – ready to meet another day on the trail.
Day three of trekking began with eggs, bacon, and dishes. We made short-ish work of camp, and hit the trail for another day in the highlands. The trail was flat and the views were gorgeous – a hiker’s dream. We made short work of the desert and gradually entered a flat, boggy valley which we largely crossed on bare feet, excepting Will S, William M, Cooper, and Connor W. who tried their legs at long jumps over the numerous streams we encountered. Our guides, indignant that the boys would go to such lengths to keep their feet dry, were further galled by Will S’s proud statement that his feet were ‘dry as a bone’ – an assertion he made whilst standing in very obviously wet boots. It was the principle of the thing – ya can’t give ’em the satisfaction. Speaking of which, our dear friend, Mia, was a little under the weather – a head cold that passed through the group took yet another victim; however, the girl just wouldn’t quit (not that she really had the option), and I gotta say that we were all impressed with her ability to tackle the hike with poise. Anyways, the rest of us walked, as Michael aptly put it, ‘like our ancestors,’ cruising over the wet, mossy valley until we met its farthest end; there, we donned our hiking boots and jumped back on trail to complete the day! We watched as Leslie attempted a standing backflip and a few somersaults and appreciated that hiking boots were, perhaps, not the best choice of footwear for acrobatics. In no time, we arrived at camp, and what a camp it was: tucked away in a verdant valley surrounded by jagged, staggering peaks and punctuated by a small series of huts, Hvanngil camp was sublime. We gathered the students together to set camp and, once finished, set about enjoying our evening: Will S, Connor M, and Graham collapsed our tent before telling us that it was time for dinner – we ate lamb stew; Michael, the Connors, the Williams, Cooper and I hacked some sack; Alli led the group in a little yoga, with which I really struggled; and the gang retired to the tents.
Antoine left our group in the wee-hours of the morning, and we set about breaking camp, now, sans our fantastic Frenchman. The morning was largely uneventful, and our trek was short and sweet: we crossed a river in the first half mile, walked a long stretch through the black sand desert, and arrived at Ermstrur – a mountain camp tucked away in the shadow of the Myrdalsjökull glacier. The camp was packed, and we struggled to find good spots for our tents, but we still managed to enjoy ourselves. We huddled in our kitchen tent, snacked on cookies and tea, and ate a mess o’ spaghetti before one final excursion: a moonup at the foot of an expansive gorge. It is one of the most incredible sights I’ve ever seen, and I figure that, despite some initial moans and groans, that every member of the group reckoned it worthwhile. Natalie and Isabel managed to walk the half-mile from camp swaddled in a Coleman sleeping quilt and bundled up at the foot of the precipice for our group’s reflection. After moonup, Connor W, William M, and Will s marched to the top of a small little butte overlooking the group – so Boyz. On our walk back, Leslie and Sarah talked of Leslie’s frail little bones, and we walked straight to our tents to end another beautiful day in Iceland.
On our final full-day of trekking, we got a taste of that characteristic Icelandic weather: wind and rain. We woke the students and coaxed them to the tent for breakfast. No one was particularly eager to trek in the conditions, but we made the most of our time and toughed it out. Gracely and Natalie took a quick foot-bath in a small stream, but I never heard anyone complain. After a bit of up and down on trail, we stooped under an overhanging rock feature for lunch and met a trail friend: a three-legged arctic fox by the name of ‘Tripod.’ We left our new friend in the company of several onlooking hikers and struck off into the Thórsmork valley – otherwise known as ‘the Valley of the Gods.’ The scene was nothing short of stirring – towering mountains, birch trees, and churning rivers in every direction. We arrived at camp for our final night on trail, and, after some time setting camp, settled into the kitchen tent for lamb and potatoes.
Our next morning, we broke camp one last time, and piled in the bus for our return-trip to the bus hostel.
This group was a special one – a family of real, unapologetically honest, and unflinchingly kind people. We had a terrific trip, a blessed trip, and Alli and I are truly proud of each of your kids and commensurately grateful to each of you, the parents, for trusting us with their care.
Thank you,
Daniel and Alli
Icelandic Adventures!
July 12, 2024
On the morning of the 4th, we awoke to the eagle’s cry, and the students rose to a feeling in the air: the birds sang liberty, wind through the trees whistled yankee-doodle, and rainbows gave up on the whole OYGIV in favor of good ole’ glory. We careened about the Icelandic countryside, looking for America behind every bend and bush. We felt keenly free – liberated, even – on this day, our Independence Day.
How best to celebrate national identity in a foreign country? How to telegraph to everyone around you, everyone that isn’t American, that they’re totally missing out? I mean, Iceland may have fjords, volcanoes, hot-springs, and really killer hotdogs, but what of freedom? What of liberty – nay, Chick-fil-a? I want to make it clear that – in spite of our proximity to our country of origin, the lack of commercially-available high-explosives, and the notable want of American paraphernalia in local grocery stores – we did our best to celebrate freedom, and we certainly let it ring for anyone in earshot.
We began, as most great undertakings begin, with breakfast: it was oatmeal – admittedly not very patriotic, but we consoled ourselves by imagining that some American quaker, somewhere, ground those oats for our benefit. After oats, we struck camp and headed off into the van towards that never-setting sun. Our leaders of the day, Connor M. and Sarah, donned Captain America themed hats – the spiritual successor to the tricorn hat, as we all know – and stood, figuratively, at the helm of our bus: the road, their Delaware. We drove right to our next campsite, a small sheep farm, and set camp in the thick, verdant grass surrounding a small soccer field (the locals call it football, if you can believe that). The little patch is frequented by three small collies that presumably help herd and protect the sheep – in any event, they were adorable and seemed ecstatic to have so many new friends. The weather was beautiful, and we felt truly blessed and favored. Many an hour would be spent kicking a soccer ball and watching them race to catch it, but that would have to wait: the gang was going hiking!
We dropped our trailer and set up our communal tent before hopping in the van and driving to a trailhead under the tallest waterfall in Iceland. There was just one catch: we’d have to walk to get there (gasp!). We struck-off on the trail and began our march through fields of violet flowers (lupine) and flowing creeks; as we drew closer to the gorge in which our quarry lay, the trail began to ascend up the steep cliff on one side of the creek. Our ascent gradually afforded views of the gorge below – a great black-green gash in the earth – and a creek cutting between the cliffs from the towering waterfall at the far end of the narrow canyon. The trail wrapped about its peak, and we met our first river crossing of the trip. The fantastic Fanny had the students change into water shoes, and we traversed the frigid flow with more determination than enthusiasm. The view from the top was gorgeous, and I’d like to think that everyone, no matter their tastes, would feel that the venture was more than worth the effort. We followed the bend in the trail down the slope towards the trailhead, arriving back at the van roughly four hours after we’d begun. Afterwards, we cruised back to camp, and Leslie, Sarah, Gracely, Connor, and I played a quick, but nonetheless fierce, soccer match. The festive-Fanny, in celebration of our great nation, cooked us traditional American fare: fajitas – they were delicious. The leader team, with good intentions, had purchased three cheesecakes earlier in the day but found, to their chagrin, that the cakes had gradually rendered into cheese soups – they were eaten, nonetheless.
On the morning of the 5th, the fever had passed – we were no-less free but probably less neurotic about it. We awoke to, still, bluer skies – I cannot express to anyone that hasn’t been here for some time just how anomalous this is, but I can tell you that we were pleased to see them. We met in the tent for breakfast and, afterwards, hit the road to our next activity: whale watching.
On our way to the pier, we stopped at a beach to spy some seals. It was a pretty short trip, but not unsuccessful – as it turns out, the seals were present but, shockingly, were rather shy of the thirteen American teenagers. Anyways, by 2:30 we were out on the ocean, scouring the surface for whale signs. The sea was relatively calm and, Dramamine coursing through our veins, we all felt fit for an afternoon on the high seas. That said, more than a few of our number dozed off as we awaited word of sightings – unfortunately, none came. However, we had some great conversations. After a few hours, our ship sailed back to harbor and we disembarked to hand in our gear. We drove back to camp, ate a spot of soup, and hit a quick moonup. Our day, though adventurous, left many of the boys wanting for more, so the boys – William M, Cooper, Will S, Michael, Connor M, Connor W, Graham, and I – headed down to the beach of the fjord just across the street from camp. We walked down the black-sand beach for a while but soon decided to leg it up the hill for a little vista. We soaked in the view for a moment and headed back down to camp.
Our next morning was pleasant – we ate another quick breakfast, packed camp under blue skies, and drove to Selfoss for some cultural immersion at a geothermal pool. When we arrived, we showered, changed, and hopped into hot tubs. Isabel and Natalie spoke to some young Icelandic girls, the gang did some sliding, and we all had a run-in with a rather bemused Icelandic worker. After our pool-day, we walked to a local food hall for burgers, fries, and football – the European variety. Just to top it off, we grabbed a little ice cream and then hit the road to our lodging for the night: the rjúpnavellir hut. We bid farewell to our tents for the night, crowded into a little cabin, and cozied up before a dinner of grilled salmon. The gang played mafia in the top bunks (Mia couldn’t catch a break, The Connor’s make awful mafiosos, and Will plays a mean God), and we tried our best to sleep in anticipation of our trek the next day.
Until next time,
Daniel + Alli
Update from Iceland!
July 4, 2024
ICE 2A: Trip Update 1
The ICE 2A gang arrived in the airport early on the morning of the 30th and assembled in our van, eager to put our little adventure in gear; as it turned out, we’d have to wait: the battery died while the leaders were assembling the campers in the airport. Luckily, our guide, Fanny of Arctic Adventures, is a seasoned veteran of many tours in and around this strange and fantastic land, and, with a little help from her friends, we were out on the open road – our journey had begun, albeit with a stutter.
We struck off in search of that hallowed land: Reykjavik, ‘the Bay of Smoke.’ On a winding road along a nearby Fjord, Fanny-the-wise parked our merry little band of adventurers at a small geothermal hotspot for a lunch-stop and a short stroll about the thermal springs. We ate quickly and hopped back on the road to Reykjavik for our first activity: the salts, saunas, and steam of the Sky Lagoon. We arrived at 12:30, changed into swim-wear, and hit the spa. The Sky Lagoon is famous for its seven step program: 1) a wade through the warm waters of the Lagoon; 2. a cold, cold plunge; 3) a sit in the sauna; 4) a refreshing mist shower; 5) a quick salt scrub; 6) a nice, leisurely parboil in the steam room; 7) finally, a shower to wrap it all up. The program promises that its participants will ‘find peace of mind where sea and sky merge,’ and it largely delivers – forget the fig tree, this little buddha will take the salt-scrub
After a few hours of languor, the gang cruised on to the bus hostel for a pizza dinner and a belated night’s sleep. The campers had to have slept eleven hours, but not before the boys – Cooper, William, Will, Connor M, Connor W, Graham, Michael, and I – huddled about a kindly stranger’s phone to watch the end of the Portugal/Slovenia match. Anyways, the gang slammed some ‘za, and we hit the sack.
In the morning, the team awoke, packed up gear, and walked up the street for breakfast at a nearby bakery. Upon our return to the hostel, the gang had a little time to kill, so Sarah led the group in a game of ritual and decorum – a fancy game for fancy folk, and we’re nothing if not fancy. In all seriousness, folks, it was fun – the game’s rules are a little too much for me to explain here, but rest assured: it was a fun way to break the ice. The van arrived just after 1pm, and we piled in for our second activity of the trip: a cave tour through an ancient tunnel formed about 5000 years ago by, now, cooled lava and magma. Afterwards, the group boarded the van and struck off to the Skjal campgrounds for the evening. On arrival, we unpacked gear from the bus, demoed tent set-up, erected our great communal tent (something like a yurt but with more pizazz (that is, its blue)), and ate pizza (again) at a restaurant adjacent to the camp. Your humble scribe easily consumed a pizza and a half, and I witnessed many-a-camper slam slice after sumptuous slice. Our hunger sated, we had a quick Moonup before hitting our respective sacks.
In the AM, we assembled in the communal tent for porridge and struck off in the van for our rafting reservation. We arrived, donned our wetsuits and helmets, and hopped in a bus which ferried us to our put-in. After a quick briefing on safety and technique, we separated into boats: the girls, (wo)manned by Alli, Isabel, Mia, Gracely, Sarah, Natalie, Leslie, and me (an honorary girl for the day’s float); and the boys, boy-ed by Graham, William M, Will S, Connor (M), Connor (W), Michael, and Cooper. We paddled off into the ever-present sun – unaware that an enmity brewed beneath the surface….
We bombed through the first few rapids, Leslie and Sarah manning the helm, and braved the rapids with uncommon bravado. After a brief float, we stopped in an inlet carved into the canyons bordering the river for a quick cliff-jump. If anyone was wondering, it turns out that if one of your kids’ friends was to jump off a cliff, the rest would surely follow. Anyways, we struck off again — significantly damper than when we’d begun. A few turns later, conflict erupted: the boys angled closer to our raft and, suddenly, Cooper and Connor (M) leapt onto the girls raft and tried their hand at a boarding action – intent on mayhem. They ended up in the water. There was a degree of back-and-forth; however, the conflict eventually cooled, and we floated on to our exit-point. Afterwards, the whole crew drove back to the raft-house for a little r&r: cheeseburgers, hot-tubs, and saunas (not in that order). Everyone left fuller and cleaner than they’d arrived, and we gradually meandered back to camp, but not before a couple of stops: a nearby waterfall and a local geyser.
After a little sight-seeing, we sauntered home and ate a quick dinner in the communal tent.
It has been an absolute pleasure meeting and leading tour kids thus-far, and we can’t wait to see what the future holds!
Alli and Daniel
