Kristínartindur

I emerged into the cool overcast morning around 6 AM. After a spot of air guitar overlooking the curving form of the glacier, I started a forthright climb up into the low ceiling of gray clouds. Shortly, with greatly diminished sight, I attempted to follow a faint trail across the loose quadrilaterals and polygons of shale, the sage-colored tundra grasses. The tread would come and go, but with a little intuition and forward progress, I managed to regain the trail after each departure. At first melancholy about the shrouded vistas, I came to appreciate the more immediate experience of the climb, and took to having a closer look at all the wonderful dimensions immediate. And though I could not see whatsoever the majestic peaks and vast ice fields all around, I could sense that there was something powerful nearby, somewhere in the cloud.

After some time, I started to notice more light filtering into the cloud I was in. The pale gray started to meld into warmer tones. Not long after, I noticed that I could see the sun - dimly - through the overcast sky. I continued up the flank of the mountain, now steeper. I took in the green upslope to my left, suddenly realizing the vague but brooding outline of a jagged ridgeline towering overhead. I felt like a field mouse who suddenly realizes the fixed gaze of a hawk. And then, I noted, abruptly, a line of towering spires unveiling to the north. And then - my goodness! -  hovering angelically to the east, the massively-glaciated Hvannadalshnúkur, sitting atop an ether of clouds. Where there was nothing but white a minute ago, now the highest point in Iceland brooded, glinting in a buttery sunlight. A bout of vertigo overwhelmed my sense of things; I took a seat and marveled at the new dimensions. It was as if I was seeing the world anew.

After regaining my senses, I took a lot of pictures and offered video monologues at length, speaking of the "dawn of creation" and the "birthing of the earth from the ethereal fog." These are soaring statements indeed but they still fall short to describe the inner experience bedazzled by mountains taking form before my eyes.

I made the rest of the climb up to my high point near the summit of Kristínartindur. The clouds continued to unveil more and more. The long flowing lines of Skaftafellsjökull. The thundering ice cap of morsárdalur. Vatnajökull himself spanning off into the northern horizon.

Before I left, I took one final view into each of the directions, pausing a moment to offer gratitude to all before me. It was the least I could do, given all that was shared with me on this wonderful morning in Iceland. 

Hvannadalshnúkur

 Morsárdalur