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After a drive back across the hills we rolled into our next place of rest. A wooden hut, pre-warmed by our hosts, petite but cosy, and just perfect for our needs. We slept to dreams of rushing water, snowy wilderness and a land of extremes.
As the sun clambered over the horizon the next morning we were already negotiating the road that follows the coast to the south of the Island. Despite more new snow the roads in Iceland are a joy. Quiet, well mantained and groomed daily by thundering snow plows. The biggest risk of leaving the road is because you are transfixed by the majesty of the glaciers and mountains, entwined by gushing streams and waterfalls and boarded by the ferocious North Atlantic exploding into every inlet.
As we pulled up into the small car park next to the Jökulsárlón Lagoon, my heart was in my throat. I can’t describe how stunning this place is. The intense blue of the ice, crisp white of the snow, inky depths of the lake and occasional slate grey head of an inquisitive seal. All we could do for some time was stare, jaws slack and emotions buzzing.
Eventually we shook off our stupor of wonder and I trudged through the snow to do the wetsuit shuffle in the front of the car and grab my board. As I pumped up the board my breath misted in front of me reminding us how cold the water was. Tiptoeing between small boulders and large lumps of ice I pushed the board out tail first and gingerly hopped onto the nose. Despite the mirror like water I wobbled as I climbed to my feet. Once clear of the shore and upright I was relieved, and with a little more confidence pulled my paddle through the water, moving smoothly out into the maze of twisted ice and gentle mist.
I have to make this very clear – paddling between icebergs, no matter how small they are, is dangerous.
It is not something to be done without consideration. As you negotiate the intricate corridors you can hear the ice creak and groan as they rub against one another. Occasionally small chunks shear from their sides and float away in the gentle current destined for the ocean. One such lump glanced of my tail making me wobble a little. The larger burgs can roll unpredictably due to their asymmetric profiles and so a safe distance should be maintained between you and them.
Occasionally there are areas of semi frozen slush through which it feels like you are paddling in treacle. A gentle current in the lake is enough to keep you on you guard. This is especially so near to the head of the short river down which the ice will eventually escape through foaming rapids and onto the pounding coastline.
Seals were fascinated by my board. Initially they were hesitant, but as they grew used to me they danced closer and closer, playing hide and sneak between the ice. One in particular played just off my nose, twisting and frolicking, obviously hoping I was a playmate.
I stayed out until my extremities could take it no longer. My fingers and toes throbbed and my body trembled with the cold as I pulled myself onto the shore. I was greeted by a local policeman gently shaking his head… “This is very dangerous”. “I know” I sheepishly responded. “I was really careful”. “The water is very cold”. He said. “I am wearing a good wetsuit”. He shook his head. “Hmmmm. The water is very deep”. ” I am wearing a leash and am a strong swimmer”. “But it is very dangerous”, he re-enforced as he trotted off shaking his head. Apparently I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Just a little unexpected.
