Upon turning the point of a hill where our trail was a little elevated above the great valley, ZÖega called my attention to a column of vapor that seemed to rise out of the ground about ten miles distant. For all I could judge, it was smoke from some settler’s cabin situated in a hollow of the slope. “That’s the Geysers, sir,” he replied, as coolly as if it were the commonest thing in the world to see the famous Geysers of Iceland. “The Geysers! That little thing the Geysers?” “Yes, sir.” “Dear me! who would ever have thought it?” I may as well confess at once that I was sadly disappointed. It was a pleasure, of course, to see what I had read of and pictured to my mind, from early boyhood; but this contemptible little affair looked very much like a humbug. A vague idea had taken possession of my mind that I would see a whole district of country shooting up hot water and sulphurous vapors—a kind of hell upon earth; but that thing ahead of us—that little curl of smoke on the horizon looked so peaceful, so inadequate a result of great subterranean fires, that I could not but feel some resentment toward the travelers who had preceded me, and whose glowing accounts of the Geysers had deceived me. At this point of view it was not at all equal to the Geysers of California. I had a distinct recollection of the great caÑon between Russian River Valley and Clear Lake, the magnificent hills on the route, the first glimpse of the infernal scene far down in the bed of the caÑon, the boiling, hissing waters, and clouds of vapor whirling up among the rocks, the towering crags on the opposite side, and the noble forests of oak and pine that spread “a boundless contiguity of shade” over the wearied traveler, and I must say a patriotic pride took possession of my soul. We had beaten the world in the production of gold; our fruits were finer and our vegetables larger than any ever produced in other countries; our men taller and stronger, our women prettier and more prolific, our lawsuits more extensive, our fights the best ever gotten up, our towns the most rapidly built and rapidly burned—in short, every thing was on a grand, wide, broad, tall, fast, overwhelming scale, that bid defiance to competition, and now I was satisfied we could “That may be, ZÖega. I have no doubt they are very fine, but it is not within the bounds of possibility that they should equal the Geysers of California.” “Indeed, sir! I didn’t know you had Geysers there.” “Didn’t know it! Never heard of the Geysers of California?” “Never, sir.” “Well, ZÖega, that is remarkable. Our Geysers are the finest, the bitterest, the smokiest, the noisiest, the most infernal in the world; and as for mountains, our Shasta Bute would knock your Mount Hecla into a cocked hat!” “Is it possible!” “Of course it is.” “And have you great lava-beds covering whole valleys as we have here?” “Certainly—only they are made of gold. We call them Placers—Gold Placers.” “A wonderful country, sir!” “Would you like to go there, ZÖega?” “No, sir; I’d rather stay here.” SHEPHERD AND FAMILY. And so we talked, ZÖega and I, as we jogged along pleasantly on our way. Our ride, after we caught the first sight of the smoke, continued for some two hours over a series of low hills, with little green valleys lying between, till we came to an extensive bog that skirts the base of the Langarfjal, a volcanic bluff forming the background of the Geysers. It was now becoming interesting. Half an hour more would settle the matter conclusively Although these worthy people lived not over half a mile from the Geysers, they could not tell us when the last eruption had taken place—a most important thing for us to know, as the success of the trip depended almost entirely upon the length of time which had elapsed since that event. The man said he never took notice of the eruptions. He saw the water shooting up every few days, but paid no particular attention to it. There might have been an eruption yesterday, or this morning, for all he knew; it was impossible for him to say positively. “In truth, good friend,” said he to ZÖega, “my head is filled with sheep, and they give me trouble enough.” It was evidently filled with something, for he kept scratching it all the time he was talking. Many travelers have been compelled to wait a week for an eruption of the Great Geyser, though the interval between the eruptions is not usually more than three days. A good deal depends upon the previous state of the weather, whether it has been wet or dry. Sometimes Ascending a slope of dry incrusted earth of a red and yellowish color, we first came upon the Little Geyser, a small orifice in the ground, from which a column of steam arose. A bubbling sound as of boiling water issued from the depths below, but otherwise it presented no remarkable phenomena. In a few minutes more we stood in the middle of a sloping plateau of some half a mile in circuit, which declines into an extensive valley on the right. Within the limits of this area there are some forty springs and fissures which emit hot water and vapors. None of them are of any considerable size, except the Great We rode directly toward the Great Geyser, which we approached within about fifty yards. Here was the camping-ground—a pleasant little patch of green sod, where the various travelers who had preceded us had pitched their tents. ZÖega knew every spot. He had accompanied most of the distinguished gentlemen who had honored the place with their presence, and had something to say in his grave, simple way about each of them. Here stood Lord Dufferin’s tent. A lively young gentleman he was; a very nice young man; told some queer stories about the Icelanders; didn’t see much of the country, but made a very nice book about what he saw; had a great time at the governor’s, and drank every body drunk under the table, etc. Here, close by, the Prince Napoleon pitched his tent—a large tent, very handsomely decorated; room for all his officers; very fine gentleman the prince; had lots of money; drank plenty of Champagne; a fat gentleman, not very tall; had blackish “Was it Pliny Miles?” I asked. “Yes, sir, that was his name. I was with him all the time.” “Have you his book?” “Yes, sir, I have his book at home. A very queer gentleman, Mr. Miles; saw a great many things that I didn’t see; says he came near getting drowned in a river.” “And didn’t he?” “Well, sir, I don’t know. I didn’t see him when he was near being drowned. You crossed the river, sir, yourself, and know whether it is dangerous.” “Was it the BrÚarÁ?” “No, sir; one of the other little rivers, about knee-deep.” Here was food for reflection. ZÖega, with his matter-of-fact eyes, evidently saw things in an entirely different light from that in which they presented themselves to the enthusiastic tourists who accompanied him. Perhaps he would some time or other be pointing out my tent to some inquisitive visitor, and giving him a running criticism upon my journal of experiences in Iceland. I deemed it judicious, therefore, to explain to him that gentlemen who traveled all the way to Iceland were bound to see something and meet with some thrilling adventures. If they didn’t tell of very remarkable things, “For my part, ZÖega,” said I, “having no great skill as an artist, and being a very plain, unimaginative man, as you know, I shall confine myself strictly to facts. Perhaps there will be novelty enough in telling the truth to attract attention.” “The truth is always the best, sir,” replied ZÖega, gravely and piously. “Of course it is, ZÖega. This country is sufficiently curious in itself. It does not require the aid of fiction to give it effect. Therefore, should you come across any thing in my narrative which may have escaped your notice, depend upon it I thought it was true—or ought to be.” “Yes, sir; I know you would never lie like some of these gentlemen.” “Never! never, ZÖega! I scorn a lying traveler above all things on earth.” But these digressions, however amusing they were at the time, can scarcely be of much interest to the reader. Even after the lapse of several years the marks around the camping-ground were quite fresh. The sod is of very fine texture, and the grass never grows very rank, so that wherever a trench is cut to let off the rain, it remains, with very little alteration, for a great length of time. On the principle that a sovereign of the United States ought never to rank himself below a prince of any other country, I selected a spot a little above the camping-ground of his excellency the Prince Napoleon. By the aid of my guide I soon had the tent pitched. It was a small affair—only an upright pole, a few yards of canvas, and four wooden pins. The whole concern did not weigh twenty pounds, and only covered an area of ground about four feet by six. ZÖega then took the horses to a When ZÖega came back, he said, if I pleased, we would now go to work and cut sods for the Strokhr. It was a favorable time “to see him heave up.” The way to make him do that was to make him sick. Sods always made him sick. They didn’t agree with his stomach. Every gentleman who came here made it a point to stir him up. He was called the Strokhr because he churned things that were thrown down his throat; and Strokhr means churn. I was very anxious to see the performance suggested by ZÖega, and readily consented to assist him in getting the sods. The Strokhr lay about a hundred yards from our tent, nearly in a line between the Great and Little Geysers. Externally it presents no very remarkable feature, being nothing more than a hole in the bed of rocks, about five feet in diameter, and slightly funnel-shaped at the orifice. Standing upon the edge, one can see the water boiling up and whirling over about twenty feet below. A hollow, growling noise is heard, varied by an occasional hiss and rush, as if the contents were struggling to get out. It emits hot vapors, and a slight smell of sulphur; otherwise it maintains rather a peaceful aspect, considering the infernal temper it gets into when disturbed. ZÖega and I worked hard cutting and carrying the sods for nearly half an hour, by which time we had a large pile on the edge of the orifice. ZÖega said there was enough. I insisted on getting more. “Let us give him a dose that he won’t forget.” “Oh, sir, nobody ever puts more than that in; it is quite enough.” “No; I “Sir,” said ZÖega, gravely, “you had better stand away. It comes up very suddenly when it once starts.” “Don’t be afraid, ZÖega; I’ll keep a sharp look-out for it. You may depend there’s not a Geyser in Iceland can catch me when I make a break.” “Very well, sir; but I’d advise you to be careful.” Notwithstanding this good counsel, I could not resist the fascination of looking in. There was another tremendous commotion going on—a roar, a whirling over of the sods, and clouds of steam flying up. This time I ran back a few steps. But it was a false alarm. Nothing came of it. The heaving mass seemed to be producing the desired effect, however. The Strokhr was evidently getting very sick. I looked over once more. All below was a rumbling, tumbling black mass, dashing over and over against the sides of the churn. Soon a threatening roar not to be mistaken startled me. “Look out, sir!” shouted ZÖega; “look out!” Unlike the Frenchman who looked out when he should have looked in, I unconsciously looked in when I should have looked out. With a suddenness that astonished me, up shot the seething “Are you hurt, sir? I hope you’re not hurt!” he cried, in accents of great concern. “Hurt!” I answered. “Didn’t you see me rolling over on the ground laughing at it? Why, ZÖega, I never saw any thing so absurd as that in my life; any decent Geyser would have given at least an hour’s notice. This miserable little wretch went off half cocked. I was just laughing to think how sick we made him all of a sudden!” “Oh, that was it, sir! I thought you were badly hurt.” “Not a bit of it. You never saw a man who had suffered serious bodily injury run and jump with joy, and roll with laughter as I did.” “No, sir, never, now that I come to think of it.” Somehow it was always pleasant to talk with ZÖega, his simplicity was so refreshing. The display was really magnificent. An immense dark column shot into the air to the height of sixty or seventy feet, composed of innumerable jets of water and whirling masses of sod. It resembled a thousand fountains joined together, each with a separate source of expulsion. The hissing hot water, blackened by the boiled clay and turf, spurted up in countless revolving circlets, spreading out in every direction and falling in torrents over the earth, which was deluged for fifty feet around with the dark, steaming flood. This, again sweeping into the mouth of the funnel, fell in thick streams into the churn, carrying with it the sods that were scattered within its The eruption continued for about five minutes without any apparent diminution of force. It then subsided into fitful and convulsive jets, as if making a last effort, and finally disappeared with a deep growl of disappointment. All was now quiet save the gurgling of the murky water as it sought its way back. ZÖega said it was not done yet—that this was only a beginning. I took my sketch-book and resolved to seize the next opportunity for a good view of the eruption, taking, in the mean time, a general outline of the locality, including a glimpse of the Langarfjal. Just as I had finished up to the orifice the same angry roar which had first startled me was repeated, and up shot the dark, boiling flood in grander style than ever. This time it was absolutely fearful. There could be no doubt the dose of sods we had tumbled into the stomach of the old gentleman was making him not only dreadfully sick, but furiously angry. At this moment, as if the elements sympathized in his distress, fierce gusts of wind began to blow down from the Langarfjal. So sudden and violent were they that it was difficult to maintain a foothold in our exposed position; and the tall column of fountains, struck with the full violence of the wind, presented a splendid spectacle of strength and rage—surging, and swaying, and battling to maintain its erect position, and showing in every motion the irresistible power with which it was ejected. Steam, and water, and sods went whirling down into the valley; the very air was darkened with the shriven and scattered currents; and a black deluge fell to the leeward, hundreds of yards beyond the orifice. The weird and barren aspect of the surrounding scenery was never more impressive. “What do you think of the Strokhr, sir?” asked ZÖega, with some pride. “Is it equal to the Geysers of California?” THE STROKHR. I was rather taken aback at the honest bluntness of “Well, ZÖega, to tell you the truth, ours don’t get quite so sick as this, owing, no doubt, to the superior salubrity of our climate. You might throw sods into them all day, and they wouldn’t make such a fuss about it as the Strokhr makes about a mere handful. Their digestion, you see, is a great deal stronger.” “Oh, but wait, sir, till you see the Great Geyser; that’s much better than the Strokhr.” “Doubtless it is very fine, ZÖega. Still I can’t help but think our California Geysers are in a superior condition of health. It is true they smoke a good deal, but I don’t think they impair their digestion by such stimulating food as the Geysers of Iceland. Judging by the eruptions of the Strokhr, I should say he feeds exclusively on fire and water, which would ruin the best stomach in the world.” ZÖega looked troubled. He evidently did not comprehend my figurative style of speech. So the conversation dropped. The column of water ejected from the Strokhr, unlike that of the Great Geyser, is tall and slender, and of almost inky blackness. In the case of the Great Geyser no artificial means interrupt its operations; in that of the Strokhr the pressure of foreign substances produces results not natural to it. After the two eruptions which I have attempted to describe, the waters of the Strokhr again subsided into sobs and convulsive throes. Some half an hour now elapsed before any thing more took place. Then there was another series of growls, and a terrible swashing about down in the churn, as if all the demons under earth were trying to drown one another, and up shot the murky flood for the third time. Thus it continued at intervals more and more remote, till a late hour in the night, making desperate efforts to disgorge the sods that were Having finished my sketch, I returned to the tent, in front of which ZÖega had meantime spread a cloth, with some bread and cheese on it, and such other scraps of provisions as we had. A little boy from the neighboring sheep-ranch brought us down some milk and cream, and I thought if we only had a cup of tea on to warm us up after the chilly wind our supper would be luxurious. “Just in time, sir,” said ZÖega; “I’ll make the tea in a minute.” “Where’s your fire.” “Oh, we don’t need fire here—the hot water is always ready. There’s the big boiler up yonder!” I looked where ZÖega pointed, and saw, about a hundred yards off, a boiling caldron. This was our grand tea-kettle. Upon a nearer inspection, I found that it consisted of two great holes in the rocks, close together, the larger of which was about thirty feet in circumference, and of great depth. The water was as clear as crystal. It was easy to trace the white stratum of rocks, of which the sides were formed, down to the neck of the great shaft through which the water was ejected. Flakes of steam floated off from the surface of the crystal pool, which was generally placid. Only at occasional intervals did it show any symptoms of internal commotion. By dipping my finger down a little way I found that it was boiling hot. Five minutes immersion would be sufficient to skin and boil an entire man. Nature has bountifully put these boilers here for the use of travelers. Not a stick or twig of wood grows within a circuit of many miles, and without fuel of course I found it excellent, and did not, as I apprehended, discover any unpleasant flavor in the water. It may be slightly impregnated with sulphur, though that gives it rather a wholesome smack. To me, however, it tasted very much like any other hot water. SIDE-SADDLE. When I returned to the tent, and sat down to my frugal repast, and ate my bread and cheese, and quaffed the fragrant tea, ZÖega sitting near by respectfully assisting me, something of the old California feeling came over me, and I enjoyed life once more after years of travel through the deserts of civilization in Europe. What a Very little indication of the time was apparent in the sky. The sun still shone brightly, although it was nearly ten o’clock. I did not feel much inclined to sleep, with so many objects of interest around. Apart from that, there was something in this everlasting light that disturbed my nervous system. It becomes really terrible in the course of a few days. The whole order of nature seems reversed. Night has disappeared altogether. Nothing but day remains—dreary, monotonous, perpetual day. You crave the relief of darkness; your spirits, at first exuberant, go down, and still down, till they are below zero; the novelty wears away, and the very light becomes gloomy. People must sleep, nevertheless. With me it was a duty I owed to an overtaxed body. Our tent was rather small for two, and ZÖega asked permission to sleep with an acquaintance who lived in a cabin about two miles distant. This I readily granted. It was something of a novelty to be left in charge of two such distinguished characters as the Great Geyser and the Strokhr. Possibly they might favor me with some extraordinary freaks of humor, such as no other traveler had yet enjoyed. So, bidding ZÖega a kindly farewell for the present, I closed the front of the tent, and tried to persuade myself that it was night. Having tossed and tumbled about for an indefinite length of time, I must have fallen into an uneasy doze. During the day I had been thinking of the rebellion at home, and now gloomy visions disturbed my mind. I thought I saw moving crowds dressed in black, and heard wailing sounds. Funerals passed before me, and women and children wept for the dead. The scene changed, and I saw hosts of men on the battle-field, rushing upon each other and falling in deadly strife. A dreary horror came over me. It was like some dreadful play, in which the stake was human life. Blood was upon the faces of the dying and the dead. In the effort to disentangle the right from the wrong—to seek out a cause for the calamity which had fallen upon us—a racking anguish tortured me, and I vainly strove to regain my scattered senses. Then, in the midst of this confused dream, I heard the booming of cannon—at first far down in the earth, but gradually growing nearer, till, with a start, I awoke. Still the guns boomed! Surely the sounds were real. I could not be deceived. Starting to my feet, I listened. Splashing and surging waters, and dull, heavy reports, sounded in the air. I dashed aside the lining of the tent and looked out. Never shall I forget that sight—the Great Geyser in full eruption! A tremendous volume of water stood in bold relief against the sky, like a tall weeping willow in winter swaying before the wind, and shaking the white frost from its drooping It did not appear to me that the height of the fountain was so great as it is generally represented. So far as I could judge, the greatest altitude at any time from the commencement of the eruption was not over sixty feet. Its volume, however, greatly exceeded my expectations, and the beauty of its form surpassed all description. I had never before seen, and never again expect to see, any thing equal to it. This magnificent display lasted, altogether, about ten minutes. The eruption was somewhat spasmodic in its operation, increasing or diminishing in force at each moment, till, with a sudden dash, all the water that remained was ejected, and then, after a few gurgling throes, all was silent. I no longer attempted to sleep. My mind was bewildered with the wonders of the scene I had just witnessed. All I could do was to make a cup of tea at the big boiler on the slope above my tent, and walk about, after drinking it, to keep my feet warm. Soon the sun’s rays appeared upon the distant mountains. A strange time of the night for the sun to be getting up—only half past one—when people in most other parts of the world are snug in bed, and don’t expect to see a streak of sunshine for at least four or five hours. How different from any thing I had ever before seen was the sunrise in Iceland! No crowing of the cock; no singing of the birds; no merry plow-boys whistling up the horses in the There are various theories concerning the cause of these eruptions of water in Iceland. That of Lyell, the geologist, seems the most reasonable. The earth, as it is well known, increases in heat at a certain ratio corresponding with the depth from the surface. There are cavities in many parts of it, arising from subterranean disturbances, into which the water percolates from the upper strata. In Iceland the probability is that these cavities are both numerous and extensive, owing to volcanic causes, and form large receivers for the water of the surrounding neighborhood. Wherever there is a natural outlet, as at the Geysers, this water, which is boiled by the heat of the earth, is forced to the surface by compression of steam, and remains at the mouth of the pipe, or shaft, until an accumulation of compressed steam drives it up in the form of a fountain. The periodical occurrence of these eruptions in some of the hot-springs and not in others may arise from a difference in the depth of the receiver, or more probably from the existence of several outlets for the escape of steam in some, and only one in others. A good illustration of this theory is presented in the boiling of an ordinary tea-kettle. When the compression of steam is great, the cover is lifted up and the water shoots from the spout, by which means the pressure is relieved and the water subsides. The same thing is repeated until the space within the kettle becomes sufficiently large to admit of a more rapid condensation of the steam. The action of the Strokhr, which, GREAT GEYSER AND RECEIVER. This, I believe, is substantially Lyell’s theory; though, having no books by me at present, I quote entirely from memory, and it is possible I may be mistaken in some of the details. The preceding diagrams will enable the reader to understand more clearly the whole process by which these eruptions are produced. Six long hours remained till ordinary breakfast-time. What was to be done? It was getting terribly lonesome. I felt like one who had been to a theatre and seen all the performances. ZÖega had promised to be back by eight o’clock; but eight o’clock in Iceland, on the 21st of June, is a late hour of the day. A treatise on trigonometry might be written between sunrise and that unapproachable hour. The only thing I could do was to make some more tea and eat a preliminary breakfast. When that was done nothing remained but to go to work in front of my little tent and finish up my rough sketches. This is a very absorbing business, as every body knows who has tried it, and I was deeply into it when ZÖega made his appearance. “Well, sir,” said he, “what success? Did he erupt?” “Of course he erupted, ZÖega. You didn’t suppose a Great Geyser would keep a gentleman all the way from California waiting here an entire night without showing him what he could do?” “No, sir; but he sometimes disappoints travelers. How do you like it? Does he compare with your California Geysers?” “Well, ZÖega, he throws up more hot water, to be sure, because our Geysers don’t erupt at all; but here is the grand difference. We Californians are a moral people; we don’t live so near to (I pointed down below) as you do in Iceland.” “I don’t understand you, sir,” said ZÖega, with a puzzled expression. “Yes, sir.” “Then you are all right. Let us be going. I don’t like this neighborhood.” “Whenever you wish, sir. The horses are all ready.” And ZÖega proceeded to strike the tent and pack the animals, muttering to himself and shaking his head gravely, as if he thought the Californians were a very peculiar race of men, to say the least of them. Another cup of tea and a few biscuits served to brace us up for the journey, and we mounted our horses and turned their heads homeward. Brusa was so delighted at the idea of being en route once more that he signalized our departure by giving chase to a flock of sheep, which he dispersed in a most miraculous manner, and then, of course, received the customary punishment. |