The day started in the rain. It was a perfect opportunity for me to put on my blue cap and look even more ridiculous than I usually do. Yes dear reader, I know you imagine your favorite Owl looking all daring and fabulous, and I am sorry to disappoint you: I look ridiculous. Blue, with sticky feathers in the wind, pants too big, and a big blue cap. I don’t care, because I wear my gaiters, and they make me feel like I’m the coolest, most adventurous of Owls!
The Canyon
Yoan guided us through a crack between two rock walls. The gap was very narrow at places, and we had to take off our backpacks and pass them first, then contort ourselves to slip between the rocks, or climb them, and even once, crawl beneath one. The walls are black, the ground is made of fine black sand, and it’s quite an adventure for a tiny Owl like me! So thrilling that we stopped in the middle, leaning against the walls, sheltered from the rain, for our morning break of cookies and hot tea.
When we start again in what I call the canyon, the walls on each side grow gradually shorter and shorter, but still remaining only wide enough for one person to walk in it. Which means that I have the feeling of growing larger and larger, until I am a gigantic owl walking into a canyon the size of the Great Canyon itself, only black instead of orange. So I’m tall tall tall, so tall I can’t even see the tiny microscopic people!!! Let’s see… I am… not Gulliver, first because his size is normal, also because I don’t like this guy… So I am… Godzilla!! That’s it, I’m Godzilla, and I walk, writhing my tiny arms and roaring, on my way to Tokyo to crush some buildings (I think it’s the job of a Godzilla).
Artist rendering where Godzilla really looks like a Tyrex for some reason
Yoan shakes his head. Indeed, we are only the third day of the trek, and I went from “What is the impact of geothermal energy on the Icelandic economy?” on the first day, to
“OH! A TINY CANYON! AHAH ! I AM GODZILLA RRROAARRR”
The Icy River
I was prepared, and very excited to cross this river ! Beneath the feet, the bed of the stream was so soft, of a grey-brown delicate sand, and the moss on the bank, so spongy and mellow… However, the treacherous water, milky and still, was COLD. COLD. COLD. After the first step – oh no, not so cold – and the second – ouch, icy, ouch – I crossed it quickly, grumbling and growling, then rolled frenetically in the moss, to dry in the sun. Meanwhile, Mathilde, who seems to like the sensation of having goblins gnawing on her calves, was happily frolicking in the water while exclaiming that it was so cool and so pleasant!
What a day… A day where we walk from horizon to horizon, crossing vasts stretches made of ash and moss, in a constantly surprising and magnificent moon-like landscape.
They showed me the valley where some scenes of Prometheus were shot. And yes, it looks like another planet…
May not be the exact spot, but somewhere close…
(For those who have seen the movie: I did some tests, and sure, I didn’t have any spaceship crashing and rolling behind me, but still, I could easily change direction while running, so it is not the site’s fault).
ALIENS ARE NOT PETS! Do NOT feed wild Aliens!! Let the Aliens live free and in peace!
It was also the longest walking day of the trek, more long than difficult, but still, it is a relief to sit down in the shelter.
View from our porch this evening…
My exhaustion this day – easily accounted for – explains without a doubt:
- My fascination for the shelter’s tablecloth (There are Owl families on it !!! An Owl with a moustache under the beak (when everybody knows moustaches are above the beak) !! A single Owl with a round collar!)
- The disparition of a non-negligible quantity of cake, which, my reputation being well-established at this point, was fully attributed to me
- My fall during dinner, caused by a problematical distribution of my backside on a very narrow bench.
- The ethereal, elevated elegance of my notes this day even more than others
Extract from my notes, with the corresponding picture:
And there was another lake with tiny pretty flowers and red and green mountains and black plains.
To be fair, it is technically true.
However, the day was far from finished! At nightfall, the cloudless sky illuminated itself, and incredible northern lights danced for hours, from horizon to horizon… It’s cold, I wrap myself up in everything I have, and add my sleeping bag on top (I even tried to put myself in it and waddle like a blue penguin, then decided against it for safety reasons). I’m so tired, but I fight off sleep as best as I can to watch one minute more… I almost don’t trust my eyes, it is difficult to believe, that I, tiny Owl, can be witness to such a wonder. The guides are amazed too, they say that as Northern Lights go, this is really big, and I feel like the luckiest Owl in this huge splendid universe.
Further away in the campground, Icelanders play golf by the light of their car headlights, laugh loudly, listen to blaring music, and look at it as if it was something nice but commonplace.
I guess that for an Icelander, Northerns Lights are somewhat like snow for Quebecers (admittedly easier to shovel!!): it’s here most of the time, after all.
Maybe right now, this very night, an expatriated Icelander lift his eyes to the bland and polluted sky of Paris, London or New York, and sighs with a heavy heart. At home, says he, when the conditions are auspicious, and the clouds part, at home, the sky dances. Timidly, slowly, a pale white light, iridescent with green and soft pink, diffuses, then intensifies imperceptibly before leaping all over the firmament, radiating it, inundating it… and dances, dances again…
