Today's Question What should you do if you get lost driving in a snow storm? answer 
Today's Question Can I really damage a coral reef with sunscreen while snorkeling? answer 
Online FavoritesSpecial Issues
Photo Galleries |
The Hard Way Freezer Burn (Cont.) ICELANDERS ARE NORSEMEN, so ice runs in their blood. But thanks to geographical circumstance, Icelanders are also hot-pool aficionados. You don't plan an Iceland adventure without periodic steam cleanings in the countless hot springs that bubble up in the country. The next evening, on a remote gravel road, Karl asks me if I've "ever wanted to swim from America to Europe." "Swim? The Atlantic?" Maybe he has me confused with a hardcore athlete. He stops the jeep, gets out, and starts off down a path that leads through a tar-black moonscape of pocked lava to a deep fissure. A series of ladders descend into the crack. Forty feet below the surface, a hot, deep, five-foot-wide river runs between walls of solid lava. Karl drops his clothes and slides in as easily as a big seal. He spreads his arms, one hand touching each wall. "America. Europe." Iceland straddles the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Indeed, it is the spreading apart of the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates and the concomitant volcanic activity that created the island 100 million years ago. Karl explains that Iceland experiences more than 400 earthquakes a year, although most of them can't be felt. Geothermal heat warms 80 percent of the country's homes. The four of us lounge in the Grjotagja fissure until our muscles turn to jelly, then drive across the forbidding Askja landscape, one of the largest lava deserts in the world.
This cave is nothing like Langjökull. One of the largest warm caves in existence, it lies on the other side of Iceland along the northern edge of the mammoth Vatnajökull glacier. The entrance is A-shaped, the apex 50 feet above a steaming river, the sidewalls peeling off in gigantic seracs. Karl and I walk into the cave. Within minutes, it's so dark and so saturated with steam that, even with headlamps, neither of us can see our boots. We clamber forward, allowing our feet to find their own footing along the bottom of the river. Sometimes we stumble into a waist-deep hole of swirling warm water, unable to see it, only feel it. The roar of the river bouncing off the unseen walls of the cave makes it impossible to talk. We simply stay within arm's reach of each other, trading leads when we encounter an invisible barrier, allowing our senses of hearing and touch to guide us. We can tell the cave is constricting by the diminishing echo of the sound of the water. Deep inside, we come upon a rock wall we delicately climb by feel. At the top we hunch under a ceiling of ice. Warm water flows through a two-foot-high hole in front of us. Going farther will require sliding on our bellies. Plus, I'm suddenly aware that something is seriously wrong. My head is throbbing, and I can't catch my breath. My lungs feel like they're being flattened. "Karl," I croak groggily, shaking his sleeve. "I can't breathe." I can hear Karl gulping for air. "Mark, it's CO2. We are being poisoned. We should perhaps turn back now." Without another word, we scramble down the rock and begin splashing our way back out of the black tunnel of ice.
|
Ski Resort Finderadvertisement
 
 
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
More From Outside Online
Outside Exclusives
Ask the Experts
Outside Features
Outside Photo Galleries
Top Gear
- Climbing Gear Reviews
- Mountain Bike Reviews
- Ski Gear Reviews
- Sleeping Bag Reviews
- Trail Runner Reviews
Personalities & Profiles
Outside Blogs
Outside Classics
- Home |
- Travel |
- Gear |
- Bodywork |
- Culture |
- Videos |
- Ski |
- Photos |
- Archives |
- Feedback |
- RSS Feeds |
- Subscribe to Outside Magazine
©1994-2009 Mariah Media Inc. All rights reserved.
Reproduction of material from any pages without written permission is strictly prohibited.
Reproduction of material from any pages without written permission is strictly prohibited.