On the bleak road towards Skaftafell National Park, we stopped for lunch at a massive Calder-looking figure (below). It was the remains of the last bridge that traversed the Skeiðará river. Every decade or so the bridge gets completely destroyed by a subglacial erruption or 'jökulhlaup'.
Here's how the story tends to go: a subglacial lake gets heated up by the volcano Grímvötn below (very well named). The pressure has nowhere to go...except shooting out the side of the glacier with more force than any river in the world. The bridge is continually built to withstand a little more than that the last erruption, and with a certain aplomb nature shows up with just enough to knock it down.
I've linked to a picture of what it looks like on top of the glacier when the volcano is errupting. The pressure actually inverts the crevasses, and they become veins. (here)
A small river flow at the glacier's foot.
An opportunisitc 'clover' patch amid mostly volcanic rock.
Soft sedimentary rocks break apart by expanding water particles. Often they end up like this - broken and intact.
Jokulsarlon is where the glacier and the sea shake hands. A small bay filled with icebergs is fed new chunks by glacier. Each day the tide flows in and takes a few out to sea. We watched the tide come in -- seals and birds quickly gathered to feast on fish towed in by the flow.
We saved a few helpless chunks, otherwised doomed to melt in cruel sea. They were summarily broken and served under Jameson.
By evening (this is probably around 8pm) we arrived at our most Eastern bed. The hostel at Vagnsstaðir had a great sunroom facing the sea. We cooked an exceptional Chicken Tikka Masala, Naan, carrots and enjoyed glacier-chilled scotch.
