It is a well-known fact that if you want something to happen, it usually doesn’t. But sometimes, if you practice Wu Wei according to Gnarr, or the concept of ‘let it happen’ or ‘non-intervention’, then you are not fighting nor directing energy into anything but allowing it to happen. His examples are referring to judo and how he used this concept in politics: don’t put up any resistance, give way, and let negative energies or destructive power sweep over you and use your attackers own energy against them.

I am a patient, fairly positive and optimistic person but, like any human, also prone to deep doubt, thinking the worst, sometimes to the point of getting overwrought, although this is changing. I can now sit next to an aeroplane window without freaking out. I can now relax on take-off. I can now tolerate turbulence without feeling sick (I still have plenty of my travel calm pills sitting in my bag unused). Heights are bothering me less and less.

I am certain its because I am less stressed than I have been for many years (although travel has its own stressors, quitting your job to go travelling helps this!) In addition, I have tried to reduce major tensions and burdens in my life over time, but also I wanted to face and overcome some fears on this trip (flying and heights being the two main ones). I am less strained and nervous, more into allowing things to wash over me, relinquishing control, and not worrying about worrying now. Like Gnarr’s concept of Wu Wei, I realise that I use it myself in the sense of letting things flow more; planning stuff but not getting angry or upset if things don’t go to plan. So it was with Iceland and seeing the Northern Lights. I really, really wanted to see them here and I knew that September might be a good time. But with the cloudy skies all day and night, and the rain, I accepted that my chances of seeing them were zero. I was disappointed but knew it may happen sometime in the future, maybe next time I visit or if I come to live in Iceland.

So I took solace in the last tour of my stay – another day in the countryside covering what is known as the Golden Circle – but the end-of-day bonus was a soak in a hot lagoon (therefore, called the Hot Golden Circle); a perfect end to a cold, wet, and windy week.

 

I had a leisurely pick up time but I ended up being the last person on a full 20 seater bus. When I entered I had to squeeze myself in the back seat between people and I didn’t even have enough room to rest my shoulders back on my own seat, nor put my bag anywhere. I had visions of a crappy day ahead squashed in the back row without even being able to see out of the nearest window. Plus it is raining, and threatening to continue all day.

Our driver/guide drove north-east out of Reykjavik and had to stop briefly for petrol. I exited the bus trying to get as much fresh air as possible before returning to my squish position when I noticed the single front folding seat, which is at the entry stairs into the bus and enables people to get in and out of the bus, was empty. I asked the driver if I could sit there and he said, sure. The downside was that I had to fold up my seat and be the first out each stop, and the last in, but the upside was I had a great front window seat view, somewhere for my bag, I could sit properly in my chair, and could chat to the driver if necessary. Plus no annoying seat partner, or squishing involved. Bonus! Now my day would be a breeze.

The driver’s commentary was not in a mild, lilting voice like the previous man. In fact this guy came across as quite a serious person, and his voice was a deep monotone. Although he had interesting things to say, it was a bit like listening to a broken radio. But once he warmed up he started with the dry Icelandic humour and people started to enjoy it. He told us about the hardy Icelandic horse and how they are kept outdoors – not stabled – so that they are not coddled and get used to all the types of weather here. Another point to note was that it is illegal to crossbreed them from outside Iceland. Apparently they came to Iceland from Mongolia via Norway, as they are a similar breed to the Mongolian horses.

 

He told us of the sagas and the original settlement in the late 800s and how those settlers, over time, cut down all the forests for firewood and housing. Of course this added to the wind chill factor as there were no forests to stop or redirect the wind, which is probably why it is so cold and barren in some areas (separate from the earthquakes/volcanoes/geo-thermal activity). There are now some regrowth forests of trees brought across from Siberia and Norway. He joked that if you get lost in the forest in Iceland, just stand up.

We stop inside þingvellir (Þ is a TH sound and they roll their ‘r’ – very Irish sounding) National Park at an amazing vista of Laugarvatn Lake, the largest lake in Iceland and site of the joining of the European and American continental plates, with their subsequent volcanic activity and creation of a rift valley that extends further into the park. Later we will see the fissure that was created.

The sun attempts to escape the clutch of nearby clouds and the ensuing cat-and-mouse game between them forms a dramatic backdrop to the vista. Of course, it is raining in the distance and will shortly reach us I’m sure, but at least the sun is trying. Meanwhile, as we are on a point, we are being severely buffeted by the wind.

Next is the rift valley. Its craggy look appealed to the makers of Game of Thrones as they filmed some of series 4 here. We arrive to a freezing rain – it has caught up to us – and it’s blowing a gale, then it calms a little for a quick trek between the fissure’s cliffs.  I love how the bright colours of the plants and mosses come out after rain.  I’m so happy I am getting to see the country on a clear-ish day, finally, even though getting wet is a constant.

Back in the bus all my belongings are getting rained on as they are near the open door, while we wait for stragglers caught in the downpour. As we leave the rift valley we are given a gift of a double rainbow. We are still driving within the park and now veer towards Geyser Strokkur, a series of geysers one of which erupts every 5 minutes, found in a geo-thermal area of the park. A lunch break follows, where there is a gift shop. Did I mention that gift shops are dangerous? I find it difficult to go by them without buying some memento or three. The tables and shelves are full of puffin and elf trinkets which are hard to resist. But I have to remember my luggage weight allowance for the entire trip.

 

After lunch, we visit the famous Gullfoss Waterfall, a magnificent and distinctive cascade that, on sunny days, often comes with a gorgeous rainbow attached. Its claim to fame is that the daughter of the farmer who lived here all her life threatened to throw herself off the waterfall if her father sold it to a bigger corporation; he didn’t and she didn’t and it’s now a tale for the underdog. I get to stand almost at the edge of the cascade cliff! Is my phobia  lessening? Even though I am wearing four layers including thermals, I am freezing from wind chill. We are all wet from rain and now wetter from spray, but well worth it.

 

 

After all the getting in and out of the bus and getting wet then dry then wet, it is a relief to know that our last stop,the Secret Lagoon, is next, a pool naturally heated by geo-thermal water. We have all brought our swimming costume, but some baulk at the Icelandic idea of stripping off completely to shower before wearing swimmers into the lagoon. It is a freezing dash from the indoor shower to the pool steps but I can feel my blood warming from the feet up, and my whole body thawing out, as I immerse myself into the opaque water. It is enormous – at least 50m x 50m – and not deep so I find an underwater boulder to perch on to remain submerged. We have an hour here, our final stop; a great end to the day. The next day I pack and rest and then fly out over Eyjafjallajökull into a clearing dramatic skyscape and my final glimpse of Iceland, and my last taste of Icelandic humour.

 

 

I have breathed in lungfuls of the fresh Arctic air, been almost knocked over by the wind, and been drenched by the rain – all within a few moments of each other – but, above all, I have been entranced by Iceland: its abstract cloud art, its rugged landscape, its awesome ice, its charming people, its cool and crazy language, its welcoming atmosphere. There is no question that I will return.

 

But wait, there’s more. You know how I wasn’t expecting it and allowed the disappointment to wash over me? Our driver convinced me to book in for another tour later that night. Even as our new group drove to our target point I was annoyed at myself for going along, knowing for certain (because I wanted it so much) that it would not happen. In other words, no Wu Wei was working for me.

But after waiting for hours in the freezing wind and rain the cloud obscured the moon, the sky above us cleared, and it did happen. At 1230 a.m., the night before, or rather day of my flight out,  I saw the Northern Lights do a little shimmery dance across the heavens. Thank you Iceland. Takk.

 

[Apologies: I am an amateur photographer and at present the only camera that I use, and have ever used on this trip, is the one that is part of my smartphone. I’m still getting used to its capabilities, so these photos were the best I could do at the time but they do no justice to the superlative and incomparable spectacle of the Aurora borealis I witnessed.]