Relative Something

Day three had us headed back to the Vatnajökull Glacier again, this time on a tour where we could stand on it, touch it, and even drink from it. It was the second and last guided tour we purchased.

We were fitted for crampons and provided ice picks. While having us fill out our personal information, including any medical concerns they should know about, they offered to take photos of the groups. Even though none of our activities required specially trained responses, both tours we did gave every impression of being well-capable professional guiding companies.

They took our picture again.

We had just ridden in a bus to the point where we needed to start hiking. With a kick of her boot into the gravel, the guide demonstrated how the glacier pushes the rubble up in a ridge which then becomes a lake as the melting happens.

It was a significant hike with a fair amount of vertical gain to reach the ice.

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I looked up and had a flash vision of the photo of climbers waiting in queue to get to the summit of Everest.

Yes, there are a lot of tourists in Iceland. We were tourists, too, so it’s not that I could complain.

The glacier experience was powerful enough, nothing else mattered in the moment. Having this opportunity to step onto such a mass of ice when the drama of our warming planet is melting glaciers to oblivion felt emotionally heavy.

When we reached the gravel transition to gravel-covered ice that soon became just ice, we were given a quick lesson in securely strapping on crampons.

Soon, we were learning about glacier moulins where a weak spot in the ice becomes a pool that drains over time.

Our guide explained that melt water is safe to drink, but it “must be done” by a prone position with our hands on an ice axe. She positioned her axe and demonstrated the pushup position technique before giving us all a chance to try it.

It tasted awesome. She pointed out that the melt water lacks minerals that are contained in well water that has been filtered through the earth into underground aquifers.

Our guide parked us for a moment so she could check on a crevasse to ensure it was still safe enough for us to approach. The height we were allowed to climb on this finger of the glacier was limited to below where serious crevasses were forming.

She also allowed us to step over a deep moulin where, a day or two earlier, she had lost an ice axe. The handle was still visible a few feet down.

The ice scenery was something special to witness. Probably more so because the melting was so significant under the sunny sky this day. This was a privilege that won’t likely be available to future generations.

In 2024, walking on a glacier that is in the process of disappearing before our eyes is a unique experience. I’m really grateful to have had the opportunity.

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