Icelandic Journals

Friday, August 25th, In camp in the home-mead at Thingvellir

Kaldidalur highway

‘Whether it was accident or not I don’t know, but certainly as soon as we had passed Kaldidal going north the weather got much colder . . .’ (IJ p 165)




‘It was getting dusk when we got there, and we had hit the Rift rather high up, so we rode straight down toward the lake along the Rift-side, the great wall with a fantastic coping of clinker ever on our right till we saw at the end of a bight of the lake, an undulating bright green tun with a church and stead on their little mounds, and between us and them a flat green plain with Axewater winding about it most sweetly, till, straightening itself on the Rift-ward side of the stead, it ran straight for the lake widening as it went’ (IJ p 169).