Home of the sun

This is Sólheimajökull.  We weren't allowed to hike across it by our guide, Sif, until we could say its name properly.  Much stumbling over Icelandic pronunciation later, we were allowed.

Sif is in one of the extra photos for scale.

If you think glaciers are white or blue, you'd be partially right.  There's a lot of crushed mountain in them and, because it's Iceland, a lot of volcanic ash.  That means they're really quite black.

The cones are dirt cones.  A layer of dirt insulates the ice, so that when the ice around the dirt melts, the ice under it doesn't, and it forms a cone.  It's like a mini-mountain, but in reverse.

The picture with the glacier in the distance shows how much the glacier has shrunk: only a few years ago, it reached the point I was standing only a few years ago.  See the picture of the information board for facts and figures.

Sif says she'll open a kayak centre in the lagoon once the glacier has melted.

When we got to the little stream shown in one of the extra photos, Sif said we could drink it and that it was really really pure.  It was lovely: crystal clear and refreshing.  I'd recommend you use a receptacle that isn't your hand to drink it: my hand nearly froze off.

The man standing beside the big sinkhole in one of the extra photos was my hero.  The way to and from the glacier was a trek down a steep, scary trail and back up again — it's the gap between the brownish ground and the dirty ice in one of the extra photos.  On the way back off the glacier, I froze: the trail seemed too steep with no footholds.  The guide came back to help me, but by then, the man had grabbed my hand and whisked me up the slope before I knew what was happening.  *swoon*