Climbing Esja

Yesterday produced the warmest-ever weather on Iceland´s
Independence Day, and all over the island people migrated
to the town squares and community halls for music and
festivities. It´s a humble yet proud country, Iceland. We were
in the town next to Reykjavik to begin with, Mosfellsbær,
where Disa´s folks live. We heard her nephew Gummi play
in his band. It was cool as they even romped through a Ray
Charles medley - I Can´t Stop Loving You, Hallelujah I Love
Her So, What´d I Say, Georgia On My Mind - before playing a
beautiful melody that substitutes as the national anthem
sometimes. The official anthem,which I have yet to hear, is
apparently reserved for those with a multi-octave vocal range.

Afterwards, we came into Reyjavik and headed for the old town
where cars were parked at all angles on lawns and upon sidewalks.
Squeezing into a spot, we headed to the big bandshell beneath the
statue of the Viking discoverer, Ingolfur Arnason, who stands atop
the green hill in warrior pose. A few boys had scaled the statue of
the spear-wielding Viking, and were wrapped legs-akimbo around
his arms and head. When I aimed my camera upward at them, one
of the boys raised his arm in the air and let out a roar. Click. I look
forward toseeing that photo when it´s developed. The music was fun,
mainly family fare, and at one point there were many dads dancing
with young children on their shoulders. The more serious drinking,
the teenagers and loud music would come later into the evening.

We had a drink at a wine bar the other night with Disa´s brother Sverrir
and his lovely partner Guðbjörg. Her first name isloosely pronounced
Guh-vooth-be-erk. Very loosely in my case, but I tell you, once you´ve
got a few drinks in you, the Icelandic comes easier! Guðbjörg informs
me that when they were travelling in the U.S., she told people to call her
Root Beer. I related to Sverrir that when I´d seen his fisherman father
the other day and seen that he was wearing his pocket knife I´d said to
him in Icelandic, "Hniflaus er liflaus." It´s one of those old fisherman
sayings, meaning "Knifeless is lifeless." I was trying to impress him.
Guðmundur is never without a comeback. This time, as I related over
a Stella Artois to Sverrir, his father had outdone himself. He had said
to me, "A fisherman without a knife is like a prostitue without..."
Sverrir laughed and blushed a littlewhen I told him, but muttered,
"That would be my father..."

I am learning to sleep a little better now that I´ve been here a few days.
The midnight sun is confusing to me, though, as I´ve never witnessed
it before. We´re at the Arctic Circle, so it never gets dark at all. From
about eleven at night to two in the morning it´s like a slowly-shifting
sunset, the red and orange of the sky sliding sideways from where the
sun disappeared to the place where it will reappear. You just pull the
blinds closed and bury your head in the pillows, but part of me - the
child in me - wonders why we should ever go to bed while it´s still light.
I´m not alone, I guess, as the streets remain lively long past midnight.
Well, it was the tail end of Independence Day... but I´ve noticed it on
other nights, too. Revelry!

Today, Saturday, Disa had the brilliant idea to climb the heights of
Mount Esja, the snow-adorned mountain we can see from her third-storey
apartment window. We put on our climbing shoes and headed out, a
beautiful 20-minute drive around the coastline to the base of Esja.
The climbing path is anything but smooth, and the volcanic rocks often
give way underfoot. It gets very steep in places, too, and my heart was
soon pounding. We stopped to bathe our feet in the cold running stream,
surrounded by blue- and cream-coloured flowers which I don´t recall
seeing before. Of course, Disa knows the names of them and says them,
but for now I am happy to be resting in the bright sun, just listening to her.

We made it about halfway up the mountain, quite a hike due in parts to its
steepness, the unsteady ground, and my level of fitness. Another time, we
will climb to the very top, about 8,000 meters. Disa appears intent to raise
my health to a better level, and I´m more than willing. She´s having her
second bicycle tweaked a little, too, so that I can go riding off at any time
into the farther reaches of Reykjavik. For now, halfway up Esja, we rest
among the flora. She has her top off, laying back in her brassiere enjoying
the beloved northern sun. Below, far across the valley floor, we can see her
city, the spire ofthe poet Hallgrim´s church rising above old Reykjavik.

DL