I do not know that I can give you a better notion of the appearance of the place than by saying that it looked as if--for about a quarter of a mile--the ground had been honey-combed by disease into numerous sores and orifices;not a blade of grass grew on its hot,inflamed surface,which consisted of unwholesome-looking red livid clay,or crumpled shreds and shards of slough-like incrustations.
Naturally enough,our first impulse on dismounting was to scamper off at once to the Great Geysir.As it lay at the furthest end of the congeries of hot springs,in order to reach it we had to run the gauntlet of all the pools of boiling water and scalding quagmires of soft clay that intervened,and consequently arrived on the spot with our ankles nicely poulticed.But the occasion justified our eagerness.A smooth silicious basin,seventy-two feet in diameter and four feet deep,with a hole at the bottom as in a washing-basin on board a steamer,stood before us brimful of water just upon the simmer;while up into the air above our heads rose a great column of vapour,looking as if it was going to turn into the Fisherman's Genie.The ground about the brim was composed of layers of incrusted silica,like the outside of an oyster,sloping gently down on all sides from the edge of the basin.
[Figure:fig-p067.gif with caption A Basin.
B Funnel.]
Having satisfied our curiosity with this cursory inspection of what we had come so far to see,hunger compelled us to look about with great anxiety for the cook;and you may fancy our delight at seeing that functionary in the very act of dishing up dinner on a neighbouring hillock.
Sent forward at an early hour,under the chaperonage of a guide,he had arrived about two hours before us,and seizing with a general's eye the key of the position,at once turned an idle babbling little Geysir into a camp-kettle,dug a bake-house in the hot soft clay,and improvising a kitchen-range at a neighbouring vent,had made himself completely master of the situation.It was about one o'clock in the morning when we sat down to dinner,and as light as day.
As the baggage-train with our tents and beds had not yet arrived,we fully appreciated our luck in being treated to so dry a night;and having eaten everything we could lay hands on,were sat quietly down to chess,and coffee brewed in Geysir water;when suddenly it seemed as if beneath our very feet a quantity of subterraneous cannon were going off;the whole earth shook,and Sigurdr,starting to his feet,upset the chess-board (I was just beginning to get the best of the game),and flung off full speed towards the great basin.By the time we reached its brim,however,the noise had ceased,and all we could see was a slight movement in the centre,as if an angel had passed by and troubled the water.Irritated at this false alarm,we determined to revenge ourselves by going and tormenting the Strokr.Strokr--or the churn--you must know,is an unfortunate Geysir,with so little command over his temper and his stomach,that you can get a rise out of him whenever you like.All that is necessary is to collect a quantity of sods,and throw them down his funnel.As he has no basin to protect him from these liberties,you can approach to the very edge of the pipe,about five feet in diameter,and look down at the boiling water which is perpetually seething at the bottom.In a few minutes the dose of turf you have just administered begins to disagree with him;he works himself up into an awful passion--tormented by the qualms of incipient sickness,he groans and hisses,and boils up,and spits at you with malicious vehemence,until at last,with a roar of mingled pain and rage,he throws up into the air a column of water forty feet high,which carries with it all the sods that have been chucked in,and scatters them scalded and half-digested at your feet.
So irritated has the poor thing's stomach become by the discipline it has undergone,that even long after all the foreign matter has been thrown off,it goes on retching and sputtering,until at last nature is exhausted,when,sobbing and sighing to itself,it sinks back into the bottom of its den.
Put into the highest spirits by the success of this performance,we turned away to examine the remaining springs.I do not know,however,that any of the rest are worthy of particular mention.They all resemble in character the two I have described,the only difference being that they are infinitely smaller,and of much less power and importance.One other remarkable formation in the neighbourhood must not be passed unnoticed.Imagine a large irregular opening in the surface of the soft white clay,filled to the very brim with scalding water,perfectly still,and of as bright a blue as that of the Grotto Azzuro at Capri,through whose transparent depths you can see down into the mouth of a vast subaqueous cavern,which runs,Heaven knows how far,in a horizontal direction beneath your feet.Its walls and varied cavities really looked as if they were built of the purest lupis lazuli--and so thin seemed the crust that roofed it in,we almost fancied it might break through,and tumble us all into the fearful beautiful bath.
Having by this time taken a pretty good look at the principal features of our new domain,I wrapped myself up in a cloak and went to sleep;leaving orders that Ishould not be called until after the tent had arrived,and our beds were ready.Sigurdr followed my example,but the Doctor went out shooting.
