Journey to Nyidalur across Sprengisandur

Journey to Nyidalur

A second waterfall stands very beautiful with tall hexagonal columns and graceful tons of water sliding and pummelling its bed of basalt. The maelstrom beneath is pale green bursting with power as if not knowing what to do with itself, spuming and foaming and would kill a person with its sheer pounding mincing force instantly.

The little bus powers on, across the stony desert, the most barren place I have been. For eighty kilometres there is nothing. Nothing at all. The land is grey, flat, with a fine gravel over it, slightly dome shaped. There are no animals, no birds, no plants, no moss. The only motion is the occasional long plume of dust from a vehicle, or a Jeep crossing a stream that suddenly has great flaring wings of translucent orange as the coloured water flowers up around it. By contrast, our bus goes slowly through the crossings, leaving little splash. Once the bus jolted so hard that Jim bounced up to the ceiling and hit his head.

When it got too jolty to write, I made desert drawings, letting the jarring motions direct the pencil. They look like a new kind of writing.

DSCF3367 DSCF3366 DSCF3361 DSCF3358 DSCF3357 DSCF3356 DSCF3351 DSCF3345 DSCF3341 DSCF3339

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s