Norðurfari

In Short

This travelogue serves as both an adventurous record and a cultural study of mid-19th-century Iceland. It chronicles the journey of an inquisitive American who navigates the island’s treacherous terrain, examines its unique geology, and engages with its resilient inhabitants. By weaving scientific observation, historical inquiry, and snippets of Norse mythology into a personal narrative, the account captures a moment when Iceland was largely a mystery to the Western world. Its enduring value lies in its candid, unvarnished portrait of a rugged society and a landscape of unparalleled geological intensity.

The Story

The journey begins at sea, where a group of passengers—including a Danish treasurer and a young woman returning home to establish a school—share the cramped, lively quarters of a mail packet. The author, an American, strikes up a rapport with these companions, setting the tone for a trip defined by curiosity and cultural exchange. Upon arriving in Reykjavik, the author finds a settlement modest in its architectural ambitions but rich in its connection to a storied past. From the capital, he mounts a pony and heads into the interior, an undertaking that requires resilience against both unpredictable weather and terrain that often resembles the barren, rocky landscapes of a harsh wilderness.

The arc of the narrative is one of steady immersion into the volcanic heart of the island. The author moves through valleys drained by mighty rivers and across vast, color-shifting fields of lava. Along the way, he encounters the local clergy and farmers, whose hospitality remains constant even when the accommodation is as humble as a church or a farm outbuilding. The narrative reaches its experiential peak during his visit to the geysers and his ascent of Mount Hekla. The geysers, particularly the Strokr, provide a spectacle of raw, explosive power, while the climb up Hekla offers a physically demanding, somewhat hazardous exploration of craters and perennial snowfields.

Throughout the trek, the author bridges his own experience with the weight of history. He delves into the Icelandic sagas, the origins of the Althing, and the mythological framework of the Norse gods, effectively layering the geography with the intellectual heritage of the people who call it home. He is not merely a sightseer; he actively seeks out the literary and historical context of the land, even corresponding with local scholars after his departure.

As the journey concludes, the narrative shifts from the immediate physical challenges of the trail to the lasting impressions of the country’s character. The author leaves the island, but the connections he has formed—both with the people he met and the subjects he studied—remain. He carries with him a collection of Icelandic texts and a deep, appreciative understanding of a nation that persists on the edge of the habitable world. The final chapters reflect on the intellectual life of the islanders, their linguistic ties to the old Scandinavian tongues, and the author’s own reflection on the "checkered journey" he has undergone. It is a slow, thoughtful withdrawal from the wild, marked by the exchange of letters and the preservation of memories that characterize a transformative travel experience.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author sets out from Europe, introducing his diverse company of passengers, including an Icelandic treasurer who is humorously misidentified as a Yankee in an American newspaper. They navigate the sea amidst whales and sharks, dealing with the high-spirited antics of stray livestock that disrupt the peace of the deck.

Arrival and the interior trek Upon landing in Reykjavik, the author transitions from the sea to the saddle, beginning a rigorous ride across the rugged Icelandic countryside. He documents the stark contrast between the green meadows of select farms and the miles of desolate, rock-covered volcanic fields.

The thermal wonders The traveler visits the famous Geysers, where he and his guide provoke the Strokr into eruption using turf and stones. He describes the violent, black-water display with a mix of scientific fascination and irrepressible humor.

Scaling the volcano The narrative climaxes with the difficult ascent of Mount Hekla, where the author navigates through deep snow and treacherous lava craters. He describes the visceral experience of standing on the edge of a precipice, feeling the "fearful pleasure" of the mountain’s height.

Departure and reflection The journey winds down as the author prepares to return to the western world, carrying books and cultural insights. He reflects on the hospitality of the farmers and clergymen who sustained him, concluding with a correspondence that highlights the lasting intellectual bond formed during his stay.

The People

The author, Pliny Miles, acts as the primary lens, functioning as a curious, well-read observer who values scientific inquiry and historical depth. He is frequently accompanied by an unnamed guide who assists with the practicalities of the road, from cutting turf for the geysers to carrying samples of volcanic rock. Together, they form a functional unit, though the author is the one whose internal monologue drives the book.

William Finsen, the island’s treasurer, provides a touch of humor and dignity to the sea voyage; his amusement at being called a "Yankee" highlights the distance between the author’s world and his own. Miss Johnson, a young Icelandic woman, represents the modernizing pulse of the island; her return home to open a school suggests the intellectual aspirations of the people. Throughout the interior, various farmers and clergymen appear, characterized by their "frouzly" hair and their generous, if simple, hospitality. These figures provide the author with food, shelter, and a glimpse into a life lived in harmony with a difficult landscape. They stand in contrast to the historical figures mentioned—the poets, martyrs, and pirates—who provide the mythic background against which the modern inhabitants exist.

In Its Own Voice

The burning chimnies of Ætna, Vesuvius, and Stromboli, have given inspiration to Horace and Virgil, and been minutely described by the pens of Strabo, Diodorus Siculus, and Pliny.

The author contrasts the well-documented volcanoes of the Mediterranean with the relatively unknown geological giants of Iceland.

I had my guide cut up a quantity of turf with a spade, and, piling them up on the margin, we threw them—several bushels at a time—down the well of the Strokr.

The author describes the process of agitating the geyser to force an eruption.

“Magnificent forests,” “fields of waving grain,” and all that, may exist in western New York, in old Virginia, or in California; but not in Iceland.

The author manages expectations regarding the agricultural fertility of the landscape.

What It's Really About

The book explores the interplay between a harsh, volcanic environment and the endurance of human culture. It asks how a people can maintain a rich intellectual tradition—steeped in sagas, mythology, and linguistic precision—while living in a land where nature remains in its "wildest moods." There is an underlying argument for the value of the "moral North," where the ruggedness of the land fosters a distinct, resilient character. The author also grapples with the curiosity of the American spirit, contrasting it with the "incurious" nature of the Icelanders who live atop geological wonders that a Yankee would surely try to harness for industry.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy 19th-century travelogues—those that value observation over quick-paced plot—will find this a rewarding companion. The prose is atmospheric, capturing both the "fearful pleasure" of mountain climbs and the quiet, intimate details of sleeping under eiderdown in a remote church. It is a slow, contemplative read that invites you to inhabit the landscape alongside the author.

However, readers should be prepared for the period attitudes embedded in the text. The author’s reflections on the inhabitants, while generally respectful, occasionally mirror the 1850s fascination with physiognomy and ethnic categorization, particularly regarding the historical origins of the different social castes. Additionally, the book includes dense, technical passages on geography and linguistic history that may feel like a departure from the narrative. Despite these challenges, the book rewards the patient reader with a vivid, historical window into a place that, even today, retains the sense of wild mystery the author so clearly admired. It stays with you as a testament to the enduring power of a landscape to shape the mind of the traveler.