Ultima Thule

In Short

Sir Richard Francis Burton’s Ultima Thule; or, A Summer in Iceland (Volume II) is a detailed account of an 1872 expedition through the island’s interior and coastal waters, focusing heavily on its natural history, geography, and industrial potential. Burton journeys across volcanic fields, ascending mountains and surveying hot springs from Reykjavik to Mý-vatn and the eastern fjords. Along the way, he strips away the romanticism of earlier travelers to rigorously examine Iceland's actual economic capacity—particularly its sulfur beds. The work endures as a masterclass in Victorian travel literature, blending sharp personal observations, scientific measurements, and historical analysis into an unvarnished portal to an unforgiving land.

The Story

Burton begins his summer journey in Reykjavik, where the departure of mail steamers regularly plunges the small capital back into a quiet, frozen isolation. Disappointed by the dreary weather and fickle, biting winds, he wastes little time in the town before setting out to survey the surrounding region. He explores nearby coastal islands like Engey to observe the habits of eider ducks and local farming practices, and he climbs the flanks of Mt. Esja, observing its stark lava formations, snow-filled couloirs, and deep volcanic gorges. Burton approaches the landscape with a surveyor’s eye, noting how every mountain ridge, lava-run, and river network shapes human settlement and travel.

Setting out on sea and land routes to explore the broader island, Burton travels northward and eastward aboard coastal steamers and on horseback. He navigates the deep inlets of the north-western fjords, passing barren trap cliffs and isolated farming settlements built on tumuli to survive spring torrents. His journey takes him inland toward the famous volcanic features of Hekla and the Geysir fields. Crossing rivers on swimming ponies, Burton arrives at the parsonage of Stóruvellir and moves onward through swampy deltas and lava-dykes, constantly battling driving rains and raw July winds. At the thermal fields of Thikku-hverar and the Solfatara of Mý-vatn, he catalog-documents the endless array of spluttering mud caldrons, steam vents, and colorful sinter deposits. Burton remains entirely unawed by the terrifying reputations these sites hold in popular travelogues, noting that the abysses are rarely more than three feet deep and that the danger is vastly exaggerated.

The central thrust of the expedition revolves around the economic appraisal of Iceland's sulfur mines, particularly those around Krísuvík, Krafla, and Mý-vatn. Burton investigates the vast beds of mineral earth, noting how past mismanagements—such as trampling the loose ground or failing to clear topsoil—have degraded the purity of the sublimated deposits. He analyzes the commercial feasibility of extracting sulfur to supply British industrial needs, comparing Iceland’s volcanic output to that of Sicily, Transylvania, and the Red Sea. Through formal leasing contracts, chemical analyses, and comparative mining reports, he argues that systematic extraction and modern distillation techniques could turn the island into a critical mineral source.

Returning eastward toward Djúpivogr via rugged mountain passes and river valleys, Burton documents the social life of the islanders. He attends a lively wedding feast at a rural parsonage, engaging in Latin toasts and lively debates with local priests, student scholars, and landholders. As the summer draws to a close, Burton concludes his narrative with a comprehensive collection of mining reports, legal documents, and historical notes. The book closes not on a dramatic personal note, but on an industrial argument: that as European armaments and chemical industries expand, Iceland's raw volcanic wealth offers a vital, untapped resource for the modern world.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins Burton describes the bleak, fickle summer weather of Reykjavik after the mail steamers depart, leaving the town in solitude. He surveys the nearby islands and climbs Mt. Esja, recording precise temperature readings and lava formations.

Heading inland Traveling with local guides and pack horses, the expedition crosses treacherous rivers and dismal, hummocky moors toward Hekla. Burton observes rural farms, local livestock, and the traditional methods used to drive ponies across broad, cold floods.

Surveying the boiling vents Arriving at the geothermal fields of Thikku-hverar and the Geysir district, Burton catalog-documents dozens of bubbling mud caldrons and steam jets. He demystifies the region, downplaying the legendary dangers reported by earlier English tourists.

Trekking to the eastern wilderness The party pushes across mountain passes like Breiðdalsheiði and through the valley of Skriðdalr, navigating red bogs and rocky riverbeds. Burton observes the local agricultural life, noting the unhurried routines of haymakers and farm servants.

Investigating the sulfur beds At Mý-vatn and Krafla, Burton conducts a thorough inspection of the solfataras and sulfur deposits. He details how improper digging techniques damage the mines and outlines plans for industrial-scale extraction.

Reflections and return After attending a raucous wedding celebration with local clergy at Valthiófstaðir, Burton completes his journey at Djúpivogr. He concludes the volume with official leasing contracts, chemical analyses, and comparative essays on global sulfur production.

The People

Sir Richard Francis Burton The author and chief explorer, Burton seeks to evaluate Iceland's real economic potential rather than recount romanticized folklore. Armed with scientific instruments and a critical eye, he resists overstated dangers, meticulously measures geographic features, and advocates for British investment in the island's mineral deposits.

Captain A. W. Müller A young lieutenant in the Norwegian navy commanding the postal steamer, Müller manages his vessel with disciplined efficiency. His cheerful disposition, bright brasses, and clean decks win the warm praise of Burton and the other passengers.

Prófastr Sigurður Gunnarson A well-educated, portly archdeacon of Hallormstaðir, Gunnarson is an experienced explorer of the Vatnajökull interior. He provides Burton with valuable geographical coordinates, accurate descriptions of distant volcanic formations, and pleasant Latin conversation.

Hr Christian Magnússon A prosperous farmer on the island of Engey near Reykjavik, Magnússon manages an extensive eider-down enterprise. Living close to the capital, he maintains a businessman's independence, superintending his grounds strewn with fish remains and eider nests.

Alfred G. Lock An English entrepreneur whose 50-year leasing contract with the Danish government is documented in the volume. Lock seeks exclusive rights to work the major state-owned sulfur mines in northern and eastern Iceland, embodying the commercial interests Burton promotes.

In Its Own Voice

"The Reykjavik climate is essentially fickle, and the invalid can rarely neglect, till late summer, the warm overcoat of which the cicerone at St Petersburgh persistently reminds his charges."

Burton sets the tone for his journey by stripping away any romantic notions of an idyllic northern summer.

"The infernal concert of flip-flopping, spluttering, welling, fizzing, grunting, rumbling, and growling never ceases."

Describing the geothermal activity at Thikku-hverar, Burton captures the chaotic energy of the island's landscape.

"Perhaps the conviction that the 'abyss' here rarely exceeds in depth three feet, where it meets with the ground-rock, Palagonite, may account for our exceptional calmness."

Burton dryly mocks previous travelers who exaggerated the mortal danger of walking among the hot springs.

What It's Really About

Beneath its surface as a travel narrative, Ultima Thule is an aggressive argument for economic realism and empirical observation over romantic sentimentality. Burton repeatedly attacks the grand exaggerations of earlier travel writers who depicted Iceland as an unapproachable land of terrifying wonders. Instead, he treats the island as a complex, underutilized territory whose harsh environment can be understood through chemistry, geology, and cold analysis.

The book also addresses the geopolitical and industrial imperatives of the late nineteenth century. Burton views sulfur not merely as a mineral curiosity, but as an indispensable military and industrial commodity required for gunpowder, sulphuric acid, and manufacturing. By comparing Iceland’s deposits with those of Sicily and Transylvania, Burton argues that Britain must secure diversified raw material sources. At its core, the text questions how modern scientific methods and capital can transform an isolated, weather-beaten periphery into a vital participant in global commerce.

Why Read It Today

Ultima Thule will appeal to readers who enjoy unsentimental exploration literature, historical geography, and sharp, dry Victorian wit. Unlike typical travelogues that lean on dramatic embellishment, Burton's prose is dense with exact observation, historical reference, and wry commentary on human behavior. Reading it feels like joining an exceedingly intelligent, thoroughly opinionated companion who is entirely immune to discomfort and deeply suspicious of popular consensus.

The book does present distinct challenges for the modern reader. Burton writes with an uncompromising density, scattering untranslated Latin phrases, technical mineralogical terms, regional dialects, and extensive geographic measurements throughout the text. Furthermore, his classic Victorian attitudes toward local customs can border on the blunt or cynical. Yet what stays with you is the sheer vigor of his intellect and the crisp visual quality of his landscape descriptions—from the raw, sulfurous vents of Mý-vatn to the bleak, wind-swept lava fields that define the Icelandic interior.