“…Imagine the tons of water right above our heads…”
Marcie felt she had to do something. “Hey, Spencer,” she asked, “think about all the cars that pass through here every day—without incident.”
“What are you implying, Marcie? You think I’m scared? Goin’ into the tunnel just took me by surprise, that’s all. I been tru’ the Lincoln tunnel plenty ‘a times. It’s no big deal. Just mind your own business, will ‘ya?”
Marcie wanted to protest, but held her tongue. Calling attention to his plight would itself do the job. She figured Spencer would fight to maintain control over his emotions in order to avoid embarrassment. They rode in silence for several minutes. The road was now flat and straight, a featureless void seemingly without end.
“Sure is dark in here. In New York the tunnels are well lit. You’d think they’d put a few lights in this place.”
“I’m sure the driver can see where he’s going,” Marcie replied wearily. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever driven through a tunnel before. There are none around Albany.”
“Humpf, Albany. It’s more like ‘Small-bany’ ‘ya ask me. S’not a city, just a town.”
Marcie was mildly offended. She was proud of her hometown. “It is the State Capital, Spence.”
“I know; what a mistake. They should’a made New York the capital. I mean, really, that’s where all the people are. Governors only go to ‘Small-bany’ to give a speech once in a while. The rest ‘a the time they’re in the city. They hardly eveh spend time in the Governor’s Mansion.”
“Patterson did.”
“Yeah, whateveh.”
Jocelyn giggled again. She and Jack appeared to be having a good time. The sound grated on Marcie’s nerves. This trip was taking a turn for the worse. The thought of spending three months with a snide, claustrophobic city boy; a spiteful, southern dilettante; and a hunk who barely acknowledged her existence, dampened her enthusiasm. I just have to get through this as best I can, she sighed. Maybe the work itself will be really interesting.
The final stretch of tunnel led upwards toward the proverbial light at the end. Growing ever brighter, the exit beckoned them into a world of bright sunlight and turquoise sky. The psychological effect was palpable. Marcie’s melancholy and Spencer’s fear evaporated as the somber, brooding tunnel blackness gave way to an incredible landscape. Most conversation in the bus stopped as its inhabitants, visitors and locals alike, gazed appreciatively out the windows.
For the next thirty miles the highway followed the rugged, undulating Icelandic coast. Majestic cobalt-blue fjords lay to the west. Off to the right, lush, sprawling hills stretched far into the distance, yielding to permanently snow-capped mountains along the horizon. Rivers, with the occasional breathtaking waterfall, rushed under the bridges they crossed, thundering and churning on their way to the sea.
The coastal vistas soon gave way to rolling hills as the road cut across the Snaefellsnes Peninsula. When the ocean once again came into view, the bus hung a left at an isolated crossroads and followed another coastal road into the quaint fishing village of Olafsvik.
“This is the end of the line for us,” Morgan announced cheerfully.
Perhaps a dozen people, including the Eviskar group, debarked and crowded around the driver and an assistant who unloaded their belongings from the baggage compartment of the bus. Within minutes the bus was gone, heading for other maritime communities along the country’s northwest coast.
Across the street from the bus stop was a small hotel/restaurant. They all headed inside to use the facilities and get a bite to eat before the ship arrived.
* * *
“Anybody up for a hike?” Debbie was stuffing several fresh pastries into her backpack. “There’s a long boat ride ahead of us, guys; this will be your last opportunity to stretch your legs before we get to the island.” They were relaxing by the fireplace in the restaurant’s small dining area. The kitchen featured a marvelous bakery, and the weary travelers were finishing a sumptuous snack of fresh Icelandic cakes and tarts, washing them down with thick, creamy hot chocolate.
“I’m game.” Marcie was on her feet. Grinning broadly, she too started zipping up her backpack in preparation for an outing.
“Go ahead and leave your pack here, Marcie. Morgan is going to stay and watch our stuff. I’ll carry everything we need for the hike. Just hand me your water bottle. Anybody else?”
“What the heck, count me in,” Spencer replied. “I gotta burn off some ‘a these calories.”
Only when Jack moved to join the expedition did Jocelyn rise from her chair with an audible moan.
“Good, you’ll all appreciate the exercise. When you get a look at some of the local scenery, you’ll be glad you came.” Addressing her husband, Debbie said, “You’re in charge here, sweetie. We’ll be back soon.”
“Keep an eye out for the ship,” Morgan warned, “Remember, they’re only stopping briefly to pick us up. I don’t want to antagonize the captain or wear out our welcome. Transport to Eviskar is difficult to come by.”
“Understood. We’ll be back to help carry the gear to the dock.”
Debbie led the group out through the hotel’s main entrance and turned eastward along the main thoroughfare. The route took them past several marinas containing boats of all shapes and sizes. Most were fishing craft, but smaller, pleasure boats sat interspersed among them, their sterns displaying names the Americans couldn’t interpret.
Commercial buildings lined jetties all along the harbor. Some had large, open bays that revealed more boats sitting in dry dock. Others were obviously fish processing facilities, their function divulged by the pungent aromas wafting in on the offshore breeze.
Turning inland, Debbie took a side street through a residential area. The road wound uphill through a neighborhood of small wood-frame houses painted in a bright rainbow of colors. A quarter mile from the sea, the road, and the town, ended abruptly. A signpost marked the beginning of a trail that wound southward towards a promontory that overlooked the bay.
“I fell in love with Olafsvik when we came through last year,” Debbie mentioned. She was slightly out of breath because the slope of the path they were on had increased significantly. “It’s not just a scenic fishing village. I wanted to bring you all out here to see the view from the crest of that hill up ahead.” After a glance back at the harbor, she continued the climb. “What Morgan said about the boat is important. It’s an ocean-going military craft that patrols along the west coast of Greenland. They’re scheduled to arrive in about four hours, and we have to be at the dock, waiting, when they pull in. Although it flies the Danish flag, many of the crew are Greenlanders, and it’s only because the Eviskar dig is important to Greenland’s authorities that we’re allowed to hitch a ride.”
“You mean, the boat has, like, guns ‘n stuff? It’s part of the Navy?” Spencer tuned in to what she’d just said. Although he’d seen US naval vessels in the New York harbor, he’d never imagined sailing on one.
“Yes, but the bad news is that means our accommodations will be quite Spartan. This will be no luxury cruise. The good news is that we won’t have to worry about being boarded by pirates.”
After negotiating several long switchbacks, the party reached the crest of the hill. The view back towards the sea was breathtaking. All had to admit that Debbie’s assessment of the town was spot on. It was indeed an idyllic Scandinavian village, remote, lonely, situated along the vastness of the North Atlantic. But the view in the other direction, to the southwest, was even more impressive.
Debbie smiled when she saw the looks of awe on the faces of the students. “That, my dear friends, is mount Snaefell.” Before them, rising into a layer of cloud, was a singular mountain that commanded the low-lying terrain around it. “It’s the volcano that lies at the heart of the Snaefellsnes National Park. One of these years I’m going to climb it, if I ever get the chance to break away from this archeological project, that is.”
&
nbsp; “It must be an extinct volcano,” Spencer offered. “Look at all that snow on top.”
“What you see is actually the Snaefellsjokull Glacier. They say that to climb the mountain safely you need a guide. There are dangerous crevasses along the way. Falling into one could seriously ruin your day.”
“So is it extinct, the volcano I mean?”
“I’m no expert, Spence, but from what I’ve heard, the answer is ‘yes’…and ‘no.’ The last eruption occurred in about 200 AD, so, yeah, it’s not currently active, but like most volcanoes in Iceland it will probably erupt again in due time. Four years ago another one erupted that profoundly affected air travel between the US and Europe. The ash it threw into the air posed a threat to the jet engines on aircraft.
She looked at each of the students and smiled, “Now, can any of you name the famous book in which Mount Snaefell plays a central role?” When she received nothing but blank stares and shrugs she continued, “Have any of you read ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’ by Jules Verne?”
“Oh yeah, I read that,” Spencer exclaimed, “So, this is where they stahted? This is the volcano?”
“Yep, this is the mountain where Professor Lindenbrock, his nephew Axel and their Icelandic guide Hans began their epic journey. Following the writings and signs left by the explorer Arne Saknussemm, the trio overcame a multitude of hazards, traversed a huge subterranean sea and dealt with prehistoric beasts.”
“I remembeh the dinosaur parts. It was an awesome book.”
“I agree. When I was a girl about your age it was my favorite story. I had vivid dreams about going on a journey like that.” She paused for a moment to reminisce. “You know, in a way our Eviskar excavation is a bit like that Verne novel. It takes place on a remote volcano…but we aren’t going to run into any prehistoric animals there or anything like that. We’ll have to be content with discovering things about the people who lived there a thousand years ago. A millennium is a long time in human history, but it’s hardly worthy of note from a geologic perspective.”
“I can see why you like this place so much,” Jack said. “When I come back here in twelve years, I think I’ll spend a week hiking in this park. It’s beautiful.”
“Did I hear you right?” Jocelyn asked. “You’re coming back in twelve years?”
“Yep”
“Not in eleven years or in, say, thirteen years?”
“Nope”
The others all looked at Jack expectantly. He laughed, “Barring unforeseen circumstances, I’ll be here on August 12, 2026.” He paused, reveling in their curiosity.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” said Jocelyn, “What happens then?”
“There’s going to be a total solar eclipse on that day. The moon’s shadow will pass across far western Iceland and then over the coast of northeast Greenland. Olafsvik is one of the few inhabited places on Earth that lies in the zone of totality. This town is going to be packed with astronomers when that happens.”
“Including you?” Jocelyn asked. “Do you plan to be one of those astronomers?”
Jack seemed a little embarrassed by the question. “Maybe,” he admitted.
“That is so cool,” Marcie broke in. “Eclipses are really rare. I’m going to be here as well.”
“Oh really?” Jocelyn chided, “as an astronomer or as one of Jack’s groupies?”
The spiteful comment stung poor Marcie. It also put a damper on the group’s conversation.
“All right, that’s enough,” Debbie sighed, “we’d better get back to the hotel. I want to make sure Morgan doesn’t try to take all of our gear to the dock by himself.”
V.
The HDMS Stjerne flew both the flag of Greenland and the red and white pennant of the ‘Kongelige Danske Marine,’ the Royal Danish Navy. A "Thetis class" ocean going vessel, her primary mission was to safeguard the navigable waters off the eastern coast of Greenland. Sleek and fast, she measured 370 feet long, 50 feet abeam and displaced approximately 3500 tonnes—comparable in most respects to a large US Coast Guard cutter. The ship slid into port, appearing as if from nowhere, and before she had even come to a full stop, her able-bodied crew began to transfer the six visitors and their gear aboard. The entire pit stop took fewer than ten minutes.
Spencer had little time to study the ominous-looking, bow-mounted canon before he and the others were herded to the ship’s stern to receive a short safety and welcoming lecture. The briefing was delivered not by one of the crew but by another researcher and colleague of Morgan’s, who, like the recent arrivals, was also en route to the excavation at Eviskar.
Dr. Johan Sørensen was a large hulk of a man with a full beard, booming voice and a jovial, avuncular nature. He’d been a passenger on the Stjerne for almost a week, ever since it had last refueled and provisioned in Nuuk. Because his English was superior to that of the captain and crew, he’d been assigned the job of welcoming and briefing the new arrivals.
Sørensen had two children of his own. Both were considerably younger than the Eviskar students, and saying goodbye to them prior to leaving on this trip had been terribly difficult. Perhaps as a result of some latent parenting need, he felt an immediate attachment to the young members of this group. Sensing his affection, the students reciprocated. Even before setting foot on the island all knew they’d already made a good friend.
The ship shook mightily when her three powerful diesel engines roared to life and she began to pull away from the dock. Bow and azimuth thrusters swung her around effortlessly and before their introductions were complete, the helmsman had opened up the main throttles and nosed the Stjerne down the center of the main channel towards open sea.
During the trip out of port, the Eviskar travelers stood along the rail of the vessel’s fantail and watched the town of Olafsvik glide slowly by. This would be their last glimpse of a permanent human settlement until September. As land faded into the distance and the white-capped waves of the ocean beckoned, each considered the ramifications of leaving civilization behind. The cold salt breeze reminded them they were on their way to a forbidding, isolated land, a place where they would have to rely strictly upon themselves and their immediate colleagues for sustenance and safety.
At least that’s what most were thinking. Spencer had other things on his mind. The young man was leaning out over the waves, craning his neck to gain a better view of the ship’s main gun turret located in front of the bridge. His gaze then moved slowly back along the ship’s port side, surveying the superstructure for other signs of armament. At length he asked his host, “Dr. Sørensen, do they have bullets for that gun? ‘Ya think it’s loaded?”
Sørensen was expecting such a question and laughed heartily. It was a booming laugh, easily heard above the engine noise. He slapped Spencer on the back. “Ja, it is definitely loaded. In fact, several days ago they had a live-fire exercise. Perhaps it was for my benefit, but of that I can’t be certain. If you are good passengers, then maybe the captain will demonstrate for you too. That, my boy, is a 76 mm canon capable of firing two rounds per second. When I inquired about the types of ammunition they carry, if they use armor piercing or explosive rounds for example, all I got for an answer was a smile.” He chuckled, “It seems there are things they do not want us to know—for security purposes I am sure.”
“They got any otha' guns on board?”
“Oh yes, they have several heavy machine guns and I believe there are smaller caliber machine guns that can be mounted on the landing craft. There may be more, but, again, the Danske Marine probably doesn’t want to reveal all of her capabilities.”
Sørensen addressed the Eviskar entourage as a whole: “What young Spencer brought up is very significant. This is a military craft on active patrol. It is crewed by sailors from Denmark and Greenland, and her mission is to defend the Greenlandic coast and the waters adjacent to it. We, all of us, are guests on board and we must not, under any circumstances, interfere with her duties.”
The ship was now outside the pr
otection of the harbor and the seas were noticeably rougher. White caps broke all around them once they were out of sheltered water, and the up and down movement of the ship was quite pronounced. Sørensen waved in acknowledgement to one of the crew and then ushered his charges inside. “The deck area is off limits most of the time while we are at sea. Although they treat us sometimes like prisoners,” he said jovially, “it is for safety reasons—to guard against someone falling overboard. If the weather holds up, they will probably allow us to get some fresh air tomorrow afternoon for an hour or so. Let me show you to your quarters and to the break room. That is where we will spend the next day and a half on our way to Eviskar.”
The main central corridor was so narrow that in order for two people to pass one another they had to turn sideways. Because their quarters were near the front, they had a long way to walk. Finally, after walking almost the full length of the ship, Sørensen turned left into an open hatchway and led them down a short series of steps into what was obviously the break room. About the size of a small bedroom, it was furnished with a table and two benches, all of which were bolted to the floor. Along the far wall lay a counter equipped with a microwave, a refrigerator and a small sink. “This is the dining area,” their guide announced. “Some of the crew like to spend time here as well, although it is generally for civilian use. The crew’s mess is in an adjacent room and is off limits to us. At times like this, when there are guests aboard, someone will deliver breakfast and dinner, buffet style, from the kitchen. We are on our own for lunch. I suggest you do as I do and save something from the dinner tray to tie you over for tomorrow’s lunch.”
“What sorts of food do they serve?” Marcie asked.
“Ah yes, that is a very good question, Marcie. I wouldn’t classify the fare here as four star, but it is capable of keeping the human body alive and functional without causing major discomfort. For protein there is mostly fish, specifically herring, either smoked or marinated. For diversion there is usually offered sliced meat as well, generally pork or beef, and of course we have wonderful Danish cheeses. Steamed vegetables, potatoes and rice round out the menu. All of the food is either frozen or vacuum sealed; the cook merely heats it up. If there is a culinary bright spot on this ship it is the bakery. The cook bakes fresh bread and pastries each day. He starts with frozen dough, to be sure, but nothing is ever stale. The pastries are especially good,” he remarked while smiling and patting his ample gut. “One should expect nothing less on a Danish vessel.”
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