Читать книгу Across the Vatna Jökull; or, Scenes in Iceland. Being a Description of Hitherto Unkown Regions онлайн

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We purchased of our ferryman some birds (skümur) which were considered very good to eat. We stopped for the night at the farm of Króki. The farmer, who had been previously hired to form one of my expedition across the Vatna Jökull, regaled us with swan’s flesh, which much resembled tough beef; and, although eating it was rather hard work, it was certainly nutritious and palatable. The farmer, Olgi by name, had taken up shooting as his special hobby, and, in spite of his inefficient tools, a very profitable use he appeared to make of it, if we might judge from the numerous swan-skins which were drying outside his house, and the amount of swan’s flesh that was being salted. The swans of Iceland are valuable on account of their down; the outer feathers are seldom of any good, for they are never pure white; the value of a swan skin is about one rix dollar, Danish. After a ramble amongst the lava which had flowed from the Skaptar Jökull during the remarkable eruption of 1783, we resumed our journey; the day was very hot—as much so as any July day in England. Passing the beautiful waterfall of Seljalandsfoss, which appeared in the bright sunlight like curtains of silvery foam upon the face of the dark basaltic cliffs, which here are about 200 feet in height, we arrived at the farm of Hörgsdalr. Here dwelt another of our “Jökull men” (as Paul called those he had hired for my expedition) named Eyólfur; he was one of the toughest, blithest-hearted, and most good-natured fellows I had ever come across.