Swanson School of Engineering

“Hæ hæ” (a friendly way of saying hi)

It is Wednesday, which means we have been here for five days. Here is your daily news and forecast.

As of 1 AM this morning, the northern lights were faintly visible with the help of an iPhone. Cloud cover still made our hopes for clear northern lights fairly low. However, as of 6 AM this morning, our area is clear. Now the aurora has a free sky to paint, and we all want tickets to the gallery. Please send your best wishes for a good light show tonight.

Today, we made our way to the Glacier Lagoon. First, we needed to set the groundwork for these Icelandic names.

• The lagoon is called Jökulsárlón (said Yuh kuls ar lown), and it means glacier river lagoon. Check number one for literal.
• The glacier we can see is Breiðamerkurjökull (said Brey tha mer kur yuh kuhtl), and it means wide forest glacier. It was named after the forest that existed there before the Little Ice Age. This glacier is an outlet glacier connected to Vatnajökull. Check number two for literal.
• The largest glacier in all of Europe is Vatnajökull (said Vaht nah yuh kuhtl). It is the ice cap that feeds several smaller outlet glaciers. In a way, it is like the corporation running a chain of smaller branches. You are not ready for what the name means. Water glacier. Essentially, a glacier of rivers. Crazy. Check number three for literal.

Once we arrived, we got to explore the lagoon on our own. When you walk down to the lagoon beach, you see an incredible view. Crystal blue water filled with glittering icebergs and floating sheets of ice scattered across the surface. Some of the larger icebergs glow with a bright aqua teal color. The contrast between the glowing ice and the black sand beach makes everything feel untouched and completely natural, which it is.

Before we left, I made it my personal mission to find a seal. Seals come into the lagoon to escape predators and hunt fish. They are often seen playing in the currents, sunbathing on icebergs, and diving for a meal. What a life. But I swear the seals are playing practical jokes on visitors. This became the most frustrating game of cat and mouse.

This seal, whom I named Erfitt, which means difficult, would pop his head up about 40 to 50 feet away. I would walk closer to try to get a picture, and he would immediately dive underwater. Then he would pop his head back up exactly where I had been standing before. We went back and forth several times. Finally, I thought, there is no way I am losing a game to a seal. So I stood perfectly still and waited. He popped his head up exactly where I had planned to walk next.

Seal 5. McKenna 0.

Eventually, I gave up and sat down on a rock. Suddenly, Erfitt popped his head up about ten feet away. So what did we learn today? I may be a horse whisperer, but I do not speak the language of seals. Also, sometimes we are so busy moving, planning, scheduling, and working that we forget to slow down and let life happen. Maybe Erfitt just wanted me to stop, breathe, sit down, and enjoy the view of the lagoon. Erfitt might be a jerk, but he had a point.

After the lagoon, we drove to our next destination: Svartifoss. Svarti means black, and floss means… (Fill in the blank. This is interactive now. If you are new, it means waterfall.) You might be thinking, McKenna, you said Icelanders name things very literally. So what part of this waterfall makes it black?

The rocks. The rocks are black. Still very literal.

Here is what the hike looked like. We started hiking and immediately encountered a hill. We turned a corner and found another hill. We reached the top of that hill and discovered yet another hill. Finally, we turned another corner, and it was a valley. (Got you. Not a hill.) But do not worry, because after the valley came another hill. In total, we climbed the equivalent of about 48 flights of stairs, which comes out to roughly 750 steps over 2 km.

I learned two more things about Ólöf today. First, she can move. She had us hiking at double speed. What was supposed to be a two-hour hike turned into about one hour. Second, she is the perfect person to walk behind if you do not want to be the one testing how slippery the ground is. She always knew exactly where to step and even made little heel grips in the dirt for me. Thanks, Ólöf. I appreciate the grips. I am less thankful for the surprise cardio workout, but Ólöf promised it would be worth it, and she was right. This waterfall is surrounded by tall column-shaped rocks formed when pockets of magma cooled and cracked into geometric patterns. Over time, water and weather eroded parts of the rock away, revealing these incredibly neat and organized rows of columns.

Before heading back, we stopped to see the remains of an old bridge that had been badly damaged by flooding. The broken section was left there as a reminder that, in the grand scheme of things, nature is always in control. If Mother Nature doesn’t want your bridge on her lawn, then you best believe she is moving it pronto. It was fascinating to see the damage and stress placed on the bridge. It felt like a nightmare scenario where I suddenly had to calculate a statics free body diagram and determine how much force was required to cause that much torsion and bending. The trauma of statics…thanks, Dr. Barry. In my expert opinion, the answer is a lot of force.

That is it for this lovely blog post, so I’ve got to let you guys go so I can stare out my window like a child in a Christmas movie on Christmas night. “Where are you Christmas, why can’t I find you?” vibes but “Where are you Aurora, why can’t I see you?” instead.

I will be back tomorrow with a Thursday update and an update on my drama-filled moment where I discovered the meaning of the northern lights.

Bless! (Goodbye)