Our Only Regret is Not Drinking More
of the water, while snorkeling (Iceland Part 2)
Day 2 (Tuesday)
Located in Þingvallavatn Lake, within Þingvellir National Park (in a valley by the same name), the Silfra fissure is the only place in the world where you can snorkel or dive between two tectonic plates. If you spoke with me at all before this vacation, I probably gushed about how this was the experience I was most looking forward to.
In order to brave the frigid waters (2 degrees Celsius, about 35 degrees Fahrenheit), we were advised to wear thermal underwear, a fleece, and two layers of thick socks. When our shuttle pulled into the parking lot, we were directed to a windowless white van where we checked in and were given a thick insulated body suit to put on over our clothes. We were then ushered outside toward another van where we were handed a dry suit to serve as the outer layer, with fun, floppy rubber boots that felt as constricting as footsie pajamas. The suit had rubber gaiters around the wrists and neck, and required assistance to put on. Even with the rubber wrapped tightly around our necks, the guide was concerned the freezing water may seep in so he secured it further with a collar not unlike my dog’s. Next came the neoprene lobster claw-like gloves and balaclava (unceremoniously yanked over our hands and heads respectively).
It was an attractive look, to be sure:
Once we were suited, collared, masked, and finned, it was time to hop into the fissure. The insulated body suit and second-layer dry suit were surprisingly warm, and indeed did their job of keeping me both dry and buoyant. For the uninitiated, stepping into the water wearing one of these things is a delightful sensation: the pressure from the surrounding water makes the suit cling tightly to your body, but not in a suffocating way. It’s more like a gentle hug, similar to what (I imagine) it’s like to step into Temple Grandin’s cow-hugging machine.
Before we were allowed to begin exploring, our guide had us demonstrate how we would roll over if we got too tired or needed help. Once he confirmed that we were fully competent to avoid drowning, we were allowed to don the snorkel and submerge our faces — the only part of our bodies that would take a direct hit from the cold — into the clearest water I’ve ever seen. Because Silfra is constantly filling with glacial water that has been trickling through underground lava rock for 30-100 years, the water in the fissure is the cleanest in the world, and perfect visibility extends beyond 100 meters. Guys, the water is clean enough that you can — and should!! — drink it while snorkeling.
But you know I mentioned that rolling demonstration for a reason, so here it is: Dave was swimming in front of me, and in the first few minutes of being in the water, I watched him repeatedly roll over onto his back. Part of me wanted to do the same, just to give my exposed face a quick reprieve from the cold, but my lizard brain reminded me that the pain was temporary and remaining submerged would be the most effective strategy through it (my face was entirely numb within minutes, which was a strange sensation, but far better than pain). Dave soon had the same realization. Onward we swam.
An interesting thing happens when every curve of your body is being delicately caressed by the freshest, most deliciously satiating water on the planet and when the jarring temperature of that water keeps you on high alert of your surroundings: it becomes easy, almost unavoidable, to tune out the rest of the world.
If this vacation had a designated purpose, this was it: tune out all the noise (both internal and external) and recenter in the present.
Little effort needed to be expended to float through the fissure, and the only sounds that could break through the deafening silence were the infrequent check-ins from our guide, wherein he requested a thumbs-up if we were doing alright. Without looking up, we each slowly thrusted a thumb toward the sky in acknowledgment.
Having guided others through this ever-expanding crack in the earth twice a day for several years, he must know how impactful and meditative the experience can be. So he gave us space to explore, to exist, to get lost in our own minds, and to connect in whatever ways are humanly possible to such an ethereal experience. The snorkeling equipment enabled that space even further: with my face submerged underwater, the edge of my goggles served as a blinder. I was alone in that fissure, until I accidentally bumped into Dave’s flipper every now and then.
As we drifted through the narrow passage, floating above a group of divers, I was taken by the water’s clarity and depth. The pale blue sheen of the sky’s reflection deepened as I gazed between slabs of earth that had settled and resettled with each shift of the plates, shading the flora that manages to survive in that climate and highlighting the delicate balance of the relentless tension between plates. That shifting allows for caves to form and for the crumbling rock to fill in gaps as new crevices develop over time, and from the surface of the water we could see it all.
For far too brief a moment, both my body and soul stretched across the expanse of this liminal space, suspended in the illusion of time, each hand resting on separate continents.
I’ve been trying for hours to put into words what this experience really felt like, and I still can’t quite articulate the impact it had on me. A wonderful friend reminded me before this trip that I should focus on staying present and avoid any past and future thinking (heyyyy, Arun). No experience could possibly bring that idea into focus more than realizing the significance of this one place on earth and the contrast of my own human insignificance.
We returned back to the hotel just in time to shower and meet up with our friends (Emily, Stacey, and Mike Chasin), who had arrived earlier that morning. For dinner, Stacey found an excellent Italian restaurant a few blocks away, which we followed up with some dessert (lava cake, duh) and a rousing game of Golf (the card game, also duh) in the restaurant of our hotel lobby.
"...each hand resting on separate continents." Love this so much.
Beautiful description, Jess. I almost felt like I was there alongside you!