Katka works at a pretty big farm (although it is small by Icelandic standards) with about 40 milking cows and 20 more bulls and calves. They also have sheep, and they are the largest carrot producer in Iceland. The orange-carrot jam that we serve at breakfast was made from the carrots from this farm. They also supply our grocery store in town, although recently their stock of 40 tons ran out, so no more carrots for a little while. We did get a chance to see how a dairy farm works. I've only seen samples of the process at state fairs back in the United States, where all of the real down and dirty work isn't put on display.
The cows at Pétursey farm have to wait a few more days until they can be released into the open, so for now they are still in pens inside, which sounds pretty miserable. However, this might be the cleanest farm in Iceland. Maybe in the world. 60 cows cooped up inside and it didn't even smell bad. Don't get me wrong. There was definitely a smell. My clothes still smell like the cow house, but it's not unpleasant.
We arrived as the farm owners were cleaning out the system. There was still a little soap in the lines, but usually they are cleaned after milkings. We walked around and Katka showered affection on each of her favorite animals. She can tell them all apart and has names for them, and told us about their various personalities. Calves drooled on her fingers and newborn lambs bleated in her face, to her incredible delight. I think Katka has found her calling in life. I've never seen someone get so much joy out of being around farm animals. She is like a loving mother to them all. And she's only been there for three months!
It's funny that as a fairly compassionate person, and someone who was a strict activist vegetarian for five years (and considering starting up again), I really just don't have much love for animals. I appreciate them and care about them, but I simply just don't melt around them the way that a lot of people do. I feel pretty strong about birds, and my heart really feels for them. There's some kind of connection there, for sure. But with mammals, I don't feel that. I don't even like petting dogs. Being in a room full of steaming, stamping, braying cows was fascinating, but I wasn't exactly in my comfort zone. Seeing someone going around kissing their slobbering faces was also a little baffling. It's always a good feeling to see someone else so delighted and happy, so that's what I enjoyed about it.
I suppose the other unusual thing about a person like me visiting a dairy farm is that I absolutely despise milk. Up until very recently, even the thought of someone else drinking it would make me gag. Icelandic milk does taste a bit different from milk in the USA, so I've been able to put crowberry milk over cereal some mornings and I don't feel sick. But drinking a glass of milk? Forget it. People are always telling me that I just haven't lived until I've tried milk "straight from the cow". And there is definitely something about that that sounds lovely. So my big motivation for coming to the farm was to finally try some of this famous "SFTC" milk.
Fortunately for us, one of the milking machines was malfunctioning a little and the milk from there was directed to go to the calves. And us. Katka divvied up the cans for the babies and we shared a glass of warm milk. Surprisingly, none of us had ever sampled it, even Katka who milks twice every single day. I think Michal liked it the best. He drank most of it. We all agreed that it has almost no taste and was surprisingly thin. I wasn't impressed and still felt a little grossed out. Especially when we watched one of the cows being milked drink from a bucket of fresh milk. Milk that may have been her own but was definitely her neighbors. There was something a little kinky about that. I almost felt like I shouldn't have watched it.
I'm still not sold on milk, but baby cows sure do love it! And everyone likes watching baby cows drink milk.
After our little farm adventure and gaining a whole new respect for the amount of work that goes into farm life, we headed out to the base of Eyjafjallajökull where there is an old swimming pool. I had been there before, briefly, but was interested to see it again. Michal and Katka have never really been anywhere, so it was a good adventure for everyone. The pool was built in 1923 and is heated with water pulled from underground. You may remember that Eyjafjallajökull is the volcano that erupted last year and bothered all of those people in European airports. It's still a very active area and further up on the glacier, the ground is still red and will continue to be hot for a few more years.
The pool was never one of the fancy town pools with showers and other frills. It was simply built into the side of the mountain with some modest changing rooms. I'm pretty sure there was never even a toilet. When Eyjafjallajökull erupted, a massive amount of ashy water rushed down into several places, including the valley that this pool occupies. As a result, the valley was cut much larger and a rocky river rushes through it, completely black with cliffs of ash flanking the sides. Scientists calculated that during the eruption, up to 1,000 cubic meters of ash were being send into the air every second. 1,000 cubic meters will fill 100 trucks. Entire walls and numerous large piles have been made of the stuff, and luckily it makes pretty decent fertilizer.
The other effect of the volcanic ash was that it completely filled the pool. It also pushed open the changing room doors and filled each of the three rooms and collapsed the benches inside. It's a mess. However, it's incredibly remote and beautiful.
To get to the pool, you must trek across the river. Waterproof shoes are necessary unless you don't mind getting wet, or are brave enough to attempt balancing on a pipe that spans a portion of the fast-flowing, ice-cold glacial meltwater. Then just follow the path and look for the plumes of steam and you're there.
The pool is called Seljavallalaug and was never maintained. A small sign in Icelandic posted on the side of the building tells when it was built, who the first person was the swim there, and to please clean up after yourself and no dogs. Even when it wasn't full of black ash, it would often have algae growing on the edges. On the day we visited, algae was indeed in full bloom on the remaining wall, but the water was hot and inviting, and I stripped down and plunged in. I had expected the water to be very shallow, but it was actually fairly generous. Standing up in the deepest part, the water came to my waist. A gentle slope of ash under the water made a decent beach and lean against. When it was stirred up, the visibility dropped to almost zero, and it was a similar experience to the Blue Lagoon, being able to vanish just an inch below the surface.
Michal joined me in the pool only a minute after, and Katka eventually overcame shyness in favor of a luxurious soak, and soon we were all marveling at our incredible luck to be in such a place. Katka pointed out that we would remember this for the rest of our lives, and I was very glad she said that because she was right.
The only thing missing was towels.
...Next time!
Thank you for the info. It sounds pretty user friendly. I guess I’ll pick one up for fun. thank u
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