Iceland Day Three: Riding the Ponies and Seeing the Northern Lights

Before I even begin I have to say this.  Iceland feels like a dream.  Or a movie.  That's it.  I feel as if I'm living in a movie.  It's one of those places that you see and you think, "Is that place really somewhere here on earth, because if it is, I want to go there."  Well, I AM here, but every moment still feels surreal.

The Trip Advisor app is my new traveling best friend, and when I was planning this trip and looked up "Best Things to Do" in Iceland, riding Icelandic horses was near the top of the list.  I think of them as ponies because they aren't near the size of any horses I've seen in either Germany or the US, but here in Iceland they are actually called horses.

I signed us up for a morning tour of the Icelandic countryside on horse.  I had no idea what to expect, but even if I had had some expectations, they would have been nothing compared to the reality of the experience.

We showed up at the farm (just a short 20 minute drive from Reykjavik), and we were greeted warmly by everyone who works there.  It's a tiny building with friendly people for such a big operation.  Just looking around, there were at least 40 or 50 horses corralled nearby, and there were many more out in the fields.  We were given the option to wear what we were wearing, or to put on a snowsuit for warmth.  John definitely needed one, seeing as he didn't have a proper coat, but I was on the fence.  I finally decided that it would be better to be too warm and be able to layer down than to be too cold with nowhere to go.  They had nice fitting helmets for us too as well as mittens.  I appreciated it all, because I still remember how much Ethan and Mark would smell like horses after their riding lessons as kids.  Using all of the equipment at the barn, I came home still smelling like my morning shower :-)

My faithful steed, Kletter

We were then asked about our experience.  I had to smile when the guide actually gave John credit for having been on a horse once, whereas my complete inexperience gave me a horse named Kletter.  The guide told me that it means "the rock".  I felt complete relief hearing that, thinking strangely enough of Peter in the New Testament.  Turns out, Kletter wasn't exactly Peter, but more about that later.

Also, I tried to wrap my tongue around Icelandic a bit today.  It would be nice to say Kletter like it looks, but in Icelandic it sounds very different.  Want to try it?  Change Kletter to Klester.  Then pretend that you have a lisp on the "s".  And roll the "r".  Yeah, I felt rather ridiculous talking to him for two hours, saying his name like that, but when in Iceland...

So, there were probably twenty of us on the tour.  John and I, and one other couple, were the other Caucasian people on the tour (besides the three guides).  Turns out, Iceland is quite the vacation hot spot for Asians.  No joke, they are everywhere in Iceland.  And our tour was no different.  I found it rather interesting that there was very little emotion from any of them while on the tour.  They didn't seem particularly impressed with any of the scenery, or the horses themselves.  In fact, when we stopped and got off our horses at the halfway point, they didn't even hold onto the reins nor pet the animals at all.

On the other hand, I could hardly hold back the emotions from the majesty and beauty of the situation.  It might sound corny, but I felt immense gratitude to my horse for being willing to take me along for the ride.  I'm not exactly a lightweight, and yet he didn't throw any shade my way for being a bit on the heavier side.  He headed out like it was just another day on the job.

At first, I wanted to love Kletter (are you saying his name correctly in your head as you're reading this?), because I wanted him to treat me right.  I've read enough books about horses that I understand there can be some kind of connection there.  I didn't want to see him merely as a form of transportation.  But within a short while, I loved him just because he was him.

Here are some things about Kletter (getting it now?).  Riding him is like going for a ride in the car with John.  He doesn't like anything ahead of him.  That's not saying he has to be first in line.  He just doesn't want another horse butt in his way.  And if and when anyone tried to pass us, he would throw his head in the way of the other horse to prevent him from moving on.  Once he had a free and clear route though, he set the pace.  No amount of cajoling or stopping on my part was going to make him move.  At first I felt some pressure to be the one in charge, but I soon realized that my "rock" was just that--stubborn like a rock, immovable, but completely dependable.  I appreciated when we had to cross some water that he waited for the horses ahead to go through so that he wouldn't get splashed in the face, and when all of the horses were crowded onto the rocky path, he just took the road less traveled with the soft dirt off to the side.  And to quote the poet Robert Frost, "that has made all the difference."

The beginning of the tour was just walking.  About three miles of walking.  It was surreal to see all of the beautiful mountains, surrounded by the flora and fauna of an actual tundra.  And then, to our complete surprise, the guides began yelling "Hup, Hup, Hup!"  Turns out, this is all the horses need to hear to start trotting.  And I just held on for dear life.

Turns out, the Icelandic way of riding a horse is nothing like anything I ever saw when Ethan and Mark rode horses.  I was kindly encouraged to stick out my feet in front of me (in the stirrups) and sit back in the saddle.  In fact, whenever I caught sight of any of the guides, it was hard to hold back a chuckle because they looked rather ridiculous.  However, they were exactly right--it helped enormously with balance.

The Icelandic horses are actually pretty special, because unlike every other horse in the world, they have FIVE different gaits.  There's the walk, then the trot, and then this crazy thing called the Tolt.  It was hard to get the horses to go fast enough for the Tolt, but I knew exactly when he happened.  When we were trotting, everything was bouncy, and I wondered if I would be able to stay in the saddle.  But as soon as Kletter broke into the Tolt, we were flying...and it was smooth as silk.  It was absolutely amazing! I wish I had video of it all, because I can't imagine how he was moving so fast...and I wasn't moving at all.

When we stopped at the halfway point, we dismounted from the horses.  I can't deny that I thought about staying on Kletter, because I wasn't honestly sure how I would ever get back up on him again.  But I'm a rule keeper, and I hopped down.  Turns out, Kletter thought I was the perfect scratching post, because as soon as I walked around to his head, my arm and body were his main goal in life.  And I was so happy to oblige.  In fact, I spent the ten minute break just rubbing down his face and neck.  And by the end of it, I do believe he was almost asleep.  His neck was low, and his eyes were heavy.  It was the happiest moment of my day.

I love this picture of John and Hroi.

And thankfully, there was a small hill where I could lead Kletter, hop up myself and then hop onto him.  And whether or not our rub down session had something to do with it or not, he was much more obliging on the way home.  He would let me do just a little bit of leading, although for the last couple of miles, I just let the reins go.  He didn't need newb me telling him what to do.  I just sat back (with my feet up by his shoulders) and enjoyed the ride.  It was trotting most of the way home, and it ended way too fast.

It's funny how those horses know when it's time to come home.  Just like the sled dogs I used to run--they were slow as molasses heading out, but they tossed me off my skis more times than once heading home.  Thankfully I wasn't tossed off of Kletter :-). We got back and it's like he didn't even remember the good time that we had shared--he wanted to get back with all his fellow Icelandic horse peeps.  And I can't blame him.  After a hard day, I just want to be with my family too :-)

We actually ended up staying at the farm for lunch.  The owners set out a large vat of vegetable soup with bread.  And of course butter.  It tasted like heaven.

And the perfect bookend to the day?  We went out to dinner at the tiniest restaurant, The Old Icelandic Restaurant, and had (once again) delicious food.  I mean, I can really get my head around the Icelandic way of eating.  Every meal has a variety of dark brown, warm bread served with rich, creamery butter. (Yep, thank you Kate and Leopold).  And beef tenderloin and fresh fish are on every menu.  It is out of this world delicious food.

This was literally the size of the restaurant.  People were lined up outside, waiting for a table.

And because the restaurant was so close to our hotel, we walked to and from, doing some fun window shopping along the way.  And one of the best ways to figure out a country?  Visit a grocery store.

We headed in.  Just a little thing, but full of the basic necessities.  And as it turns out, Icelanders have an obsession with licorice.  We (of course) went to the candy aisle, and I kid you not, it was 75% licorice candy.  Licorice with chocolate, licorice with caramel, soft licorice, hard licorice, and as John discovered licorice covered in salt.  It being Haribo, he assumed it was sugar coating the licorice.  Nope.  In fact, for the first time in his life, John took one bite of candy...and threw the rest in the first garbage can he spotted on the street!

You think I'm exaggerating about the licorice (or Lakkris) obsession:

Why did we need snacks?  Because we were headed to see the Northern Lights.  Yep, it's been raining nonstop for three weeks here in Iceland, but somehow the Icelandic gods have held back the clouds for the entire time we've been here.  And no clouds means a clear sky to see the lights.  And believe it or not, there are websites that forecast the strength of the aurora.  On a scale of 0-9, tonight was supposed to be a 6, or "highly active".  There were tons of tour buses running through town, picking up people to take them out to the country, but we figured we would just head back out to the horse farm.

We were just minutes from the farm when this giant white ribbon appeared in the sky.  It was literally running from one horizon to the other.  And it split into four white ribbons.  And within seconds, the ribbon started undulating into pink and green and white layers.  Seriously, it was dancing across the entire sky.  And then, the ribbon started breaking up, and the pieces were more vertical than horizontal, again just dancing around.

And then they were gone.

So we waited, and when we saw another ribbon being to form (this time closer to the mountain), we watched, and the exact same thing happened.  It takes about 15 minutes from start to finish, but it's worth it.  We don't have the proper camera to capture any of it, but other people (thankfully) did:

Reykjavik Northern Lights

And then it was gone.  And no new ribbons formed.

It's crazy to think that if we had been just a few minutes later, we would never have seen any of it.  But thankfully we made it in time and saw it all!

I can hardly believe that I checked two things off my bucket list today.  What a day <3