THE BIG FREEZE
A repurposed Nato missile carrier takes Tom Edwards to Iceland’s vast Langjökull ice cap for a surreal trip below the surface
Inside the heart of Iceland’s glaciers
STANDING on top of a glacier doesn’t feel much like I’d imagined. My mind had been filled with pictures of brave explorers battling snowstorms on husky sleds, but as I took in Langjökull, Europe’s second-largest ice cap, I felt serene and relaxed — spiritual, even.
I’d travelled up on a fine afternoon in springtime, so I might perhaps have had a tougher time in midwinter. But in any case, it wasn’t the top of the glacier I was there to see — it was its belly.
Iceland’s “Into The Glacier” tour involves travelling along a 500m-long tunnel dug deep into the solid ice by a motley crew of adventurers, construction professionals and local farmers.
It’s a two-hour drive northeast of Reykjavik, but the final part of the trip from Langjökull’s edge up to the site of the cave is done in a huge, repurposed Nato missile carrier — the only truck with tyres big enough to distribute its weight on snow.
Our 48-gear beast was driven by an eccentric former polar explorer called Arngrímur, who was keen to talk us through its complicated operation using a variety of colourful sex metaphors (the system that allowed him to deflate and reinflate tyres while driving had a particularly saucy nickname).
The trip was an early-season media preview, which meant two things: 1. The inside of the cave wasn’t quite finished (some cleaning and lighting was yet to be completed), and 2. We were accompanied by an enthusiastic film crew from Korea, by whom I accidentally found myself being interviewed on my way out.
The host’s first question — “What is this?” — seemed a bit odd coming from a man who was filming a documentary about it, but the second — “What did you think about it?” — had me stumped. What did I think of it?
The cave isn’t as awe-inspiring as I’d thought it might be, but it certainly has something. There is an eeriness about it. The visible layers of ice carry a sense of history — we could, for example, see a clear black line high up in the wall, which was a layer of ash from the volcanic eruption that stopped air traffic in 2010. We were left to wonder what might have happened back when all the other lines were drawn.
Icelanders love to tell stories about fairies and trolls: one survey showed that more than half of the population still believed in huldufólk — hidden elves who live inside the rocks and snow. And down inside this giant lump of shimmering blue ice, I really did get the feeling the landscape was alive. It may literally move at a glacial pace, but nothing here is permanent. The cave will require constant maintenance as it shifts and will be gone completely within 15-20 years.
The circular tunnel also took us straight though a huge covered crevasse, which nobody knew existed until the diggers stumbled across it. They’ve since illuminated the icy spikes, making this wonder of nature a highlight of the trip. After all, the only time anyone would ever usually see the inside of a glacial crevasse is after falling into it. Very few will have lived to tell the tale.