Góðan daginn!
As you may have heard, we have a brand-spanking-new volcanic eruption happening as I write this, less than 50 km from Reykjavík, our capital.
It started at around 10 pm last night, and there was hardly any warning. Not last night, I mean. Of course we have been anticipating this event for weeks, ever since the spate of earthquakes that forced the evacuation of the town of Grindavík in early November. (Here is a piece I wrote about it in the Washington Post.)
But things had died down to almost nothing, and most people surmised that the magma that had been pushing its way through underground tunnels had simply coagulated. They were even talking about letting the residents of Grindavík return home for Christmas. But lo! At 9 pm last night the earthquakes intensified (there had still been quakes, but only small ones) and less than an hour later, BAM! The ground opened up. If you follow this link you can see the exact moment this happened.
At this time EPI and I were potatoed on the couch watching Ted Lasso, completely oblivious—that is until EPI picked up his phone and saw a photo that his daughter Ragnheiður had sent, taken from her balcony in downtown Reykjavík.
A few minutes later I got my own photo delivery from my daughter Aldís via WeTransfer (“some pictures for you” … she knows my needs 😜) that she had taken from a hill near Perlan, also in Reykjavík. 👇
We don’t live within sight of the Reykjanes peninsula, but even we could see the fire reflected in the sky from our balcony.
I surmise people may wonder what goes through the mind of someone who has a volcano erupt less than 50 km (31 miles) from where they live.
I have to say, it is awe-inspiring and thrilling. Even though we Icelanders are no strangers to stunning natural phenomena (and even get a little ho-hum about the northern lights), this is off the charts. Also, it’s a little scary because it truly brings home our insignificance and fragility as humans. It’s humbling.
Yet I do not fear for my safety. We Icelanders are blessed to have highly skilled scientists among us, plus state-of-the-art monitoring devices that can predict these types of events—not when or where they will happen, of course, but close enough to help keep people safe. This is the fourth eruption close to the capital in nearly three years, and there have been no fatalities and no injuries as a direct result of the eruptions, despite tens of thousands of Icelanders making their way to the eruption sites to see them up close.
Still, staying safe is dependent on following instructions laid out by Civil Protection and listening to our scientists. Case in point: the town of Grindavík was evacuated last month since it was believed that the eruption could start very near the town, or even right inside of it. When no eruption happened, people were gradually let back into the town—but they were not allowed to spend the night.
The residents were getting a bit antsy, wanting to return home, since they—like many others—believed that “the event” was over, or perhaps more accurately wasn’t going to happen. Two days ago, a hotelier in the town flatly refused to leave when civil protection personnel were checking to make sure everyone had left for the night. A bit of a kerfuffle ensued and he was informed that he would be arrested if he did not leave, so he went, but was mighty indignant and highly vocal about it on national television. That very same night, the ground opened up.
Moral of the story: listen to the people who know better!
So yes, we have solid people and institutions looking out for us, and as long as we use common sense, we should be fine. That being said, it is also true that we are in a new epoch, the volcanic system has reawakened, and eruptions like these will become more frequent—they may even be an annual event. Even more concerning: there is a volcanic system running all through the peninsula, and magma can force its way into different fissures below the surface. Some of those fissures extend to the suburbs of Reykjavík, Iceland’s capital, which is kind of terrifying.
So, we shall see. This nation is acclimatised to living with forceful and volatile nature—it’s coded into our DNA. I know that, whatever happens, we will adapt.
Just a quick update: now, 24 hours later, the eruption that started with a bang has quickly subsided, and is now only about one-fourth of what it was last night. Even so, that one-fourth is twice the volume of the biggest of the three eruptions we’ve had since 2021. The threat now is to infrastructure—the Svartsengi power plant, the Blue Lagoon and the road leading to Grindavík. However, over the last month they have been constructing protective barriers to help spare those places, so we are hoping for the best.
For the latest updates on the eruption you might want to follow RÚV’s (the national broadcaster’s) English-language site.
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we volcano eruption addicts live all over the world and ouir kids also know that. i had got to sleep early that night, which I do not so often and woke up by a message of my son (29) living in another town and obviously always on guard with the right live cam. Sending me a link with the words "it happens", weeka after my return from iceland says all. The night was over. Addiction let me watch the whole night and heart everyone on insta who made those fabulous pictures with drones, with cameras for the press. I love you ALL
Last week, somewhere, I read a quote from a US emergency worker who was very pleased at how Icelanders actually follow advice to evacuate and such.
Iceland is beautiful. It also is trying to kill people. I remember having dismounted on a horse ride, looking down, and seeing that the puddle 10 cm from my left foot was boiling.
I was a bit more careful about where exactly I was stepping after that.