Top photo: A photo of a photo taken in the 1930s of Geysir, the original geyser, erupting before a crowd of people. Eruption height: 240 feet.

Bottom photo: Geysir is now dormant, but as with all geological activity, that could change at any moment.

One of the most important parts of the day before our adventure continued...

Icelandic cookies and hot chocolate!

Clearly we must not know much about the behavioral patterns of this mammal. This far north in the middle of March without skis? It's unheard of!

Photos by Finni.

After I did my research on this dive, I immediately called the dive shop I had passed earlier.

A lovely young gent named Finni answered the phone:

Hi, I just had a few questions about the Silfra dive.

Yes?

How cold is it reallly?

It is very cold and don't forget, you'll be carrying dive gear to and from the car in the snow.

How far?

About 300 meters.

How cold again?

Really, really cold. The water is 2°C I'm not trying to discourage you, I just want to be honest with you.

I appreciate that, really, I do. I'm going to think about this and call you back. Is that ok? How late can I call you?

About midnight.

Great. I will call you later.

After that conversation, I went whale-watching to have a think. I came back, passed out for a few hours (missing dinner - ugh), woke up around 10:00 p.m. and read that Dive Magazine article. I call Finni at about 10:30 p.m.:

Let's do this.

You sure? I'll be happy to dive with you, but it's a tough first dive for someone who isn't used to a dry suit.

I'm totally sure. How many people will be going diving?

Only you and me.

This was the beginning of a lovely friendship.

All underwater Silfra photos taken by Finni.

Silfra.

All photos of Silfra... above this post and below this post... were shot by my dive guide, Finni. As I believe I mentioned, this was a spontaneous decision on my part, so if I wasn't even bringing my dive card/log book, why the heck would I lug my underwater camera housing?

So many thanks to my new friend, Finni Finnbjörnsson, for providing these stories with some lovely imagery!

End of dive! Honestly, the hardest part about this dive was re-adjusting yourself to the weight strapped on you when climbing out of the water and onto icy rocks.

Let me ask you a very important question: what do these two images say to you?

Possible answers may include: "Holy moly! That looks cold/freezing/pretty/wet/snowy/sunny/beautiful!" or simply, "Hooray geology!"

You know what they say to me? Aside from all of the above answers?

Let's go scuba diving! Actually, not really. If you showed me these photos and told me I was diving here, I would say, "You know I wear a 5mm hood in warm water, right?"

That question may or may not also be preceded by, "You're fucking crazy."

Packing for Iceland, I had my cert card in hand, but laughed at the notion, as my entire suitcase held nothing but sweaters, hats, gloves and long underwear. The concept just seemed ridiculous.

To be honest, I didn't even know there was excellent diving here, but when I arrived, I walked past a dive shop and was immediately curious. Of course this required further investigation. As it turns out, you can actually dive the continental divide! It requires a dry suit and lugging 75 lbs. of gear 300 meters, but as Dive Magazine put it:

Diving Silfra is surreal. It’s probably best described as the closest experience to space-walking you are ever likely to get. Due to the extreme clarity, one loses all sense of depth. Indeed, Tómas Knutsson, who is the owner of the local dive centre in the town of Keflavik, has often had people suffering from vertigo when they first enter the water. The reasons for this outstanding clarity are two-fold. First, it is cold. Its temperature varies between 2 and 4ºC all year round. At this temperature nature stands little chance of supporting much aquatic life. Secondly, the water itself is of the purest form. It begins as distilled water when the leading edge of the glacier melts high up on the Hofsjokull mountain. This water then disappears and runs underground, to emerge once again in the Thingvellir national park. On its journey it is constantly filtered by porous lava rock. The water is so pure that it can be drunk without any form of treatment.

After reading that, there was clearly no way that I wasn't going to do this.

Photo taken 3.10.11.

Top photo: Very glad those people were in the frame, as it gives a better perspective on the size of the plates.

Bottom photo: Since the photos are tiny on this blog, you can't quite see the buildings close to the center of the frame. This spot is where the Vikings founded parliament in 930, as well as where Christianity was officially adopted in 1000.

Most amazing to me? Parliament didn't move from the photo above to Reykjavik until 1845.

Eurasian and North American tectonic plates meet at Þingvellir National Park, one of UNESCO's World Heritage Sites.

Please pardon the windshield dirt. Although, I will say... the windshield dirt is imperative, as this was the drive to what was yet to be determined as one of the dumbest impromptu decisions I've ever made orrrr the coolest.

Photo taken on 3.10.11.

The final stretch on my walk back to the hotel. Surprisingly, I slept through dinner.

When I awoke, however, I did what I came here to do. I sat by the harbor for about two hours, from 10-12, waiting for Ms. Aurora Borealis to show her pretty face. Yes, I'm a nerd, a very chilled-to-the-bone nerd at that. And I know that monitoring solar activity is not what most people do in their free time, particularly when traveling, but the aurora is something special.

Photo taken on 3.9.11. Hallgrímskirkja in the distance.

Hallgrímskirkja.

Unfortunately, by the time this nice light occurs, the church is closed. I will be paying another visit sometime before I leave. Hopefully, it will not be snowing.

Photo taken 3.9.11.

Probably the best fish and chips I've ever had. At Icelandic Fish and Chips, they only offer their customers fish that was caught that morning.

What's on the table:

Drinks: Homemade soda (fresh ginger, lemon, agave nectar and soda water), water

Food: Cod fried in a spelt/barley batter and rosemary and olive oil chips

Sauce: Basil-garlic Skyr

Yep. Still a member of the Clean Plate Club.

Just in case you wanted further information: http://www.fishandchips.is/

All of the above photos were taken on Spítalastígur on my walk from the harbor to Hallgrímskirkja.

Oh Reykjavik... you are so beautiful, but so cold.

Photo taken on 3.9.11.

Success!

Sadly, no whales, but we caught some pretty active white-beaked dolphins playing around. The best part about these guys was the belly-flop sound they made when they landed. I've seen dolphins in the wild before, but I've never seen them twist and belly flop!

Definitely a time where I would have loved to toss on my scuba gear, as usually, hundreds of dolphins within the pod stay below the surface.

This encounter rivals the time when I was on a ferry heading to Surigao City, Mindinao in the Philippines to begin the Carrera Habagat. Kaloy and I took a late ferry out and just around twilight, I went to the bow of the boat to watch the colors of the horizon change. My eyes lit up when I caught sight of a handful of dolphins riding the wake. It was too dark to photograph, but holy cow was it beautiful.

This time, I'm quite grateful that it was sunny so I could snap a few photos.

Photos taken on 3.9.11.

If you ever wanted to know what I would look like whale-watching in Iceland in March, here's your answer.

It was absolutely a Vuarnet day.

Photo taken on 3.9.11.

A few shots from the Hafsúlan whilst searching the bay for whales.

Photos taken on 3.9.11.

You may be thinking, "What the heck, Al? It's not whale season in Iceland! Everybody knows that!"

Or maybe you're not thinking that. But if you are, you would be correct. However, there is one operation that suits people up in super warm coveralls and takes them out into the bay for some whale-watching. You won't ever see the minke whales, but it's always a possibility, though your chances are significantly lower due to migration patterns, to see humpbacks, orcas, white-beaked dolphins, harbour porpoises and a variety of birds.

Even without a sighting, I figured it would all be well worth it, as it was a stunningly beautiful day day for a boat trip in Iceland. Again, windy, but that wasn't really an element with which I was concerning myself.

If it doesn't affect the well-being of the camera, then I'm ok with it.

Photo taken on 3.9.11.

See? Day two is muuuchh nicer.

I spent much of the morning chatting with people about where to go, what to see. So much chatting, in fact, that as usual, I let the time get away from me. I had a very important date with a whale-watching vessel, so I left the conversation to scurry down Laugavegur, Reykjavik's main street, to get to the harbor.

By scurry, I mean slip and slide with the rest of the locals down the ice-covered streets. You learn very quickly that you must always look for the whitest parts of the sidewalk or your butt will be on the ground in a second.

Can you imagine the streets of New York being that way? Lawsuits galore. Haha, it's actually a rather amusing notion.

So anyway, I had seen this graffiti the day before, but as mentioned, it was snowing and terribly windy. When I walked by on this gorgeous Wednesday, I had to detour to take a few shots, despite my moderate tardiness.

Photos taken on 3.9.11.