Twelve hours after departing, we were a hungry crowd descending on a small, isolated hotel by a river that caters to wild salmon fishermen during the summer. It was dusk; everybody was tired, yet awed by the sights we had seen.

But the students wanted more. “We don’t want to leave Iceland without seeing the northern lights,” they said. That is one spectacle we could not control. But as we walked back out into the darkness, there it was: the Aurora Borealis, at least a faint one. And 30 minutes later, the real show began. A cooperative—and extraordinarily good—bus driver pulled off the road so that 60 excited people could go out into the darkness to see the skies dance. The lights changed hues, appearing and disappearing in the starry night. At one point I looked and there were all the students in a circle, most standing, some lying down, all hypnotized by the overpowering sky that graciously answered their prayers.

Yes, the Icelandic gods were alive and well and provided a most fitting end to the adventures of our tribe. It was magical!

After a week of cloudiness, the sky finally cleared up Friday night. As we drove back from dinner looking out the bus windows, we caught a glimpse of the Aurora Borealis. It was a wonderful gift for our last night in Iceland. Many of us had never seen the northern lights and this was such an awesome experience. The lights were beautiful. As they moved, they seemed to whisper a reminder about what awaited us when we got back, eight-oh-twooo.

After such an incredible evening, it was sad packing up to head back to Cambridge, but we had one last hoorah; we went to the Blue Lagoon to relax in the geothermal seawater. Although this is one of the more touristy places to go, it was a really nice way to say a warm goodbye-for-now to Iceland.

A group of us cornered one student while a second was rounding up a larger group to sing for us. In those crucial moments, he forced us to strike a deal: we sing before they do. Not wanting to jeopardize our tape, we were forced to serenade our Icelandic friend with the “Star Spangled Banner.” Unfortunately for him, none of us can sing. Though we did remember the words, we were off-beat and out of tune for the whole song. I don’t think he will ever ask to hear it sung again.

With our end of the deal fulfilled, we waited for the other students. When they arrived, they arranged themselves into choir formation. They began to sing, and I began to record…

reykjavik-university-students-icelandic-national-anthem.mp3

We were greeted by several secretaries and taken to an imposing office. Consequently, by the time we met the minister, I was incredibly nervous, especially when it came time to hold a microphone in front of him and ask questions of such an important person. However, I soon forgot about my nervousness as I listened to this incredibly intelligent man discuss the details of his ministry. He deftly and thoroughly answered all our questions about various aspects of the Icelandic fisheries; it was evident that he was aware of everything going on in his ministry.

The interview lasted an hour, despite our being allotted only half an hour, and we learned an enormous amount—ranging from the workings of the ministry to the minister’s personal history with fishing. It was an incredible experience for all of us, and a great opportunity to gather sound for our radio program (although I almost lost feeling in my arm from holding a mic so long).

Aside from getting in the Icelandic media, we had another unique experience today. After talking with the CFO of Hvalur, the only whaling company here, we got the chance to tour a whaling boat (unused for a decade or so because of the moratorium on whaling) and taste a bit of whale blubber. It had an interesting consistency, kind of like jello at four times the normal concentration of powder, and tasted a bit like cheese, because it is preserved in buttermilk. All in all it was very bizarre, especially considering the whale-hunting boats are kept on the opposite side of the same pier as the whale-watching boats.

A visit to Iceland, especially one focused on fisheries, would not be complete without visiting the Westman Islands, which are very important to the large fishing industry. In addition to the unique landscape of the islands (shaped by active volcanoes), there’s no mistaking the characteristic smell of fish. From the harbor to the fish factory, the heavy scent of raw fish follows you everywhere. There’s no escape.

So, next time you travel, smell the air!

The controllers sit at stations with advanced computer software that allows them to track and visualize each aircraft. When an aircraft is in radar range, it can be tracked on screen. I was surprised to learn that a large part of the center’s airspace doesn’t have radar coverage. The airspace immediately surrounding Iceland is the only area over the northern Atlantic that does. Over the rest of the ocean, controllers have to rely on updates from pilots to keep track of the aircraft.

Though I knew a little bit about the aviation system before the visit, I learned a lot about how aircraft are managed during trans-Atlantic flights.

Located right along the mid-Atlantic ridge, Iceland is home to some really beautiful geological formations. We got to see stretches of land created by lava flows from volcanic eruptions hundreds of thousands of years ago. At another outcrop, our guide explained that the flow had covered a body of water, which then built up pressure under the rock as it was heated, until the rock burst. We also climbed a slope of pillow basalt, fragmented rocks that were the result of lava that had flowed under now-melted glaciers. It was simply amazing how a natural process that happened so long ago could be frozen in time—and rediscovered after so many years by scientists who can look at the shape and structure and composition of the rocks to piece together exactly what happened.

Even though I didn’t know very much about rocks or geology (definitely not nearly as much as the EAPS students did), I had a great time, and I definitely learned a lot. To add to the experience, the sky was clear for the first time this week, and we got to take some really nice photos.

Our next stop would give us a chance to climb a volcano that only 35 years ago almost destroyed Heimaey. (Check out “Stopping the Lava,” by John McPhee.) We all rush out of the bus and start hightailing it up the lava rock, when here comes the first high-speed gust of wind. This wind would put the MacGregor wind tunnel to shame. It knocked us into one another and onto the ground. To avoid being blown away we would lie down, then as soon as the wind would die down, we would all take off running as far as we could before the next gust. By the time we made it up and back down, I had bits of lava rock in my nose and ears and throat.

The beauty and the wind of Heimaey blew me away. Literally.

Of course he was just making it up. But since I fell for it, I decided to help other Terrascopers fall for it as well. Emily and I roamed our hotel, searching for victims. We found a room full of them. Essentially, the conversation went like this:

Us: “How was dessert?”

Them: “Good.”

Us: “Did you know that the ice cream was made from whale milk?”

Them: Awkward silence and expletives.

After a few moments, we had to reveal the truth; we had duped them. Their collective sigh of relief meant only one thing: we had actually convinced them.

What did they learn? Don’t trust Adam and Emily when they talk about whale milk.

What did we learn? A well-crafted story will catch even the smartest students.