Tag Archives: Cold

Snorkeling between two tectonic plates (Silfra Fissue)

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Snorkeling between two tectonic plates (Silfra Fissue)

Monday, 13-May-2024


When my friend Bri and I were first talking about meeting up in Iceland, she shared a tour that she’d found a while back. A tour that would have us donning the thickest of wetsuits, on top of the warmest of fleece bodysuits, and then diving into a fissure between the North American and European tectonic plates.

I mean… how could I say no?

I couldn’t, obviously. So I said yes, booked the tours, and locked in the details!



We drove from where we’d based ourselves in Kirkjubæjarklaustur, and headed for Þingvellir park. It was a 3-hour drive, and we had a tour to catch, so we headed out early… which was a bit of a mix-up for me, since I’ve been pretty religious about avoiding setting alarms on this trip. But, for the sake of adventure, I made the sacrifice and we got on the road early, after I’d sipped some coffee and noshed on one of the croissants that I’d squirreled away in the van.

The drive was simple, nothing to report there. We stopped on the way for some lunch, but otherwise it was pure bliss, just relaxing and watching the beautiful landscape roll by.



Þingvellir itself was beautiful, and it was the work of just a minute or two to walk from the parking lot to the meetup for the dive. We checked in, were given a whole safety lesson, were given a whole lesson on donning our protective layers, and then spent almost 30min donning said protective layers.


Then, we waddled.

I mean, we walked. We tried to walk. We awkwardly walked to the dive site. One final safety briefing later, I was the first one in the water! Because I volunteered to be the safety dummy. I was excited, and our dive master was cute, okay? What do you want from me?


After I’d shown everyone how easy it was to swim, and get dragged around by the guide in an emergency, and how impossible it was to sink in our intimidatingly puffy outfits, we all dove in and started our tour!

From the surface, Silfra Fissure doesn’t look like much, other than a thin stream of water. Maybe a bit darker than the water around it, which is weird since it’s super clear – Silfra is supposedly some of the clearest water in the world, with visibility up to 300ft.

From below the surface, it’s a completely different story.

Silfra is a canyon. A staggeringly beautiful blue, getting darker the deeper it goes. We used nearly every foot of visibility, looking down into the yawning chasm, and more than a few Viking legends about sea monsters sprang to mind as I saw caves and deeper passageways leading out from the main fissure.




We swam, I adored the views, and I explored as best I could. I wished that I could put on a SCUBA kit and go deeper, though I easily contented myself with frog-kicking my way around the zone we were cleared to explore. I touched both walls, and I reignited my love for underwater exploration.

40min later, it was over. We clambered out of the water, stomped and waddled and walked our way back to the dive area, and shed out layers. We sipped cocoa, relaxed, and soon enough we were on our way.



I didn’t get any pictures, unfortunately, as there was no way I’d be risking my camera to the watery depths and intense pressure of getting dropped by cold-numbed hands. Thankfully, our guiding service provided more than just a capable guide and lovely wetsuits… Check out the images below, taken by professional underwater photographers!



Now, there’s a few interesting things that I’d like to fill you in on, dear reader:

Seeing the sunset at Elk Meadows

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Friday, 10-Nov-2023


As it should, our story begins with breakfast. Pine State Biscuits, fried chicken, and coffee.

We proceed to the trailhead, where once again it’s a Mustang… and a couple of huge, lifted, offroad doom-machines. I mean, sure. If you need a doom machine to drive in the snow… us New Englanders just drive. Not to brag or judge, of course…

Then, I dove into the woods.


It’d been a while since I’d gotten out into the snow, and this was just what I needed. Cold air, cutting crisply into my lungs, with that unique type of deep silence that only snowfields bring. 

While there were the two other vehicles at the parking lot, the trail held tradition and I didn’t see either group while I was hiking. I had the mountain all to myself, it seemed, and I took full advantage of that to soak in the quiet, take two quick drone-flights, and simply let my mind wander as long and as far afield as it felt the need.

I hiked back in the dark – night fell quickly, so close to the Solstice, but I didn’t mind. I had my headlamp, my warm clothes, and the emergency gear to see me home (or to stay safely on the mountain) if needed. I lived in my warm little puddle of light, illuminating from my headlamp, and forged my way back to the car.



The first climb of the year… at 18 Deg.F

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Sunday, 29-Jan-2023

How long has it been since I’ve climbed at Smith? Let’s see…

According to my photo record, It’s… been a really long time. We’re leaving it at that.


Jess and I left Bend early-ish… and by “early-ish” I mean “not even remotely early”. The dawn had broken over a solidly single-digit temperature, with thick snow and ice covering both the truck and the world around us. We slept in, relaxed, and took our time showering and getting packed up.

It wasn’t like the world would thaw before noon, anyways.




A quick breakfast in Terrebonne helped us rally and energize, and gave the world a little bit more time to dethaw and start warming up to more bearable temperatures. By the time we left the truck behind and began our descent into the gorge it was a (relatively) balmy 18 Deg.F by our thermometer.

The rock, of course, helped reflect the heat of the sun back into us. By the time we’d roped up and I’d started climbing, the rock face was legitimately warm – literally warm to the touch. I didn’t feel the need for a jacket, despite the cold, and even ended up rolling up my pant legs to help vent some of the heat that climbing generated.

What did we climb?
Five Gallon Buckets, 5.8, Sport, Lead then top rope.




Yep, just the one…

We got two runs of the climb in when we realized the danger – While the Sun wasn’t hitting the horizon for another two and a half hours, it didn’t need to hit the horizon. The Smith Rock cluster was in the path of the sun, and the shade was creeping up on us surprisingly quickly. There were only two other teams nearby, and of them only one was climbing… and that climbing team was rapidly packing up to avoid being plunged into darkness and cold.

(As a quick interesting note – there were three teams climbing this Sunday at Smith. Ourselves, climbing a 5.8. A team to the East, climbing a 5.12c and a 5.13a. And a third team of 12, re-bolting a handful of routes. Yep – we hang with super cool folks!)



With the shade fast approaching, I took a quick final run of the route to clean the anchors. We had warm gear with us, of course, but nothing that I’d be comfortable leading in… so instead of continuing the climbing, we started into the exploring. We hikes around, checked out Asterisk’s Pass, and got the chance to appreciate the sun dropping down lower.

We packed up our gear, and headed out. The desert passed, the trees grew, and we stopped to take pictures of a beautiful sunset.



We dined at a small restaurant in Rhododendron, and continued our way home. The snow gave way, then the trees followed suit. The city grew up in their place, and soon enough we were unpacking the truck once again after a very good weekend!