Рет қаралды 148
The Lieutenant finds himself alone for a week. This doesn't bother him at all; he uses the time to organize and clean the truck and perform technical maintenance. He relocates the truck base to the harbor area of Keflavik, which he finds to have a certain morbid charm.
He repairs the windows after another leak, drinks less-almost nothing by his standards-and prepares healthy breakfasts. This lifestyle, to the Lieutenant, feels peaceful, serene, almost monastic. He feels like a modern monk in his monastery-truck.
Despite enjoying the solitude, he eagerly anticipates the arrival of the relief crew-Team C, which he affectionately calls Team Caroline. Caro arrives with a bottle of 'Wild Icelandic Dry Gin,' and they reminisce about old times and discuss current events.
The harbor, though rainy, is a beautiful and peaceful place. One morning, a dramatic cloud formation unfolds before the crew's eyes through the panoramic rear window of the Zetros truck.
Then disaster strikes: Caroline falls from a considerable height onto the asphalt, possibly due to a storm or an earthquake. The Lieutenant rushes her to Reykjavik's National University Hospital in the Zetros, where she receives painkillers and Heparin injections. Instead of a cast, she gets an Airwalker boot and crutches. She must avoid putting weight on her foot for six weeks and lie down due to a double spinal fracture.
The Lieutenant laments the poor diagnosis as Caroline books the next flight back home. Team Caroline still has a day to spend in Iceland, making the best of it by visiting the Perlan Observatory in Reykjavik to see the Northern Lights-albeit virtually. It’s a short but intense, and unfortunately painful, stint for the C-Crew.
With Caroline’s departure and some free time on his hands, the Lieutenant conducts a thorough reconnaissance, exploring the surroundings. He discovers impressive lava fields and a stone beach where he spends a week. He notices seismographs set up in the field, wondering about their purpose. Nearby is the Fagradalsfjall volcano on the Reykjanes Peninsula. He hopes it remains dormant but enjoys the magnificent view from the panoramic bedroom window of his Mercedes Benz Zetros truck.
After a stunningly colorful sunrise over the stone fields, the Lieutenant continues his reconnaissance, driving along mountain roads on the Reykjanes Peninsula. It’s a strenuous test for both man and machine, rewarded by extraordinary landscapes of moss-covered lava fields and colorful rock formations, interspersed with picturesque highland lakes. All this is not far from the capital and the international airport, Keflavíkurflugvöllur.
After a morning walk over the super-soft Icelandic moss and a hearty breakfast, the Lieutenant notices something unsettling outside the window while working on his computer. Daily good deeds are his motto, and after a spontaneous rescue mission, he returns to editing his film. But what will happen next?
The Lieutenant has been curious about the tremors shaking the entire truck. He drives through the lava fields to investigate, noting the many seismographs. Of course, there has been a volcanic eruption with lava flow, which he eagerly observes. The lava is still hot and steaming in some areas. He spends half a day climbing the mountains in the Fagradalsfjall volcanic area, a strenuous endeavor.
Interestingly, the Lieutenant muses, Iceland strictly forbids off-road driving or leaving marked paths, yet a nearby mountain can erupt and bury entire valleys under hundreds of millions of tons of lava. Where’s the proportionality in that, he wonders? The same goes for emissions. While people are urged to conserve fuel, a volcano releases millions of cubic meters of sulfur dioxide and CO2 into the stratosphere, darkening the northern hemisphere. Where is the proportionality, indeed? @peteruppert