Upon Ring Road

Freda and her father lived on the northern coast of Iceland, in the tiny fishing village of Dalvik. Although they lived close to the shore, they fished just north of the dam at Lake Blöndulón. Lake Blöndulón sat in the middle of Iceland, far from the shore where most Icelanders lived.
Blöndulón dam was created to harness the power of the river. Icelandic engineers used the energy from the water to create electricity, called hydroelectric power. This was only one of the many ways Icelanders used the island to stay alive.
Mr Samuelsson drove his Arctic Truck into a valley and across a small stream. The truck’s tires churned as the truck floated along the surface of the stream.
“Are we home yet?” asked Freda, as she rubbed the little bit of sleep from her eyes.
“We’re not even close,” replied her father, “go back to sleep.”
Freda laid down, but the undulating motion of the Arctic Truck made her queasy.
“I hate when you do this,” she muttered.
“This old truck is specially made. It could cross a river if I wanted it to. This truck is completely watertight, like a floating submarine.”
As tires snagged river rocks, the Arctic Truck lurched forward. Freda hurriedly put on her seat belt. Mr. Samuelsson did not until the truck slid over a patch of ice-covered rocks.
“I hope you’re right. You know I cannot swim,” said Freda as she grabbed onto the edges of her chair.
Just then, the truck hit another patch of jagged rocks. It jumped forward and up, climbing onto the shore. Freda let loose a sigh but did not release her tight grip on the seat.
“Look at the winds outside,” said Freda, “could be the rock giants coming to get us.”
“The rock giants are here to protect us, not to harm us,” reassured her father.
Of course, they were talking of the tale “Guaridan Spirits of Iceland.”
A long, long time ago, so it is said, the King of Denmark sent his master magician to Iceland to scout out the land.
The Magician turned into a whale and swam to the eastern fjord, only to find it protected by a great ice dragon.
He then traveled to the northern edge of Iceland. A gigantic bird waited there, his wings outspread. His body covered the valley and the magician could not pass.
The whale swam to the western shore. THe guardian of the western fjord was a large bull. The whale did not dare approach the land, for the bull came out into the sea and bellowed, frightening the whale away.
Now, the whale had to go to the south coast, where the rock giant lived. The rock giant was the greatest of the Icelandic beasts. He held his spear high over the waves. Without further planning or hesitation, the whale swam back to Denmark, never to be seen again.
Fathers told their children of the rock giants that roamed Iceland during the winter storms. Although the rock giants protected sailors and land-farers alike,
As the wind howled, Freda could nto help but think the rock giants were angry.
“I cannot wait to be safe at home,” she said.
“Me neither,” replied her father.
The north-bound highway stretched to the shore, where it met the Ring Road, a single highway that went completely around the island of Iceland. Very few travelers went inland, except for fishing, because the valleys of centeral Iceland were rocky and bare. There was no land for farming. There were no lakes or rivers to fish. The only reason Lake Blöndulón existed was because men put it there.
Just after Mr. Samuelsson turned onto Ring Road, he hit aband of metal stripping laying in the middle of the road. It cut into one of the tires, causing a flat.
“What in Thor’s name is that?” he said.
Mr. Samuelsson pulled to the side of the road.
“Is everything okay?” asked Freda as she awoke from her sleep.
“I think so,” replied her father.
“Do you need any help from me?”
“Not this time, sweetie.”
He bundled up and then got out of the truck. As he investigated the tire, he saw where the tire had been punctured. The metal stripping cut a large gash in one side of the tire, which made it useless.
Mr. Samuelsson motioned to Freda. She rolled down her window.
“I guess I do need your help,” he said.
Freda got out of the truck, eager to help.
“I need you to stand out of the way while I change the tire.”
“I can help do that.”
“Not this time,” replied Mr. Samuelsson.
Freda moved out of the way. As her father got the spare tire from the back of the truck, Freda investigated her surroundings.
“Daddy, what’s that building over there with the antenna?”
“It’s one of the weather stations.”
“What’s a weather station?” she asked.
“They monitor the weather and use that antenna to relay the information to different meteorologists around the country. There are weather stations just like that one all around Ring Road.”
“Are there any inland?”
“If so, there aren’t many. Not many people live inland. There’s no farmland and it’s much colder.
“Why is it so much colder inland?”
“Wind currents that travel down the slope of a mountain are much colder than the currents traveling over the Arctic Ocean.”
“I thought the Arctic Ocean was colder than the middle of Iceland.”
“Some currents are, but the main Ocean currents come from the south. They flow along the coast of North America, bringing warmer water and warmer air currents, too.”
“So that’s why it’s warmer?”
“That’s most of the reason. We also have geysers and volcanoes.”
“I don’t like geysers,” replied Freda.
“Why not?”
“They make the air smell funny, like a rotten egg.”
“That’s called sulfur. It’s part of the gas that erupts from a geyser. Plus, the energy from geysers helps to heat our home.”
“It does?”
“It most certainly does. Do you see those pipes over there? That’s the geothermal station. Just like dams use the energy of the water, geothermal energy plants use the energy of geysers.”
Even in the darkness, Freda could see the lights of the geothermal station down the road. Large flumes of white smoke erupted from chimneys fitted over steel pipes. She knew from past experience that geothermal stations always smelled like rotten eggs.
Mr. Samuelsson fitted the new tire on the axle and secured all the lug nuts. As soon as he removed the jack, the truck was as good as new.
“Let’s go,” he announced.
As they drove up Ring Road, the odor grew stronger until they passed the geothermal station. Freda was glad when they passed the station. It not only meant the smell was almost over, but it also meant they were closer to home.
Ring Road stretched along the coast, separating the mountains from the Ocean. As they curled around the farthest reach of road, the snow began to clear, which meant they were closer to home.
Soon after the snow cleared, it began to grow again.
“I thought you said there was less snow near the shore,” said Freda.
“Usually there is,” replied her father, “but I see lots of gloomy skies ahead. It looks like there’s a snow storm near Dalvik.”
Soon, the Arctic Truck entered the blizzard. Freda adjusted her seat and fitted her seat belt snugly around her chest. Soon, the white Truck disappeared in the thick flurries of a winter snowstorm.
“I’m scared,” said Freda.
“Don’t worry,” said her father, “We’re almost home.”
Still, Freda could not help but worry. Snowstorms always scared her. She stared out the front window of the truck, looking for any signs of trouble.
“Relax,” demanded her father.
“I don’t know if I can.”
Freda eased back into her seat. Even as the gap between truck and home decreased, Freda was eager to be home again. Unfortunately, the snowstorm had different plans and Freda and her father would just have to wait.