The rising sun filtering through the frost on the car windows woke us up early the next morning, and I was surprised to find I could actually breathe through my frozen, icicle of a nose.
Scraping a hole in the window ice, I realized that the sun was just rising and we hurried to get bundled up and go see sunrise on the lake.
When we left the car the wind had died down, though the air was still crisp and very cold.
As we approached the lake we found hundreds of tiny “icebergs” had washed up on the shore overnight, and got some amazing pictures of the various shapes and colors in the rising morning sun.
The lake was magical, and having clear skies there at both sunrise and sunset was amazing.
We got on the road quickly since we had quite a way to drive, covering almost 1/3 of the whole loop road to make it to lake Myvatn that night. After 2 hours of beautiful driving along the south east coast, we stopped at the charming fishing town of Hofn, to get some supplies and stop in the library for internet. We were shocked to STILL have no word from Duane, now 4 days after he was supposed to have arrived in Iceland, and wrote a few even-more desperate emails to friends in Pittsburgh. Back on the road, we spent 3 hours winding up and down dirt roads around mountains and following the jagged coastline of the east. Eglisstadir is the only major town in the east, and we stopped for gas, a bacon-wrapped hotdog, and another call to Duane. After 4 rings, this time, he picked up.
“DUANE!!!! How are you?? Where are you!?? What happened?”
“uh…yeah, I just got out of jail.”
“what!?”
It turns out that 6 hours before he was supposed to leave on his flight, while he was on the way to the store to get supplies for the trip, the police pulled him over and took him to jail, where he stayed for 4 days. It seems there was some horrendous mix-up where he was keeping some Habitat for Humanity supplies (Duane leads HFH operations in St. Bernard Parish, New Orleans) in a city school building that was being torn down. He went there with some volunteers one night to get their supplies out, someone saw them leaving and reported it to the police. They thought he was stealing the supplies and a week and a half later found him and arrested him. Most of his bosses were on vacation, so they kept him in jail for 4 days.
Lauren and I were obviously shocked at this incredibly terrible luck, and that such a basic mistake could cost him his trip to Iceland, the whole reason that we were there. We had thought of lots of reasons that Duane might not have been able to call…but jail sure wasn’t one of them! Though obviously down, Duane said “at least I got a break from work.”
There was nothing we could do but get back on the road and keep driving, but the whole thing was pretty upsetting. At least Duane was OK, but what a crazy, unlucky, immensely unfortunate mistake to make us miss out on the time together. Rather then pausing after every amazing sight and saying “but where’s Duane!?”, from this point on we switched to “but poor Duane!” What an incredible, crazy story!?
Tired by the hours of driving and down about Duane, we continued on and finally made it near to our camp for the night at about 3pm. Before camping, we wanted to make the 24km trek to Detifoss, Europe’s largest waterfall, and turned up a poor dirt track that followed the river through a grey moonscape. The road got worse and worse, and we started to hit patches of dirt and deep puddles, so filthy you couldn’t tell how deep they were. The car quickly became caked in red mud, and while sending up walls of water going through the puddles at full speed started as fun, the drive became pretty treacherous quickly and getting stuck or damaging the car was a real possibly. We slowed down and battled our way along for what seemed like hours, finally making it to the clearing for the waterfall. I was impressed to see that we were the only 2WD vehicle in the parking lot, while Lauren was just happy to step out of the car alive.
The landscape around the falls was bleak and inhumane, with jagged rocks everywhere and barely any signs of plants or life. There were patches of snow and not a soul in sight, and the walk down to the falls felt like we were exploring the edge of the world. Dettifoss fit the harshness of the scene perfectly, and the violence of the falls was incredible. It was just jagged, angry water the whole way down, and after awhile you actually felt bad for the water droplets that had to go over this jagged cliff of doom. It was thunderously powerful and overwhelming. We walked a circuit down the river to another waterfall, and made it back to the car as the sun was getting low. A much slower drive back got us over the 24km road in one piece, and we made it to our campsite on lake Myvatn at sunset.
After another freezing and cramped night in the car, we were pretty tired of car camping and happy for the accommodation we’d booked for our next 3 nights. Today (day 6) was our whale-watching day, and we got cleaned up and made the 1 hour drive north to Husavik on the coast by 10. We stopped by the whale-watching stand to confirm our 1pm trip, only to find that that was canceled due to bad weather expected, but there was a boat leaving in 3 minutes. We raced to the car, grabbed every warm piece of clothing we had, and made it to the boat just before they headed off. We were given these sweet lined whaling cover-alls, which were stylish and functional, as the pictures will show. Our captain was a pudgy, red-faced man with a huge grin, and (best of all) one of those sweet fur-lined Russian winter hats with the flaps on the sides. This guy was the real deal.
We were at sea for 3 hours, and spent most of that time scanning the choppy water and trying to face away from the driving rain. We were only a few miles from the Arctic Circle here and it definitely felt like it. I don’t see any need to ever go further north than this, and it is pretty impressive to look at a map and see we were north of Hudson Bay in Canada and most of Alaska. We spotted the fin of a Minke Whale and a few large birds, but most of the animal life had, sensibly, gone somewhere much warmer after summer. Our guide told us we would pass close to Puffin Island, which was pretty exciting until she added that all of the birds flew to Cuba at the end of August. A round of hot chocolates and cinnamon buns as we came into port made it all alright though, and we did get to see lots of pictures and skeletons of whales in the Husavik Whale Museum where we spent the afternoon. We finished our time in the town with some great seafood chowder and headed back to lake Myvtan and our hotel.
Day 7 we awoke in the warm comfort of our hotel room, and it was nice to be able to feel my nose through the whole day, instead of just the second half. We headed off on a tour around the volcanic lake and made stops at several sites to take hikes and explore. We climbed the 2000-year-old Hverfell explosion crater and walked around the rim, then wandered among the strange stone pillars and arches formed in the Dimmuborgir lava field. Finally, we visited Iceland’s most spectacular lava field, the Krafla area. In the 1970s drilling that was being done for a geothermal power plant is thought to have triggered a series of eruptions called the Krafla Fires. The plant is now built and functioning, but the ground in the area rises and falls through the year as magna moves around below the surface.
As we drove up towards Krafla, we passed the eerie space-station-like power plant. With huge pipes crisscrossing the snow and blasts of steam pouring out of valves and holes in the mountain, it looked like the evil lair of a Bond villain. The temperature dropped noticeably as we climbed at it started to snow, really setting the stage well for Krafla. We got out of the car and headed down the trail that, until recently, was guarded by a huge sign warning visitors that this was a dangerous area and volcanic activity could begin with short notice. Apparently the sign was such a draw for tourists that they took it down and I guess you just have to assume from the ominous, steaming landscape that it’s not particularly safe.
We walked passed a steaming lake smelling of sulfur that had stained the surrounding rocks all sorts of different colors. A poorly marked trail led into the black lava field, and the snow drifts interspersed with black, jagged rocks made it look like some sort of Oreo Cookie landscape. We walked along the path, avoiding razor sharp rocks that hadn’t been around long enough to be smoothed by erosion, and got some good pictures of us in front of what was obviously a volcano of some kind. The whole area was wild and downright sinister…we were pretty happy to make it back to the car unscathed and head back down to town.
We picked up a group of 3 cold backpackers from Switzerland who asked for a ride down to town, and they invited us in for tea and Swiss Chocolate, which Lauren wisely accepted. It was fun to hear about their experiences in Iceland, and they loved that Lauren was from Springfield, and kept talking about Simpson’s characters. We got their emails and hit the road, making a 3-hour drive to the north west of the island and arriving at our hostel there just before 10.
This put us in good position for our last day exploring, and we made it out to the tip of the Snaefellsnes Peninsula by mid-day. This area is famous for the Snaefellsjokull glacier which is the point where Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth begins: the explorers enter through a crack in this icecap. After our last glacier walk, I was excited to make it back onto a glacier again, and it was really disappointing to learn that the tourist office that runs trips up the mountain to the glacier was closed for the season. Not one to give up too easily, we found a jeep-track on the map that went up to the glacier, and made it 12 of the 14km to the edge of ice, before we crested a hill to enter a world of nothing but white. The car got stuck in the snow, and I had to concede that yes, it was physically impossible to make it to the glacier.
We had a great afternoon driving and walking along the coastline anyway, and enjoyed a clear and sunny last day. We made it back to Reykjavik after our 6 day trek just as it got dark, and managed to rally for one last night in the capital. There was a great all-you-can-eat seafood place in our guide book, and we enjoyed a nice last dinner there, before wandering the streets to check out some of the colorful corrugated metal architecture and interesting art and clothing shops. We joked about how Reykjavik would actually be a pretty cool city to live in, and how crazy it would be to actually do that. Until about 4 months ago I didn’t know that there was a place called Reykjavik.
The next morning we were off bright and early to return our battered and filthy rental car, which had been our home for 8 days, and fly back to Heathrow and our “home” here in England. It was a wild, amazing, and exhausting vacation, but one we are so glad we were able to go on. Duane was right about Iceland, and the trip is definitely dedicated to him, poor guy. We hope to see him soon.
And now, the link you’ve all been waiting for…our trip pictures!
Enjoy.
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