Geysir

I didn't take many (for me) photos on this bus tour. Certainly, the weather could have been less rainy, even if it was typical. Could it be possible that I've become jaded by pre-packaged natural beauty, after so many days in the National Parks?

Geysir

Still, Geysir was pretty neat to walk around, especially climbing the big hill to take the previous photo. And I did take a video, which I previously posted here. I love the smell of H₂S in the morning...

Waiting for the show

Whoosh!

The Golden Circle

In first two episodes of The Amazing Race 6 which aired in November 2004, teams descended upon Iceland for the first time. It certainly was nice to see the country again on the small screen, getting major attention in North America, and amusing to watch contestants struggling to ask for directions to Þorsmörk. I'm glad that I got the chance to go there first (as it turns out, just a month before filming started). We were certainly a lot quieter in our time, minding our thorns (Þ, þ) and eths (Ð, ð). I'm especially glad that I didn't stop by the (in)famous Blue Lagoon, before I left.

Flashback: Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Today is standard half-day bus tour of the so-called Golden Circle, the quick, family-friendly spin of the major tourist sights near Reykjavík. Small children abound. However, the guides are very informative. Some interesting food for thought - Iceland has experienced four mild winters in a row, where "mild" means only 10" of snow, and a bad ski season. They've also had 27 consecutive months of above normal temperatures.

Our first stop is the crater called Kerið, meaning "tub".

Kerið crater

Back to the city

To this point, I've managed to avoid most of the commonly visited tourist attractions in Iceland, probably because I've managed to avoid most of Reykjavík and the western part of the island.

It's been a whirlwind 24 hours visiting the north, and tonight I return to Reykjavík, emerging from the wilderness, and slowly coming back into the mainstream.

Air Iceland flight 173

(Almost) to the Arctic

Enough of nature for today - it's time to head back to town. My private tour group is restored to three, after picking up two German back-packers at the exit of the Park. By now, we've reached the north coast and the Arctic ocean, along which runs the road to Húsavík. On arrival, there will be a stop for dinner at the petrol station/diner, and a brief walk around the block.

As unique as Iceland is, this part of the country does remind me of one other place - Newfoundland. Let's see what similarities I can come up with, off the top of my head:

1. Barren rock in the middle of the ocean, but very lush and green in some places (in summer, at least - I've never been to either place in winter, but I'm told that neither are as much fun when the skies go dark and the temperature drops below freezing).

On the way to Húsavík

2. Rich tradition of fishing, but quickly branching into tourism and many new, modern fields after economic recession.

Húsavík

3. Fiercely proud, sometimes quirky inhabitants, with a language/accent not spoken anywhere else.

Icelandic Phallological Museum

Case in point: If you were looking for it in Reykjavík, only to discover that it had recently relocated, the Icelandic Phallological Museum is indeed now in Húsavík.

Ásbyrgi Canyon

The Scottish-American couple disembark at the entrance to the Ásbyrgi campground, and this has now become a private tour.

According to Icelandic legend, the canyon was formed when Sleipnir, the mighty eight-legged flying horse of Óðinn, touched down with one foot.

Path to Ásbyrgi Canyon

According to Icelandic science, the canyon was carved out in a matter of days, by a catastrophic jökullhlaup, flowing northwards from Vatnajökull.

Whatever the cause, it's clear that massive forces were at work, moving enormous amounts of material.

Ásbyrgi Canyon - Botnstjörn

There's not enough time to get to and back from the canyon lookout, which the driver assures me is the best part of this park. Oh well - have to leave something for next time.

Hljóðaklettar

To be honest, I'm still not entirely certain how the name of this place is pronounced. Or Jökulsárgljúfur for that matter. The Icelandic pronunciation guide at the back of the Lonely Planet doesn't seem to match up with reality. Maybe it's the British/Australian slant of the authors and the Lonely Planet company. Before I come back next time, I'll have to call up the Icelandic consulate to see about getting a few hours of basic language training. But then, who would have thought the town of Höfn would be pronounced the way the locals do?

To quote the Lonely Planet:

The town's name, which simply means 'harbour', is pronounced like an unexpected hiccup; if you're not prone to hiccups, just say 'hup' while inhaling.

Hljóðaklettar means the "echo rocks" - lumps of basalt, large and small, many with elaborate stories behind them.

Tröllið - the Troll Rock

Here is another view, which gives a better idea of the scale of these geological features.

Hljóðaklettar - another view

Once again, on the sloping, uneven surfaces and piles of angular rock, the boots prove to be an ankle-saver.

Rough road ahead

Kirkjan - the Church

The road to Ásbyrgi

By now, our group had shrunk down to the serious terrain crowd - myself and a couple, being driven down the valley, in a small 12-seater mini-bus. I had overheard some fragments of their conversation from just out of earshot, but could not identify which foreign language they were speaking.

Now in our more confined mode of transport, we started talking. Turns out, he's just Scottish, with a very, very strong accent. She's an American, who met him while living in the UK. On our next stop, they're looking for a quiet stroll together. I leave them to it, and forge down into the valley alone.

Which way?

The most useful feature of GPS isn't being able to know your exact co-ordinates to within a few metres. It's knowing where you are relative to where you've been, or need to be. With a distance and bearing back to the bus in the parking lot, current ground speed, and a calculated ETA, you can venture out with confidence. As long as you have fully charged backup batteries, and an old-fashioned, reliable compass (just in case).

Hafragilsfoss

Valley lookout

Falling water

A couple of weeks ago, on the bus to Skaftafell, there was a German tourist, who was headed for a return trip to Dettifoss. He showed us some of his photos, taken several years ago. Although not really on the Continent, it is touted as the most powerful waterfall in Europe, by volume. The picture was quite impressive, complete with rainbow, and I was looking forward to seeing it in person.

Dettifoss

Niagara Falls is more photogenic perhaps, but I'll take this over the crowds, tourist traps, tour boats, and casinos. No railings here - you can get pretty close. For a sense of how large this wall of water is, note the people on the opposite shore.

Dettifoss up close

Further upstream, on the same river, Selfoss seems positively tranquil in comparison.

Selfoss

Selfoss up close

Á, Á, Á!

The road to Jökulsárgljúfur National Park is a bumpy one. We'd already switched to a smaller bus, more suitable for the terrain. However, the ride is still very jarring.

The SBA tour is the only one which travels the western shore of the Jökulsá á Fjöllum. Rivers are so omni-present in Iceland, that the letter (word) á means river. It is pronounced "ow".

We'd learned another Icelandic word - öræfi - as in Öræfajökull. The wasteland. Getting off the bus, you can see the very definition of the word.

Lunar-like terrain

Now you're playing with power

At Reykjahlíð, our guide departs, and our group breaks up according to different interests.

Reykjahlíð

Some head to the restaurants and inns. The rest head for the hills (volcanoes actually).

Krafla

Víti (Hell) crater

This is still a geologically active area, which for better or worse, has been tapped for geothermal power generation.

Kröflustöð geothermal power plant

In operation since the mid-70's, the Krafla plant now produces a respectable 60 MW.
More controversial is the diatomite plant just down the road. [Let's not get started about the Alcoa smelter and hydroelectric dam in the East Fjords.]

Kísilgúrverksmiðja diatomite plant

Lake of Midges

Mývatn literally means "midge lake". Insects hadn't really been a problem on this trip up to now. The grass-flattening wind at the lake ensured that today would also remain midge-free. The type of wind that would proverbially sand-blast your car in the dustier southern region.

Mývatn

This wetland region is known for its rich flora and fauna (including the midges). As our guide explains, its origin is volcanic, and catastrophic floods of meltwater from sub-glacial eruptions have swept through in the past - a landscape changing phenomenon known called a jökullhlaup (I think we know that term).

Lava deposits

Waterfall of the Gods

In the year 1000, Þorgeir, Law-Speaker of the Alþing, had to decide whether Iceland would adopt Christianity. After long deliberation, the answer was yes. He cast his now-forbidden pagan totems into a waterfall, which came to be known as Goðafoss - the Waterfall of the Gods.

Goðafoss

Geitafoss, downstream from Goðafoss

Waiting for the bus

On the taxi ride to the hostel the previous night, I had asked the driver to point out the SBA bus terminal, even pronouncing it the local way (ess-bee-ah) to help shorten the neural pathways and ease the burden on his somewhat weaker English. Combined with my midnight tour of the city, I knew exactly where to go. This would be a hectic day, with multiple connections, eventually ending back in Reykjavík about 15 hours later. There was no room for error, so of course, I showed up and the terminal was not yet open.

After 20 minutes sitting on a bench in the sun, the doors opened, and I was finally able to get some food. Good old skinka samloka (ham sandwich - without a dictionary, I still wasn't 100% sure at the time exactly what skinka was) for breakfast, and a langloka (sub - literally a long sandwich?) for the road.

Some other tourists started showing up. From a previous camp conversation with Darren the part-time gear shop employee, I had already identified them as British, from their Berghaus rucksacks, before they said a word.

The SBA-Norðurleið system is a very impressive feat of logistics, combining a tour with local commuter service in a sparsely populated but beautiful part of the country. People would be getting on and off at various points, and with a single point-to-point ticket, you can build your own tour, combining a number of different routes and stop-overs. Mine would be off the beaten path, and not likely to be a common one. The first segment was a more touristy one, and included a guide. A quick check of tickets, and my day started rolling again....

Akureyri, from the other side of Eyjafjörður

To catch a bus

Flashback: Tuesday, July 27, 2004

About five hours after getting back to the hostel, it was time to leave. Since the office was not yet open, and I hadn't properly checked in those hours earlier, I stopped to write a quick note to drop in the box with my key. It was at this time that I finally met my first fellow tourist in Akureyri.

There was a woman in her underwear, setting the breakfast table. On top of that, she didn't speak English (definitely not an Icelander then!). It took a brief moment to negotiate a communications protocol, as we each cycled through a list of spoken languages, before finding a common one in French (which was not her first language either). And then we only exchanged a couple of sentences:

Yes, I realise that breakfast won't be ready for a while. But that's not a problem, since I'm leaving right now, for the SBA Terminal, to catch a bus. Thanks anyway, and au revoir.