Time to go home.

Good morning, last day in Iceland! Let's start off right with a hot coffee and bowl of granola, topped with Skyr and raspberry jam. Not good enough? How about heading to the aquatic center in Reykjavik, next to the city center campground, for a hot shower and a soak in the geothermal pools? Good. Now pack up those bags - they'll never fit on the plane that way, contents exploded all over the back of the Duster! Too much stuff? Just leave the excess in the campground's gear swap - it'll go to another needy traveler. That's it, don't need that leaky tent, the well-worn sneakers. The table and chairs can stay too, as well as the food box - someone will use it! Alright, drop off that postcard, then it's off to downtown for some last minute shopping! You can stock up on all the chocolate-covered licorice you can fit in your bag, then it's hot dogs for lunch! But these aren't just ANY hot dogs, they are the famous Icelandic lamb hot dogs, topped with dark mustard, remoulade and crispy onions. Even Bill Clinton ate these hot dogs when he visited the country! They are a must!

Alright, one last gas-up before returning the beloved Duster, then it's time to check in! This should be a relatively smooth process: Boarding passes? Check! Odd luggage drop-off? Check! Vat refund? Check!(well, almost. Those sweaters from the little farm don't count. Boo.) A quick pass through security and passport control and we are on the other side. Now is the time to stock up on bottles of that delicious Brennivin you enjoyed all through the trip, a quick walk about the crowded airport(darn Iceland and its skyrocketing popularity!), and any last stops you need to make before boarding. Before you know it, you'll be cruising through the sky, over Greenland, then the Canadian Shield, 34 000 in the air, pouring over your trip notes and remembering what a wonderful time you had camping your way around such a beautiful country as Iceland.





Until next time.

Touring the Golden Circle

This morning's wake-up call consisted of little birds tap-dancing on the roof of the car. We have coffee and granola while looking out at our own private volcanic valley - not another soul around to disturb the tranquility. Seems like a fitting way to start the day touring the biggest tourist attractions in Iceland, doesn't it? Going from the completely isolated to the overly crowded? Yes, well, later - first, we hit the local aquatic center in Selfoss for hot showers and hot tub-soaking. Such an untapped, inexpensive resource, and WAY better than those crazy lukewarm rivers and natural hot springs - so overrated!

Off we go again, with one last complete day to enjoy the natural wonders of Iceland. We kept the big ticket items for last, the big three in the Golden Circle area, the sights that EVERYONE wants to see on their layovers in Iceland, and where all the tour buses begin their routes. After 10 days at the furthest reaches of the island, we will now immerse ourselves into the stream of tourists. And...GO.

First stop is for lunch, at the Friðheimar greenhouse, growers of the majority of Iceland's tomatoes, basil and cucumbers. Here, they use geothermal energy to power grow-lights 12-18 hours a day, to produce optimal growing conditions for the plants. What's really cool is that they also serve a buffet lunch every day, IN the greenhouse, of tomato soup, cucumber salsa(more of a pickle) and freshly-baked breads. So you can come and see the tomatoes, and eat the tomatoes, while sitting AMONG the tomatoes. And the soup was soooo good, just a little sweet, just a little spicy, topped with the cucumber salsa and a dollop of thick Skyr. The breads were all different, some topped with cheese, some studded with olives, some brown and rolled in seeds, all delicious. We ate our fill and then some.

Second, we head to the most famous waterfall in Iceland, Gullfoss. What makes it stand out from all the others(and the are LOTS) is that it weaves down a narrow valley, falling over one 45 degree cliff, then a second reverse 45 degree cliff, finishing in another narrow valley. This creates maximum visual impact in a small space. Unlike other large falls, you can only access Gullfoss from one side, and though the walkways are excellent, they are PACKED with people - either lone travelers like ourselves, or bus tours. While we were there, we counted up to bus # 19. Yikes. Combine that with a too small parking lot, small access roads(one approach is on gravel!) and a welcome center that is still trying to catch up, and you have the perfect example of how Iceland has gotten more popular than they are ready for. Hopefully they figure themselves out before it gets ugly.

Third, we continued down the road to nearby Geysir, an active volcanic area where the original geysir is found. That's right, the reason it's called a geysir is because it is the Icelandic word for the water spouting effect. No word existed before this discovery. Geysir, however, is on a cycle of low activity, so it's basically a pool of boiling sulfuric water. Lucky for us, its neighbor, Strokkur, spouts off a blast of water and steam quite regularly, and so everyone stands around, fingers poised over shutter buttons, waiting for that moment to arrive. Steam rises, the water bubbles and boils, the surface expands, and WHOOOOOOSH, a cloud of hot vapour shoots into the sky, eliciting a few shrieks and gasps from the crowd. Water rains down into the surrounding run-off pools and the whole cycle begins again, every 5 to 7 minutes. It's exhilarating to watch, and yet over so quickly. The rest of the area houses a few more geysirs, steaming and bubbling away, but Strokkur is the real show.

Insert here a pit stop at the Efstidalur dairy farm for homemade ice cream in flavours of rhubarb and strawberry, an interlude with newborn calves, and small children feeding sheep with baby bottles. Onwards!

The next must-see on the Golden Circle tour is Thingvellir National Park, the birthplace of the Icelandic government and the site of the signing of the country's independence in 1944. It is also located in the great rift valley, the point at which the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates are being pulled apart at a rate of up to 18 mm per year. Needless to say, it is an awe-inspiring place. Add to that the surrounding mountains, the intense geological formations throughout, the waterfall cutting through the center and into the largest lake in the country, and you have an impressively spectacular location. Immense in size and crisscrossed by trails, here the crowds are less noticeable, being more spread all over the site. We also noticed that standard tours finish up somewhere around dinner time, so the longer we stayed into the evening, the quieter it got. Remember, natural wonders don't have opening hours!

We stopped at a rest area next to a vast open field, with a single solitary farm house off in the distance, surrounded by mountains. Mario brewed coffee out of the back of the Duster as I scribbled in my notebook. This quiet routine has become our "normal" these past ten days; it will be hard to throw ourselves back into the hustle and bustle back home.

And as if trying to avoid civilization for as long as possible, we find a quiet campground on the outskirts of the town of Mosfellsbaer, north of Reykjavik, for our last night in Iceland. Up on a hill, overlooking the rivers below, listening to the squawking of the birds and a lone plane flying over the fjords, we cook up our last camp dinner and watch the long sunset. We drink the last of the Brennivin alongside squares of licorice chocolate, and once again attempt to browse through our photos before falling asleep, without success.

Change of plan

We paid for two nights' camping in Landmannalaugar, to take advantage of the day hiking in the area - more on that later...It's a cold, cold morning in the mountains, made no more comfortable by the fact that everything touching the bottom of the tent got wet. But it's ok, we just put on another layer of clothing, warm lamb's wool sweaters, and fill our bellies with hot apple oatmeal and big cups of coffee.

This morning's goal is to attack one of those wonderful day hikes, the 13.3 km loop to Ljotipollur, or "ugly puddle", but the skies threaten rain, so we pack all the rain gear, sandwiches and snacks, bottles of water, then set out for adventure. The walking in this part of the highlands is awe-inspiring: rainbow-striped mountains in reds and purples and browns on one side of us, moss is every shade of green imaginable on the other, brilliant blue lakes scattered throughout, all dotted by pitch black lave rocks and hiking paths. Every new turn is another gorgeous vista, every vista incites even more photo-taking - my memory card is over-flowing. How much MORE beautiful could it possibly get when the skies are not so grey?!

Soon, though, the wind picks up, and then the drizzle begins, and we just barely have time to finish our sandwiches and don our rain gear when the rain falls. We continue our walk with renewed energy from lunch, and maybe from wanting to be back at camp, and dry, and maybe just to make sure that our tent is not floating down river.

Turns out, our tent is not exactly as waterproof as it once was, so we extract what we can and hide out in the shelter of the Duster for the afternoon, reading and napping, and planning our tour of the Golden Circle. The rain is unrelenting, and soon we have thoughts of desertion - yes, we have paid up camp for 2 nights, but neither Mario nor I can see ourselves lasting the night out here with the weather continuing as it is. Rather than being stuck here, we might as well be in the car, but moving, so Mario scoops up the tent, soaking wet, and we accept defeat, fording the rivers out of camp while we still can and heading out of the highlands for good.

Remembering a rather vacant parking lot with toilets near the Settlement ruins, we opt to try our luck that they also allow camping overnight...and lo and behold, lucky us, as there is no sign forbidding it! In fact, the back of the toilets are set up like an outdoor kitchen, with sinks, running HOT water AND a roof to shelter us from the rain! It's like an invitation to spend the night! While I cook up a hearty meal of chili to warm us, Mario dries out the tent in the wind and resets the Duster for sleeping mode. We eat dinner overlooking the vast valley below us, with nothing but the sound of sheep braying in the distance to break the silence. We may have lost a second night of camping fees, but this experience makes up for it in spades.

And we get to sleep another night in the Duster! Hee!

Vikings and Landmannalaugar

Leaving our campsite in Skaftafell this morning is bittersweet, because it is so beautiful, the services are great, and the hiking is good. We must, however, move one, as there is still more of the island left to see, and we must continue chasing the sun!

We chart a course for the nearest town, Vik, to pick up food for the rest of our trip, gas up the car, and visit the Icewear factory outlet. Here, we see how the garments are knit by machines, and buy about 1.5 lambs' worth of woolen goods because, well, Iceland. Being so close already, we make a quick detour to Reynisfjara, home of the dangerous black beach, where sneaker waves can hit and drown unsuspecting tourists (It's true!). It is also the home to gorgeous basalt cliffs, towering black rock "castles" sitting out in the ocean, and colonies of nesting seabirds in the overhead cliffs, including PUFFINS! We lie on the ground looking up, watching the rather awkward birds taking flight out to sea, then coming back in for uncoordinated landings. They are rather comical creatures. We gather up handfuls of round black pebbles on the beach, volcano seeds, rolling them around in our pockets and our hands. We eat ham and cheese sandwiches perched on the hexagonal basalt columns, becoming the bane of every tourist's photos.

Our ultimate goal for the day is the remote hikers' camp Landmannalaugar, part of a 5-day hike through the Icelandic interior. By car, it is quite difficult to get to, travelling through the highlands. Along the way, we first stop at a recreation of the oldest know Settlement farm in Iceland. A large turf roof long house contains common areas, sleeping quarters, a pantry and lavatory, and probably housed a large family and all their help. Like a village under one roof. It's quiet and cozy and incredibly sturdy in its construction, and probably really warm, too. It's helpful to see what the long house would have looked like, as next we bounce down an f-road to the actual ruins of the same long house, the inspiration for the layout of the recreated Settlement. Everything here is now so much clearer now that that we know what we are looking at and what we are supposed to see. Very interesting.

Further down the path at the ruins, we discover a gorge full of waterfalls, all coming from different directions, surrounding us, falling into the pools below and converging in the same river, then flowing downstream. A scene from Game of Thrones was shot in this very spot, but neither of us recognizes it. Mario thinks it must have been shot in winter, as part of the story north of the wall, but I'm not so sure...more research is needed.

Now we begin the long trek into the unknown, the bumpy, lumpy F-roads into the highlands, into Landmannalaugar. We weave between the pylons of a nearby hydro power plant, trying to avoid all of the monster potholes that cover the track, like a slice of Swiss cheese. In the end, it is WAY less stressful than the climb from Dreki to Askja, and I am glad that Mario got that practice in already. I am less happy about the two rivers that we have to ford between the main parking and the campground. Sneaky Iceland.

We desperately try to find high ground on which to set up camp, as the entire site seems to be a flood plain for the nearby mountain run-off. Satisfied our tent won't float away in the night, we head to the nearby natural hot springs, a nearby river where a sulfuric vent heats one river, that then mixes with a larger, cooler river to create the perfect temperature for lounging. Sadly, it's a flawed system, as the water mixes unevenly due to people sitting in from of the hot streams, blocking the direction of the hot water flow. The approach to the springs, about 100 m, is through cold river water, so you cool off by the time you get out. And all that would be so much of a problem after a nice hot shower, but here, the hot water cost money(WHAT?!), the registration desk is closed for the night, and we only realize AFTER I am already under a cold stream of water. I am cold, wet, and no longer very relaxed when I finally fall in to bed.

Hiking in Skaftafell

Today was an awesome relax day, where we hiked the surrounding hills to the Svartifoss waterfall, had lunch, napped the afternoon away in the sun, then took a leisurely stroll to the Skaftafellsjökull glacier lagoon before dinner.

Total walking on this "rest" day? About 12 km. Go us.

Back on the road again tomorrow!

Ice and glaciers and lagoons, oh my!

Turns out, Höfn is the first big service town after contouring all the fjords, and the last before heading into the vast emptiness of the glacial run-off fields, or Sandars, so everyone driving the Ring Road stops here to rest and refuel. This means that the one campground in the center of town is happening place at ALL hours. Late into the night, we could hear campers talking loudly, banging pots and pans around in the kitchen area, setting up tents much more noisily than seems physically possible. Somewhere around 2 am, a group of Russians got into an argument, and THAT lasted an extra hour - and then the sun came up. So when we sluggishly rolled out of the tent, both Mario and I were EXHAUSTED, and DIRTY, as the campground offers over 400 spaces to camp, but only TWO showers.

There was only on way to fix this problem - we headed for the Höfn aquatic center. Every town in Iceland has one, and because of the ample amount of geothermal energy, all the pools are heated! Here, we were able to enjoy the relaxing benefits of hot tubs, a heated lap pool, waterslides(!), and plenty of shower and changing rooms with heated floors. On this quiet weekday morning, only a handful of locals were on site, reaping the benefits of the warm waters, so we joined them, soaking away the horrible night, steam rising into the air around us as a light drizzle fell. And the long hot shower afterwards couldn't have felt more refreshing or invigorating. We left an hour later, completely relaxed and ready to begin our day again.

Now we are heading along the south side of Iceland, known for the tongues of the Vatnajökull glacier, and the resulting run-off plains, or Sandars. It's a long, flat drive, not as visually intriguing as the fjords, but the reward is the glacier lagoons hidden at the end of each tongue. Large chunks of ice break off the glacier, and can sometimes float(or sit) in a lagoon for up to 5 years before becoming small enough to follow the evacuation river out to sea, where they eventually melt into nothingness. The most famous of these lagoons is Jökulsarlon - surrounded by outfitters providing Zodiac tours, amphibious boat rides, this is the lagoon all the tourists come to, with its big parking lots, on-site cafe and food trucks. It's awesome seeing such large glacial icebergs bobbing about, but the REAL fun is on the other side of the highway, where the same chunks of ice head out to sea, get stuck in the rising tide, and end up beached on the back sand. Imagine the clearest chunks of ice, some the most brilliant blue or the brightest white, the sand pitch black - then throw in striking beams of sunlight. It's magical. We could even pick up pieces of the bergs on the beach, breaking off chunks to taste. That's ice that has been frozen for thousands of years - try putting that into your scotch!(We saw someone in a campervan who did!)

Next stop, smaller and lesser-known Fjallsarlon. With brand-new facilities and walking tracks, this place is trying to draw some of the attention away from its more popular neighbor, but for the moment, it is a hidden gem of a place. The lagoon show for us was more impressive, with one particularly impressive chunk looking like a broken ring and garnering all the attention and photos, especially when the sun hit it just the right way. Obviously glacier lagoons experiences are different for everyone because they are ever-changing, but for our moment in time, it was an awesome show.

During these lagoon visits, we crafted ANOTHER script, this time for an online Japanese Anime short, where our hero, a run-of-the-mill ordinary guy, approaches people with there heads down in their devices. He first round-house kicks the phone from their hands, then open-fist punches them in the forehead. When they finally look up, dumb-founded, he yells much too loudly, as any good Japanese Anime character would, "LIVE IN THE MOMENT!", the cellphone flying into the sun overhead, where it disappears with a gleam.

From here we opted to chart a course for Skatafell, the main base camp for exploration of the Vatnajökull glacier and surrounding area. Many expeditions depart from here, as do a bunch of hiking trails. Plus, there is a great visitor's information centre and camping complex, which made it the perfect place to stay. And upon seeing the campground amenities(including the
BEST.BATHROOMS.EVER.), we opted to stay not for one night, but two.

In the Fjord, Out the Fjord. Repeat.

The night was cold and wet, and the morning much of the same - we hosted a baby goat in our tent vestibule overnight. Chilled to the bone, we moved slower than normal, hunched over hot coffee and oatmeal in the sunken turf roof kitchen, pouring over our map and guidebook. Given the weather, we opted for a travel day - more driving, but more time to relax in the warmth of Duster, charge our devices, with hopes of finding the sun somewhere on the east coast, hiding between the fjords.

It wasn't long before we reached Egilsstadir, stopping for an Icelandic lunch at the N1 gas station. Since distances between towns can be vast and empty, these service stations are the place for travelers to stock up. They supply fuel and car supplies, basic foodstuffs and camping gear, super-clean washrooms and phenomenal restaurant service. This is not your average snack bar fare - no, the food is remarkably high quality, with a full kitchen staff churning out dishes like Icelandic lamb stew, and a fish gratin called plokkfiskur, with fresh bread and butter. In the comfortable dining area, even in the middle of nowhere, we could enjoy a delicious meal while enjoying the view of the nearby mountains.

Following lunch we began chasing waterfalls, part two. After all, in a country covered in ice, being melted by so many underground volcanoes, the waterfalls are practically being thrown at us as we drive down the highway. More so heading east, where there is a significant drop in elevations from the highlands to the coast. As we descend into another fjord, heading for the picturesque town of Seydisfjordur, we are weaving back and forth over glacial run-off, with each drop producing another spectacular view and breath-taking waterfall. It's almost too much.


A moment to geek out: as we walk around the pretty little fjord-side town, we discover apples and oranges discarded in a large planter in the park(likely left behind by one of the patrons of the large cruise ship parked in the harbour). We come to the realization that we have been travelling through a real-life version of Legend of Zelda - Breath of the Wild. Wild horses grazing in fields, waiting to be mounted and tamed? Check. Tall craggy volcanoes, indicative of Death Mountain, and home of the Gorons? Check. Ice covered cliffs and cold temperatures of Hebra? Check. Rolling verdant hills of Hyrule to the west? Check. And now we are discovering fruit in hidden locations? I just wish we had already found the old man in the cave, because getting down from some of these mountain climbs would be so much easier with a handglider!


After climbing back out from Seydisfjordur, and contouring a whole bunch more, such as Fáskrúðsfjörður, Stöðvarfjörður, Breiðdalsvík, Berufjörður, and experiencing a small hiccup with the Duster(a useless sensor tripped - we called the rental company and it's a common fault for this make of car, so nothing to be worried about), we decided Höfn was as good a place as any to call it a night.

How wrong we were...

Foggy Volcano-crossing

Even bigger adventure awaits today, as we pack our gear, inhale bowls of oatmeal and Skyr, say goodbye to the duckies. The volcanoes are calling, and we must go. More specifically, Askja, a 50-km-square caldera, and hidden within, the mineral-rich blue water of the Viti crater. Plus, a challenging 80 km drive along the F-roads into the Highlands, using our little Duster to its fullest potential, with a couple of river crossings thrown in for good measure - Let's go!

It's not long before we turn off the Ring Road onto gravel. We pass by a village farmstead, with turf roof houses and a goat wandering about. Last stop before leaving civilization - there's gas, snacks and washrooms, plus camping and guesthouses available. We buy lamb's wool sweaters and coffee, and keep the camping option in mind.




Next came the most strenuous 80 km of off-road driving I've ever witnessed, and I give all the credit to Mario for getting us through unscathed and still happy. First it was gravel - easy. Gravel lead to small rocks, which lead to bigger rocks. Streams lead to small puddles, which lead to large puddles we had to cross, which lead to actual rivers we had to FORD - and successfully, I might add. Luckily, the BIG rivers had bridges(and thank goodness for that!), but then we entered the lava fields, with sharp rocks to contour, bumps and climbs to navigate. We traverse soft, deep black sand - the only easy part since it reacts the same as heavy snow back home.

At some point in all of this, we reach the Dreki base camp next to the Askja crater. One last climb to the car park awaits, but as we begin the ascent, heavy fog descends upon us. And when I say heavy, I mean so dense that can barely see the road, and are basically navigating from on road marker to the next. And they are maybe 20 ft. apart. It's scary, because we can't tell what surrounds us. We could have sheer cliffs on either side, and be inches away from certain death. There could be marauders, or vikings, or dragons! Relief washes over us when we spot other vehicles, an outhouse, the car park, but then torrential rain falls. GREAT. So we stretch out in the Duster, myself in the front, Mario in the back, make PB & J sandwiches, and wait out the storm in comfort.

Once we finally venture outside, the rain has lightened up, bu the fog is just as dense. We have to navigate the 2.5 km hiking trail along the crater much the same way as the drive up here, route marker to rote marker. But then the sky begins to clear, just enough to reveal the crater lakes and the vastness of what we just walked over. BREATH-TAKING.

We climb down the sticky mud slope to the edge of the lake, and find ourselves on a beach of multi-coloured lava stones. It feels, and sound, like we should be in a national park in the middles of Ontario. Instead of pine trees, the view across the water is lava cliffs, black rock striped with yellow sulfur and white silica. Small tidal pools along the shore are steaming, heated by underground geothermal vents. We admire the ability of a bright green algae to flourish here of all places, where no other life exists. Primordial soup.

Back up to the crater, Mario decided he wants to swim in the milky blue waters of Viti - which is totally do-able, the pool being a warm 25 degrees C, but the climb down is steep and slick with mud. So he makes like a seal, sliding his way down to the bottom, and then into the water he goes. I watch along with a few other spectators from the rim of the caldera.

The route back down is just as breath-taking, now that the fog had lifted and we can see everything! The volcano is SO vast, SO gaping, it seems to go on forever. The driving route is much the same, but new again now that we can gaze upon it. It's like driving a new road even though we've been here before! So we head back through the sand and lava fields and boulders, through the big rocks and small rocks into the gravel. We successfully ford those two rivers again, making all the quips about Oregon Trail and Tom dying from Dysentery. We splash through the puddles as it is getting late, but happen upon the campground in the farmstead with the turf roof houses, Modrudalur, or "sweater town" as we now affectionately call it. We decide the day has been long enough, and this is a great place to call it quits.

Myvatn rest day

I'm tired from lack of sleep - well, YOU try sleeping with the lights on all the time! Mario, on the other hand, is tired from all the long distance driving he's been doing - which I can't help with since we rented a manual vehicle. Mario proposes a "rest" day: We stay another night on Lake Myvatn, and explore the area further through several small excursions, given than this is a highly active volcanic region and there is lots to see. I agree.

A quick stop for postcards, money and hike information for later on, and we hit the road for nearby Viti crater lake, in the shadow of Krafla mountain. Brilliant blue from mineral content, and surrounded by sulfur gas vents, Viti is at the northern end of the Krafla power plant zone. A trail runs up and around the caldera, and then down inside, near the vents. We follow the path, gazing down into not one, but three separate pools of milky blue water, as the volcanic mud cakes our hiking boots. Next to us, large white pipes carry highly pressurized steam to the geothermal plant. This very image inspired the impromptu writing of a movie scene where the main character, a spy, injured and cornered, uses a nearby sharp rock to break the pipe, releasing the steam and burning his enemy in the process. I'll spare you the rest of the details here, but suffice it to say, we were cracking each other up all the way down.

Heading back down further cakes our boots with Krafla(our affectionate nickname for all this sticky mud)- so much so that it adds about an inch of height and several extra pounds of weight. And it's not easy to remove, either, forcing us to remove our boots upon returning to the Duster.

By now, the drizzle that has set in has turned to full on rain pelting us in our rain jackets, but we press on - aiming for the Leirhrjurur Solfatars, the lava fields just across the valley from us. Jackets on and hoods up, we venture forth, into the black, craggy landscape, riddles with sulfur vents and bubbling mud ponds. We climb above the valley into the hardened path of a once-erupting volcano, lava flow sometimes porous and light, sometimes smooth and ribboney, and hard as glass. We think the path is circular, but it seems to pull away from our starting point, and if we keep going, we could end up walking all the way back to our campsite...We instead turn around.

It's a quick hop down to the Krafla Geothermal Power Station, where we take a quick look around the information centre, indulge in a complimentary coffee (or two), and remove most of the Krafla from our boots, then another short jump back to the Ring Road towards Lake Myvatn.

We briefly stop at Grjotagja, a grotto hiding an underground hot spring, made famous in the television series Game of Thrones. This means that all the big bus tours stop here, and suddenly the rather small cave is flooded with people, climbing in and out and all over the place in the ultra-small cave. We manage to just squeeze in a grab a couple of shots, before hightailing back out again - just another check on the list, really.

As per the conditions of our "rest" day(which has not been super restful thus far!), Mario drives me back to the campsite, with the lake view, and the duckies. Not one to sit still for long, he heads back out to hike another crater, while I relax the afternoon away. I watch the ducks paddle by, I take a nice LONG hot shower(thank you, geothermal energy!), I do some laundry, and catch up on my blog. Oh, and I might have indulged in a glass or two of the Icelandic drink of choice, Brennivin, a bottle of which has followed us throughout the trip.

This evening found us, and just about everyone else in the campground, sitting on the grassy knolls by the water, eating supper and watching the most AMAZING sunset over Lake Myvatn. Two loons floated by, joining the families of quackers casting silhouettes in all my photographs.

Chasing Waterfalls

It's a beautiful, sunny morning in Siglufjordur. In the back of the truck, we wake up to perfect blue skies. It's like the country is inviting us in, apologizing for yesterday's damp weather, encouraging us to have a look around. We take the offer, wandering through the little fishing village, morning fog still hanging low in the mountains. We stop in at the town bakery for a bag of kleinur, a local fried pastry twist, not unlike a doughnut. This would be an interesting place to stay a while, get to know better, especially with its upcoming herring festival(!), but for now, the fjords are calling.

Back on the road, we experience what is considered to be the more "accessible" Iceland. Once, these northern towns were isolated, accessible only by boat, or by roads winding in and out of every fjord up here, some reaching as deep as 60 km! Recently, tunnels have been dug THROUGH the mountains, cutting the travel time down from days to only hours. It also opened up some pretty incredible vistas to the casual traveler, which we discovered every time we exited into the light. Amazing AND breath-taking.

Existing one such tunnel brought us to the town of Akureyri, the second-largest in all of Iceland. We discovered that it is also the home to the Northern-most botanical gardens in the world, which of we just HAD to visit - after all, they were free! Plus, what fun to see gardens that so closely resemble our frigid Zone 3 plots back home! I am so jealous of the towering delphiniums, the gorgeous variety of poppies, the bug-free Columbines in a myriad of colours and sizes...I took a few reference photos for varieties to seek out at home!

A quick snack of kleinur doughnuts with blueberry jam(left behind at the rental office - score!) on the cliff overlooking Akureyri, and off we went to continue our exploration for the day, this time in search of waterfalls!

In Iceland, all these glaciers give off lots of run-off, which means lots of waterfalls - and big ones at that! Heading towards Lake Myvatn, we found several, beginning with Godafoss, right off the Ring Road. This meant that it was very accessible, and so very popular. We opted to hike up to the back of the falls, along newly constructed pathways - leading to gravel - leading to corded-off areas - leading to a simple "BEWARE" sign. Iceland is growing exponentially - word is 1.3 MILLION tourists will visit the island of 300,000 inhabitants this year ALONE - and so the major attractions are in a constant state of growth and expansion. However they are still following the European model we've seen, and relying on people's ability to use their own common sense to stay safe. I worry that at the rate of Iceland's popularity growth, it soon won't be enough, but I digress. Either way, Godafoss was beautiful and worth the stop regardless of the people, and I knew better than to get too close to the edge. Mario, on the other hand, does like to push boundaries...

Sailing past Lake Myvatn on the N1, we headed north, on to a rather lunar-esque desolate plateau, strewn with lava rocks, aiming for the the twin falls of Selfoss and Dettifoss. In the middle of NOWHERE, we found a beautiful yet empty rest stop, where we paused for lunch. We ate ham sandwiches sitting in our IKEA folding chairs, looking out at the emptiness of it all. Only here - the was absolutely NO ONE else.

Selfoss and Dettifoss were large and impressive, and surprisingly opposite to each other. Selfoss was the narrowing of a larger delta, the power of so much water being forced into such a small space, intense and humbling. The surrounding basalt cliffs were angular and alien to us. In contrast, the larger Dettifoss was more thundering and messy - its mist soaring into the sky, casting not one but two rainbows, covering the neighboring rocks with carpets of moss, ferns and other curious vegetation. Here we could venture farther, down into the valley, close to the mist, into the splash zone. We got wet.

After another day full of lots of travel and lots of exploration, it's not surprise that we only pitched our tent at 10:30 pm, in Reykjalid, right next to Lake Myvatn, where we could watch the ducks glide by just out our front door. We cooked a meal of Icelandic lamb with rice pilaf in the windy night while the sun slowly lowered in the sky. Somewhere around 11 pm, people all over the campground emerged from the shelter of their tents to gaze upon the colourful spectacle above. Drizzle fell, and suddenly the sunset was competing for our attention with a double rainbow. Of course, with the onslaught of rain, everyone was forced into the comfort of the sleeping bags for the night.