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.