Harry and Dave’s Trip to Iceland
July 2017
Prologue
I had promised Harry, my 16 year old son, that if he wanted, after he had completed his GCSE exams, I would take him on a little adventure, wherever, in reason, he wanted.
He said he’d like to go to Iceland. Without a millisecond of thought, I was onto it as it was somewhere that I had always wanted to go.
I was used to having little adventures on a motorcycle, so I had to think a little differently, but things soon fell into place.
We planned to fly out with camping gear, rent a 4x4 to be able to reach into the highlands see some sights and really wanted to see some whales. Other than that, bring it on.
Day 1
Every trip has its risks, from planes crashing to international terrorism. However, in this case, reversing up the slip road of the M6 motorway really needed its own category.
Harry and I had got away fairly well given the horrifically early hour of our flight from Manchester Airport and it was only as we entered the slip road for the M6 we found that northbound traffic was diverted to southbound traffic for roadworks of which travellers at pre 4am status were not informed.
I slammed on the brakes of our 15 year old Honda Jazz and performing hasty mental calculations, I reckoned we’d be buggered if we went south then north again, so into reverse and up we came and on a slightly different way, with only a little bit of black lines and a few cones knocked out of the way. First disaster averted.
Up the D road and onto the M6 just a few minutes behind schedule. No matter.
Manchester airport was already humming with holiday flights mainly to Spain and similar warm climes. Funny to think we were heading in another very different direction. We self-checked in and were soon in the departure lounge ensuring we had enough grub to last the flight and a little beyond.
The flight was a little over 2 hours with us getting a great glimpse of the northern part of Scotland. We had chosen seats right at the back of the plane hoping for a good view but instead, only Harry with the window seat had a good view. Next to me was a very serious looking bloke dresses in designer outdoor gear who spent most of the flight asleep, or trying to be. I had to ask him to move once so I could go to the bog and he seemed most annoyed. I thought polite conversation was off the menu. At one point, I stood up in my seat to have a stretch and a yawn came with it with one of those involuntary yawn gob trickles which happened to go all over his Bear Grylls trousers. I sat down quick and leafed through the in-flight magazine but he didn’t wake up.
We saw little of Iceland as we came into land but the odd glimpse of a lava field or little village helped to whet the appetite.
The plane touched down with a 10 out of 10 and we collected our bags, arriving at the arrivals to find no one there to meet us. After an hour or so, we had contacted the hire company and they came to collect up.
We were picked up by a young chap, I’d describe him as very easy going. He drove us out of the airport and told us all about great thing, idiosyncrasies and myths about Iceland. He warned us about Asians standing in the road taking pictures and other such hazards. We loved his company.
The rental company was situated in the long defunct US airbase at Keflavik. Things were pretty basic, but functional. After only 5 minutes Harry had found the writes offs behind the office. A heady concoction of smashed up or cannibalised 4x4s all RIP, rust in peace-ing.
We were eventually shown our ride. It was a 2008 Jeep Grand Cherokee, defiantly tatty around the edges, but with some stonking off road tyres, loads of round clearance and plenty of space inside. It looked like the right tool for the job.
We loaded up and off we set, as ever, at every junction, right, right, right. It was the first time I had driven an auto in many a year, but we were soon into the groove. A tyre pressure warning buzzer went off every 20 second or so warn about the tyres which all seemed fine so we ignored it for the whole week. It was a bit annoying though!
We were soon into the lava fields of the Keflavik peninsula. A desolate landscape with little vegetation. It was raining lightly, giving the whole place a very desolate feel. Soon we came across the bridge between continents, a 30 foot bridge over a big crack in the ground filled with volcanic ash. It was actually where the north American and Eurasian tectonic plates had their boundary. Quite a head swarm! Eventually Iceland will split in half along this line.
America, left, Europe , right. You don’t often hear that said these days! Here is new, very new!
On from there, we traversed the south of the peninsula to eventually arrive a Selfoss, a large, for Iceland, town where we headed for the Bonus store, some think like a UK Lidl, and stocked up on bread, meat and of course, Skyorr yogurt.
Onto Route 1, the nation’s ring road, we found our self in heavy traffic, 8 to 9 vehicles would meet us every minute. It was total gridlock! We soon turned off this road and onto a little track which headed towards Hekla, an infamous volcano, often thought to be the gateway to Hell. She was quite today, but was expected to erupt in the near future.
The 4x4 coped well with the tracks. In Selfoss we had filled it up. When I opened the fuel filler cap, I was surprised to see an unleaded sticker. I had to check, so popping the lid, I was disheartened to see a Detroit 3.7 litre V6 petrol engine, rather than a 2.5 diesel as found in the European vehicles. This US vehicle would drink fuel quicker than they could pump it out of the ground and have a very limited tank range. However, it was doing well so far, so we didn’t complain.
Around Hekla we went, she kept her head in the clouds and ignored our passing. We were grateful.
Gas Guzzla with massive razzed off volcano, Hekla, in background
Back on tarmac, we carried on up route 26 till we came to route 208 to Landmannlaugar which transited a moonscape with added lakes till it turned into a fairly rough gravel road. We had to reduce speed to get over the really gnarly sections as we headed deeper into the mountains.
Fat man with car
At one point we saw an outcrop of rock that looked like a battle elf from Lord of the Rings and made a note to stop on the way back to photograph it. Time was really getting on and it was close to 8pm by the time we reached Landmannlaugar. However, we were stopped in out tracks by two deep fords of unknown depth and considerable water flow. Dammit.
Watching the water didn’t really help but after watching a couple of similar sized vehicles cross the ford, we decided it was time to give it a go. The immensely tall gravel tyres on the jeep were a godsend as we plunged into the river made it to sandbank halfway through and then dipped into a deeper faster flowing section after that. Emerging on the other side, still running and all dry felt like a rite of passage. The next crossing was deeper but slower running and was passed in similar fashion.
Sub-zero cooking. No time for budgie-smugglers
Strong winds, driving rain and cold temperatures met us at the campsite which clung to the shattered landscape. Water was everywhere, but before we could think of camping we needed to eat. Parking the jeep into the wind and using one of the tarpaulins I had brought we made an effective cooking area behind the vehicle although rain and wind still swirled around us. We cooked a single pot nosh up as quick as possible and then tuned to putting up the tent. We found the driest bit of land available and threw up the tent. I could see Harry getting colder and colder, but as soon as the tent was up he divided inside and blew up the airbeds out of the wind and rain. He soon picked up.
The rest of our evening was spent in the tent making endless cups of tea and staring out into the landscape of lava flows, ash filled plains and the little plume of smoke where the odd bikini clad Icelandic hard woman would rush to and sit in 40 degree water till the time came where they had to leave for much more unpleasant climes. We had come with our swimming trunks thinking this might be fun, but now it seemed totally insane!
Day 2
Sleep had not come easily as the rain was incessant, and I was worried the water levels will have risen to a point where we could float away. Tent pegs in volcanic ash are more like guidelines rather than a code.
However at one point it did stop raining to tempt us to get out of the tent and then it stated again. We breakfasted quickly and put the wet tent and tarps away carefully keeping dry away from wet in the back of the Jeep. A chap approached up to ask if we could give him a lift, but, after consulting the map, it appeared that he was headed the wrong way from us.
In the lava field
Looking back to the campsite from the lava field
After we had packed we decided that we needed to see some of Landmannlaugar, so we walked up one of the lava flows to get a view of the area. The feeling of being in a very new environment was very present. There was little soil, water had tried to make its mark but the no nonsense power of lava and ash screamed their dominance on the landscape. It was a fantastic sight.
Back to the Jeep and time to make the crossing out of here. Being early morning, melt from the snow on the mountain tops would reduce the amount of water running into the river, but, the heavy rainfall will have raised it. Much deeper than yesterday, and I’d be worried the Jeep would turn into the world’s worst and shortest lived raft.
Fortunately the water was at about the same level and I wazanged my way through the water with Harry videoing me from the bank. Skills, (new found - luck).
We had to follow the same route back to the 26 so we set off happy with what we had achieved. Around the corner hiking the road was the chap who had spoken to me before with a group of 3 others. He turned and put his thumb out. I stopped to tell him that we had spoken before, but he and his girlfriend were eager to get back to Reykjavik and wanted to get back to route 26 to get a bus. We offered them a lift, introduced ourselves and found out they were Vladis and Ilza from Latvia.
We had a good chat and plenty of laughs on the journey back to the main road and shared lots of travel stories and experiences. Harry seemed to really like meeting them, and as ever, we all agreed that we are all the same and want the same things, despite the terrible stories we hear.
We got to Route 26 and as we were going north and them south we exchanged e-mails and prepared to get going. In front of us was the Sprengisandur route, 240km of dirt road, with no bridges, and the jeep had drunk not far off half it’s tank. I wasn’t sure we would make it and running out might be a bit of a scary event.
So we drove around the corner and, feeling generous, picked up two Latvian hitchhikers, taking them 15 km down the road to a hotel, café, and petrol station where getting a lift might be a lot easier.
With a full tank of fuel, we were ready for anything.
Route F26 started with some wide gravel roads which were impossibly smooth, allowing us to travel at near road speeds. Conditions slows deteriorated till large pot holes or massive rocks in the road dropped the speed to no more than 50 kph, sometimes much slower.
On the Sprengisandur Route next to the huge lake, Porisvatn.
We weren’t in a race to get anywhere so we stopped often to take in the views and pictures. The scenes of desolation were immense. Apart from the road, there were no signs of human life. We could see 20 to 30 miles in one direction over an ash filled valley to the snow-capped mountains beyond. It was an amazing sight.
A check of the phone would always reveal a 4g mobile signal, however remote the look of our surroundings which kind of dispelled the remote feel, but secretly was quite nice to know. We passed very few vehicles and knowing we could summon instant help via snapchat was most reassuring, if slightly delirious of the whole big adventure ‘thing’.
It had passed lunch time so we parked the car into the wind and boiled up some water for tea in the shelter of the boot. Icelandic wind tends to strip warmth away from anyone but the well prepared. A lunch of bread, cheese and a cup a soup gave us a lift as did the views around us to volcanos and glaciers. We had stopped for half an hour and nothing had passed us. The remoteness was intoxicating.
Nowt going on but the weather…
Setting off again, it wasn’t long before a dust cloud in the rear view mirror indicted either Road Runner, or a vehicle fast gaining on us. Soon a brand new Range Rover Evoke was coming up behind and as the route was now single track I pulled over to let them past. The Chinese chap and his female companion were gracious enough to stop to make sure we were OK but I waved him on and he gave me the thumbs up. I’m not sure his rental company would have done the same, as he sped off! Most rental companies do not allow their vehicles to be taken on the F roads unless they are proper 4x4s. I wasn’t quite sure were a Range Rover Evoke stood!
At the next small stream a bit of vehicular undercarriage plastic was floating about in the water. Harry and I disagree on where this bit of flotsam came from, but I’m convinced it came from a Range Rover.
A little later, we came around the corner to find an Evoke reversing up a bank. Both feet on the brake pedal was the order of the day. Our Asian friends had come across a rather gnarly looking river crossing which looked quite deep and fast flowing. We had a little discussion, and I offered to go first, as our vehicle had much more ground clearance. We slowly entered the river. The depth was manageable until we got about three quarters of the way across, when the nose dipped and suddenly sprang up on one side as we hit an underwater boulder. We bounced back down and grumbled up the other side. In my mind, that was an Evoke wreaker, so I parked up and got out to express my doubt to my companion. Too late, he was going for it, boom bang crash, he followed my exact line, but to be fair, emerged on the other side. I’m not sure what the underneath of his car was like though.
After a discussion on how deep he thought he might get, he raced off and all we ever saw of him was an increasing dust cloud in the distance. A few harder river crossings present themselves later but he was nowhere to be seem. We did see a bit of red plastic floating about in a puddle and I always like to think it was a bit of the Evoke.
We increasingly saw more and more hikers trudging down the road, realising a long distance footpath had joined the road. I do like a good walk, but the thought of hiking this wilderness did not fill me with thoughts of 240 km of joy. We came around a corner to find two lads holding a sign, not asking for a lift but simply saying “chocolate”.
We stopped to find out what was going on and the two Americans from Utah, told us they were walking the Sprengisandur route and had all they needed, apart from enough chocolate. They were ‘chocolate deprived’. Given the cheesiest grin they had offered, the pure audacity of their request and also the fact that, as two type 1 diabetics, we were packing serious chocolate, we left them with a mars bar, twix and wispa each. They were dead grateful wondering what joys an unknown Wispa would bring them. I think they would be in for a pleasant surprise!
We spent the next half hour asking each other if that had really happened.
Not long after we were at Pvermodur, the about half way point. To the right of us was the foothills of Bardarbunga, the almost definite next badboy volcano who will go off and really annoy all aeroplane travelling passengers around the world. It felt slightly uneasy driving next to this time-bomb about to go off, but this happens in all parts of life. The car we drive, the flight we take, the chap next to us in the queue. Life is full of burgeoning magma chambers and there’s no point in worrying about it. Sometimes we are just going to be unlucky. The majority of the time, not.
On with journey and by this time we had become quite proficient at the river crossings but you never knew what lay under the water and every now and again the jeep would either sink or bang up on rocks to make your heart race.
The landscape was very close to a moonscape. Very little vegetation, the odd clump of grass or flowers and no wildlife to speak of apart from, perhaps, the odd fly or very occasional bird. The lack of people also added to the desolation. What was queer was that beyond the moonscape were huge snow-capped volcanoes to ensure you knew you were still on planet earth. There was that, and the breathable air.
On the moon, with clouds, air and the bad boy Bardarbunga behind
After what appeared to be hours and hours, we began to notice a change in the landscape as we came down from the plateau. More grass, flowers and wildlife together with sheep, bigger birds and fences. The landscape was still barren but it was becoming much more familiar. It was amazing to think how far we had travelled up this Sprengisandur route. 240km, averaging no more than 35 to 40kph. That is something like London to Preston.
The end of the route brought a real jewel in the crown, Alderyfoss. This was a moderate sized waterfall, but was flanked by two lines of hexagonal basalt pillars in the guise of the Giants Causeway. After the earlier moonscape, this was a sight for sore eyes. It was the best waterfall I had ever seen and there was nobody else there!
One disadvantage of returning to lower levels was the terrible amount of flies and midges. We were soon back in the Jeep and heading off to find out campsite which later appeared to be up a road no longer open.
We decided to push on to Husavik which was quite a strain but worth it when we got there. The campsite was clean, well-kept and equipped and we could set up for two nights here which was worth the extra effort.
Campsite at Husavik with purple lupin like flowers covering the mountain behind. Banksy on Speed!
Day 3
I was awoken by a dull ache from my back and a sense of cold indicating only one thing, my cheap airbed had gone down. I had bought a particularly good lightweight one but Harry had soon latched onto that one, bleeding youth of today. I would get up and make tea.
As per usual it had rained in the night and it was neither warm nor cold. Not bad really seeing as we were no more than 30 miles from the Arctic Circle.
Because we had battled on to Husavik, we could leave the tents here and take a day trip instead. We had shelved plans to see Askya, a massive volcanic bowl that had gone pop 150 years ago sending bits of rock as far a mainland Europe. The road to it had been closed, from the Sprengisandur route and getting to it from the other side would be an arduous trip. We decided on taking a short-ish trip to take in some waterfalls.
First of all we wanted to book our whale watching trip for tomorrow. Parking in the town, we walked past a school/youth centre and saw an young lad, with no helmet or any road sense rocking a moped up to speed over the cross roads and back again with no consideration about the many huge vehicles being driven by the majority of Icelanders. It was a scene one might expect in a deprived inner city but not this tiny rural town!
We booked out trip for the next morning and feeling much lighter we left the booking office. Weather and visibility was expected to be good so we were hopeful of seeing some whales.
Out of the town, we started our trip down what we thought would be a gravel road. Instead it was coved in brand new black top. Everywhere we went we say signs of industry and presumed some energy project was underway. After many kilometres we came to the reason for the road, a brand new powerplant harnessing the geothermal energy. All around were steaming vents, making the whole thing look very science fiction. After exploring one of the vents, I found it was a steel pipe venting the steam which seemed a tad fraudulent!
Straight after the powerplant the new road gave way to the old track and on this we rattled along passing the occasional truck full of stony faced workmen on their way to the power plant.
Joining the road again soon found us arriving at Myvatn, an area with a big lake and lots of geologically freaky things. We had to pick and choose, so we opted for Dimmuborgir, an area of lava pillars formed when lava flowed over standing water and the evaporating water formed the pillars. It also happened to be a favourite with tour busses being on Route 1, the Icelandic ring road
Cave sheep…
We found the difficult route though the tourist attraction, which meant we lost the majority of visitors, and walked among the pillars and caves. Looking into one cave we found a family of sheep. Not what one would have expected! In another, we managed to crawl quite deep to the back of the cave. Coming out, I managed to catch my back on the roof of the cave and, given the volcanic nature of the rock, it felt like I had sandpapered by backbone!
We had soon had enough of the tourist scene and exited without paying 200 Icelandic Krona for taking a slash. For that sort of money, I’d like some guarantees!
Back on the road, we followed lots of hesitant, uncertain or just plain slow tourist traffic for 10 to 15 km, but they were soon attracted off the highway by blue pools or bits of smoke with hundreds of busses around them. We drove on to the next attraction, knowing it would be pandemonium. This was the largest waterfall in Europe, Dettifoss.
Dettifoss - Quite a lot of water
The car park was rammed, the paths were full of people, many speaking total bollocks and some just plain rude. The waterfall was great but the experience of getting to it kind of dulled the true impression of it.
We walked on to Selfoss, the smaller cousin which was most attractive too.
Feeling relived, to get away from the throng, we got back into the jeep and spun out of the car park.
On the way in we had seen a little track branching off. We decided to take a look down it and see if we could get a less crowded view of Dettifoss.
We got out at a 4 car park and walked down a path to be soon delighted by a view just around the corner of the waterfall. A much smaller waterfall, Hafragilsfoss did its thing below us, and sent it’s water through a fantastic gorge, something like a mini grand canyon further down. We were the only ones there. That’s more like it!
Selfoss, less people
Onto the road again, we took a right out of the entrance to the waterfalls onto an F road where we hoped to find very few vehicles. Unfortunately there appeared to be lots of people in unsuitable rental cars blindly following sat navs and making the journey a tad tedious.
Eventually we made it to the main road and followed the coast road back to Husavik.
We parked in town and emerged from the Jeep expecting to be mown down by the scooter but it had appeared to have gone away.
Tonight it was cooks night off, so we decided to try out Icelandic fish and chips. Even though it was sunny, the temperature was quite low so, once purchased, we went upstairs to a lounge to eat our fish and chips. Although perfectly edible and quite nice, I would describe Icelandic fish and chips as being normal fish and chips that some health Nazi had got their hand on. Firstly the chips were those thin things like fried shoelaces that you get from McDonalds. The fish was very tasty but had about 1/10th the batter on it you would expect from a normal chippy.
It was a total car crash. However, perhaps lots of tourists who weren’t from the UK might have liked it.
Knowing that the days were advancing and we had not bought any tourist tat for those back home, we went into the only tourist tat shop in the village which was obviously a bad idea. An Icelandic jumper was a mere £200 and even a mug £25. Even a fridge magnet was £4.50. We bought a bit of tat and were soon back to the campsite where I had to come to terms with the fun of sleeping on the emergency, millimetres deep, sleeping mat.
Day 4
Today was the day we had been waiting for, our whale watching trip. It also meant we didn’t’ have to be up at the crack of dawn, so a welcome lie in was had by all.
We packed up the tents and headed down to the town to park up, this time without the menace of mopeds, but we kept an eye out for the two wheeled phantom just in case he was waiting for us around a corner.
A large crowd of people were walking towards our large ship, the Gardor, an old wooden fishing vessel converted to a whale watching boat. There was a large mix of people clambering on board, Europeans, Asians and Americans, perhaps 100 in total.
As advised we had dressed up for the trip, but with sweat pouring off us we weren’t sure if we should put on the large suites offered to us. However, we thought it best and pulled them on, something we would be grateful for over the next few hours.
Nattfari, sister ship to Gardor
Space at the front of the boat had soon been taken up so we headed to the back where very few people were. We reasoned that it might not be the best place to see the whales but at least we wouldn’t have people pushing and shoving us, something that might really get on our nerves and encourage me to arm the whaling harpoon.
The boat slid out of the harbour and chugged out to the middle of the fjord, not out into the open sea and I would have expected. The marine biologist giving the talk, helpfully for us in English, explained that the whales loved the fjords because their prey fed off creatures that relied upon the nutrient rich outflow from the rivers which served the fjord.
It wasn’t long before the ship changed direction suddenly and raced off to an area where a few other boats were. With a spurt of water from its blow hole, the back of a Humpback whale was seen. After a few more spurts, its back arched and down it went again raising it’s fluke as it went.
Our position at the back of the boat wasn’t a bad choice at all as we could switch from side to side as more Humpbacks were seen. We would never know where they would come up and sometimes they were very close. It was a beautiful sight to see and we both felt very privileged to see these creatures.
Unfortunately for us, when one breached and rolled onto its back right next to the boat, we were on the wrong side, but by the way the marine biologist was screeching about it, it must have been special!
As we headed back towards the harbour, we were given a cinnamon roll and hot chocolate, something that went down very well
In total we must have seen 10 to 14 Humpbacks, at one time we were watching 4 together. It was and amazing experience, one which I will never forget.
Probably the best picture, but it wasn’t really about taking pictures!
Once out of our suites which had become essential after an hour on the water, we walked back to the jeep and made our way on tarmac roads to Akureyri, Iceland’s second city.
A quirk of the town was that every red stop signal on the traffic lights was a love heart rather than a plain red light. We needed to find some cash but wherever we went we could not find an ATM. Stopping in a large shopping mall, I left Harry and had a walk around confident that I would find a cash machine. Oh no, I found and Toys r Us, but no cash machine. I walked down the main street outside the mall with a similar result.
Love you too! Akureyri traffic lights
We began driving out of the town and stopped to ask at petrol station, where we were given directions to a residential part for town where an convenience store had a cash machine. Withdrawing another small fortune in Icelandic Krona, we set off leaving the busy Icelandic ring road, route 1 behind and heading on the smaller coast road up to Olafsfjardar where we were aiming to stay. Harrys eyes were trained on the fjord beside us, keen to get a glimpse of whales, but we didn’t appear lucky.
Postcard-tastic. Little house on the Fford
As we got further north, the road narrowed and became more challenging with larger drops into the sea below. I knew that some recent tunnels had opened up the town of Olafsfjardar from this direction but I was not quite ready for them.
Entering the first tunnel, I was somewhat freaked out by the lack of additional carriageway for vehicles coming the other way. It took me quite some time to work out that this was a single carriageway tunnel, with passing places. I still couldn’t believe it as this tunnel was 5km long. Right of way was given to vehicles coming the other way, but distances were really hard to judge, and a number of times, I found people waiting impatiently for me to reach the passing place. It was a major bit of new road-going experience for me.
A 200m section of non tunnel then followed, followed by a 7km long tunnel with a usual two lane configurations. I was quite relived to get out of the other end.
Approaching the town of Olafsfjardar we saw signs out, advertising a West African festival which appeared wholly out of sorts in the far north of Iceland. However, why not! The problem for us was this had fully filled out the town’s camp site, and to be fair, the entire town. We chose to carry on the coast road and head for a campsite marked on the map.
We negotiated a few other tunnels, a few single carriageway, until we came to the headland. Stopping at a little pull in, we realised that this was as far north as we could go and we were, in effect, turning for home. The Arctic Circle was less than 20 miles away, and here we sat in the sunshine all by ourselves surrounded by large cliffs and calling sea birds. A small sailing boat could be seen off shore but apart from that we were along. I’m not sure if I will ever get this far north again.
As far north as we got
The next 20 to 30 km of roads sat high on the sea cliffs with precarious drops to the rocks below and little in the way of safety barriers. It certainly concentrated the mind on the job in hand.
We arrived at the campsite located in the most beautiful seaside position. There was a guest house and restaurant attached to it, but we appeared to be the only guests. We were directed to a place to camp behind a large mound of earth which acted as a useful windbreak. This was much in need as the wind had picked up once again.
‘Are you looking at me boy?’
Harry walked up on top of the windbreak and was soon attacked by a large mob of squawking Arctic Terns. Anyone who showed their face around the windbreak, either going for water, the toilet or to the bin would be surrounded by swooping, squawking terns. On one trip back from the toilet, I was trying to keep my cool and was pecked on the head. I think the bird may have removed one or two of my precious and dwindling hairs too.
The terns, who nest on the ground, had a major nest protection racket thing going on the other side of the windbreak. It was like the winged Sopranos and without ‘38s and wise cracks these guys had big beaks and a chilling squark. I think the windbreak wasn’t just there to prevent wind making campers evenings a bit of a battle!
We cooked up dinner, but the sun had now gone in and the wind dropped the temperature to quite low. Racing up to the toilet, I found the terns could be kept away by swinging a full plastic bag around one’s head, It didn’t look good but was certainly effective!
Day 5
Perhaps for the first time in our journey, it had not rained in the night, hence, tents went away nice and easy. Breakfast was made and full bladders squealed as we decided on how to tackle getting to the toilet without attracting a major avian/human confrontation.
The best option was to run like a hunted fox whilst waving your hands around the head. The terns, as soon as they saw you would scramble a few front line fighter interceptors. If you took your time, heavier units would move in to create a constant swooping around your head.
Despite the wonderful views from the campsite we were happy to leave. I was missing my hairs.
We were heading towards the ring road, route 1 but found ourselves within rural Iceland where occasional farmsteads tended fields on the edge of agricultural productivity. The one and only crop was grass. It appears that grass is an important crop, probably grown to keep animals alive during the long winter. So far, apart from horses or sheep, we had seen no other livestock. Whereas in the UK, grass crops would be cut at about 2 feet tall, the crops here were cut at half that. Despite lots of light, it was clear that low temperatures and short growing seasons made arable farming very difficult.
Grass appeared so valuable that cuttings from a number of campsites were collected up and used for something. It was another reminder of how close we were to the edge of civilisation.
We eventually joined Route 1 which was liberally scattered with rental campers and rental cars. Rental cars were easy to spot as they were all small Kias or Hyundais. Many people use Route 1 as a blueprint for touring the country but, for all the time we were on it, it seemed to avoid anywhere of any interest.
We got to Vidimyn and prepared to take a very different route, heading off on gravel mountain roads to meet Route F35, the other main route that cut through the middle of the country. Filling up with fuel at the petrol station, we saw another large part of my money reserves dwindle away. No matter.
We turned off Route 1 onto much more relaxed roads and were encouraged to find that there were some signpost signalling we were on the right path. We had a national map of Iceland, but many of the tracks we had planned to go down were little more than heavy duty off road affairs which probably would have smashed our jeep to bits. Therefore a signpost, gave us some confidence that the route was good.
We went through a gate and began steadily climbing into the Highlands. It was clear that the area was for sheep grazing, although very little grass was found. Every now and again a sheep coral was found. How the farmers managed to round the sheep up was beyond me. No quad bike could traverse the land, and I had not seen any working dogs about. Saying that, I hadn’t seen any shepherds.
Up and up we climbed until, after passing through a gate, we were confronted with a view looking over 30 to 40 miles of uninhabited lava fields and rocks. Every now and again we would see evidence of the road as it lead into the distance. It all looked good so we continued on. We would regularly see a mother sheep with her two lambs, never far from her size. It appears sheep rearing is very successful and twins appear to virtually always survive. I suppose there are no natural predators as the Artic Fox is Iceland largest predator and is pretty small when compared to a European fox.
Sheep chillin. How that works I can’t comprehend
The track was in good condition and we made good progress through the land. Apart from the odd sheep coral and the track we saw no sign of human life for a couple of hours. After a while I began to start looking at the vehicles temperature and grow concerned that a break down might be getting to a serious stage. At times there wasn’t even a mobile phone signal which was very rare for the entirety of our trip.
We finally got to a cross roads with four signposts. Gut instinct was telling me to go left, but the signpost was indicating to go straight on. We decided to follow the instinct expecting the signpost to take the quickest route. Our route looked a little more adventurous, and it certainly turned out that way. However, there was a name on the signpost, so the road lead to somewhere, and that was good enough for us.
After about 10km we stopped for lunch. A cup a soup, bread and cheese all went down well with a cup of tea. The land was equally desolate, but we had come down a little from the highlands so there was more grass, birds and sheep. We sheltered from the wind behind a pile of rocks. Almost always in Iceland, whatever the weather, the wind would rob you of any warmth. Shelter from it and things weren’t too bad, well, not in the height of summer!
Back on the track again and conditions on it began to deteriorate. It became bumpier, rockier and more winding. We slowed to almost walking pace for a number of section. Still, we carried on.
Signposts refer to the mountains. They have very little else to talk about!
For the first time in about four hours we caught sight of another vehicle driving towards us at a terrific pace. The view was something similar to the Thrust SCC land speed record. The pickup tore past us and we were encouraged that if the pickup had made it through, then so could we.
Not long after we saw that a river crossing would need to be made and upon arriving at the river, things didn’t look good. There did not appear to be tried and tested path through the river, just the odd tyre track and even worse, no sort of indication on where to get out on the other side. For the first time , it was time to get out and try and spot the best place. Lobbing big rock into the water was one way to find the shallower water and we found a way to get onto an stable water gravel bank which would carry us a third of the way over the 30 metre wide river.
We got to the gravel bank with no big problems and got out again to see if we could use lobbing big rock echo location, to work out our next path. The river was running too fast here to get a good idea so it was time to plough on. We crossed diagonally with the flow of water to maximise our fording potential the water was up to the door sills in the middle of the river for a little while but we didn’t get any water in the vehicle. We rose out of the river with a great sigh of relief and crossed the rest of the dried up river bed, sometime having to get out to plot a route around boulders and big holes.
Just the good old boys… never meaning no harm…Beats all you’ve ever saw, been in trouble with the law since the day they were born…
The sat nav now showed us that we were just 5 km from the main F35 road and zooming out showed that there were no more river crossings. However we soon found that the track was exceptionally gnarled up with lots of trip ending boulders waiting to catch us out. The track also took us very close to the river where just a slight deviation would see us sitting upside down in the river. We took our time.
The sight of the F35 was welcome as we left the track, helpfully marked with a sign that had been drive-by shot gunned. I’m not sure what use a shotgun is in these parts. Unless people were into hunting fellow humans, there was a distinct lack of wildlife to blow away.
The F35, although not surfaced was a welcome relief and we were able to start moving quickly. The speed limit on gravel roads was 80kph, but this, in our wallowy brick, seemed a little over ambitious. 60kph was about the limit for a comfortable ride, and there was always the odd chunk of rock ready to tear a hole in a fuel tank of the unwary. We soon reached a side road to Hveravelir but before we visited this busy tourist attraction, a small gravel road into the mountains beyond had caught my eye on the map so we returned to the gravel road grind with plenty more trip ending boulders and some really gnarly sections to boot.
For about 8km we slowly plodded up into the mountains, into a quieter part of this quiet land. The sun was bright and the place felt like the alps, the year after the ice age had finished. The place was pure and pristine with no sings, apart from the track to the existence of human beings.
The track climbed a final hill and we came to its end. An unusually grassed valley stretched out before us, in the middle of it, perhaps a mile away, the only sign of human existence, was a small hut for walkers with a tent pitched outside. I could see the campers ambling about and had a great deal of campsite envy.
Take a whole valley for your campsite. I had a bit of campsite envy there!
The trip back down was eventful. A heavy automatic vehicle just wants to run away down these steep slopes and even forcing the gearbox to stay in 1st didn’t really do too much. The brakes were steaming by the time we got down. We passed a few hikers making their way up to the campsite. I was still in Campsite Envy mode.
We parked up at Hveravelir and before anything we went into the café for a coffee. A coffee was 500K, about £3.50. I was going to moan at this but seeing as we were 100km from the nearest town, in an environment where so few people came, it actually struck me as good value. Cheaper than a UK motorway service station’s fancy coffee brand in a paper cup.
Harry decided that the apple pie on the menu looked too good to miss, so we ordered and sat down, making liberal use of the wifi to see how popular we were on Facebook. Harry, a true son of the digital age showed me his snapchat location app. It was funny to see all of his fiends distributed around Europe, most in the UK, some on holiday in southern Europe and just him, floating around the arctic circle at the top of the map!
We headed up towards the attraction of the site, a number of bubbling, steaming and thrunging water features around the site. We walked past a pool with lots of people in it enjoying a relax in the waters. Next door to a couple a lovely collie dog sat. it was a picture of Icelandic social harmony.
Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!
We followed the walkways amongst the hot springs, some bubbled, some emitted smells, some steamed like kettles others just vaped. Perhaps the best one screamed with hot air emitting from a stack made up of condensed new rock.
We soon lost the crowds back on the F35 as we headed to the highland centre at Asgardsfjall. The road was fairly well travelled but the wilderness experience was soon returning. It had been a long time since we had seen a sheep, we were so far into the interior that sheep farming for the short summer here was unviable.
Leaving the main route we soon found the mountain centre. There was a café, visitors centre, accommodations and lots of self-catering cottages as well as the campsite. The campsite was very busy but we soon found a spot. The centre appeared to be a place where people set off for hiking trips into the mountains which weren’t too far away.
Bit of cramping going on here
We set up camp to ensure we had a spot then took a little wander up the main path towards the snow covered peaks. Although the sun was out the slight breeze robbed every little bit of warmth it offered. Out of the valley, on top of the peaks, the cold was magnified many times. However the views were pristine. Small glaciers creeped out of couliers and snow-capped peaks stood proud over the desolate landscape below.
Big mountains
We returned back to camp ready for another single pot meal. When I have travelled by myself usually on a motorcycle, I had become accustom to the single pot meal. Everything coked in one pot, sometimes things put to one side and added later, but usually involving pasta or rice in sauce with some cut up meat. It wasn’t Jamie Oliver, but it was tasty and filled a hole without being excessively heavy or bulky. Fortunately, Harry was very much into the whole concept. Quick to make, easy to wash up and creating a focus for the end of the day.
We sat back in out chairs amongst, Belgians, Germans, Americans and Icelandic’s and forked in our food at a rapid rate. Hot food was something to not dally over. Things soon went cold and there were no microwave facilities here. Saying that some of the campervans here were likely to have every mod con. Apart from telly. But, for once, we were in a place where no mobile phone signal could be gained!
Day 6
The day started bright and beautiful, as it had ended the night before. Although we had had terrible weather the first day we had arrived in Iceland, we had been blessed with great conditions, especially when we needed it most in the highlands where just about anything could happen, even in the middle of summer.
We packed away and were away fairly early and a couple of miles down the road we came to the track I had proposed we would take. Looking at the track, I was fairly convinced it was a step way too far. It lead, barely discernible, high into the mountains we had been viewing last night. I knew there were at least 5 river crossings and I was concerned that we might end up getting into deep trouble on a very infrequently travelled route without the ability to call for help.
We headed back to the F35, a positive motorway by comparison!
The route brought us slowly out of the highlands, at first sheep appeared more frequently, then large areas of grass, occasional houses and even some ponies. Pony riding seemed to be a popular pass time in this part of the world. The ponies were robust and stout steeds, sure to have a temper like the local geology!
In the distance we saw a large glacier pouring its way into a lake, yet another fantastic scene, something that we were now becoming so used to, perhaps we weren’t quite so impressed.
And then, tarmac. It came to me that we had left tarmac on the north east of the island and re-joined it in the south-west. That was quite some time to be without a smooth driving surface. The Jeep was really looking like it had crossed the highlands too. It was covered in mud dust and ash. We were quite proud of it really, it certainly told a story!
Today was going to be a bit of a shock to the system as we would be entering the “Golden Triangle”, a popular tourist route to see some of the most popular and easily accessible sights of Iceland. This meant that we would be experiencing lots of people, something not seen since we left Dettifoss.
As we drove we saw what looked like a large steaming vent in the distance, but we knew that this would be Gullfoss, another massive waterfall, vaping away into the air. It was reported to be very popular with tourists. For half a day we had followed the watercourses which fed this waterfall, so we were hoping to see where it all got funnelled into.
Parking on the almost full car park we wondered down the walkways raised above the ground to avoid foot traffic destroying the fragile soil and grass. It was accustom to being on a pavement in central London, lots of far too slow moving tourists with huge cameras, bags, tripods, cold boxes, all in one rain suits and large video cameras. Both Harry and I were beginning to get a bit irritated by the amount of people there, but to be honest, we were only making the situation worse.
Gullfoss – lots of people, lots of people, facemasks, is the world ending……………………….not at this moment.
Gullfoss was an impressive waterfall, although Dettifoss was bigger. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it better with less people, as Dettifoss. It was time to get out of here and off we went to the jeep passing a number of Asian people wearing doctors face masks. Might be slightly useful if Bardarbunga goes off for about 2 minutes before it clogs up and you die like the rest of us but, it hadn’t and this must be one of the most unpolluted countries on earth. What is going on there?
Harry had to tell me off for making comment, something I tend to do quite uncontrollably. I just can’t help myself saying things Like, “oh look, a hipster on a skateboard”, or “that bloke seems to own a Louie Spence edition Nissan Navara” and my favourite, “A leather clad’ bad ass’ biker who is obviously a bald, fat IT consultant, like they all are”. (I have been a biker for almost 25 years and have also ridden with Hells Angels in the USA. The one thing they hate is part-timing pretenders!)
Coming from the wilderness, I was keen to use a toilet, however at 200 Krona, about £1.65 to use the toilet, I didn’t think I was quite ready to get full value from such an expensive outlay.
The masses were soon to be encounters again as the next stop was Geysir, the place which gave its name to volcanic waterspouts, perhaps the most iconic being Old Faithful in Yellowstone Park, USA something I had seen go off almost 25 years ago.
The car park was getting rather Blackpool, so we parked at the far end where nobody was. This was so I could throw open the door and run into the bushes to do my 200 Krona’s worth. Big fart too, just to add value.
We walked up to the Geysir amongst the throng of camera toting, multimedia flaunting people. There were just too many people here and although the geysir was very impressive, the constant monologue of people stating obvious things around us somewhat detracted from the wonder.
Geysir seemed to go off every 3 to 6 minutes, teasing you with a bubbling and gulping of water before spurting a 50 foot high spout of water into the air for about a second and then going very quiet again.
After a few times we wanted to leave, back into the grubby Jeep and out through the car park onto an F road which would take us a long way from the crowds. Things got much more relaxed so very quickly. We were in a national park abundant in streams, vegetation and even lots of trees. Walking trails lead everywhere and we encountered no one. For the first time the canopy of trees enclosed the track. We then came into a forestry plantation of Sitka spruce. Again a first for Iceland.
We drove higher and higher out of the greenery and into a lava field where, as per usual, very little grew. The F road we were following was a service road for line of electricity pylons which somewhat spoil the view, but the feeling of pure isolation was good after the large number of other people experienced in the past few hours.
Iceland is certainly not a place to be if you are an urbanite. The few towns you come across are small, very utilitarian and don’t seem big on nightlife or a café culture. I think most people are working.
Doing Lunch
It was lunchtime and without the sight of any eating hostelries, or anything else, we pulled over, made a tea and a couple of pasta in a cup type things in the lea of a volcanic pop. My description of a volcanic pop would be to forget about volcanoes and image that a troll had burst out of the flat ground. There is your volcanic pop, and perhaps ridiculous to us Europeans, the existence of trolls in this landscape isn’t really hard to imagine.
Volcanic Pop
As another note, there are people who believe in Homeopathy, so I think trolls, fairies and the Huldenfolk, the hidden people, is a legitimate belief system. Live and let live.
We rattled down the road at a steady pace. The F roads seemed to ensure you kept at a steady pace of around 50kph when good but anything down to 10kph when poor. It was a good speed, it allowed you to look around.
At this point I was missing my bike Betty, because roads like this suited a fat single cylindered bike where a best line could be chosen constantly amongst the lava field tracks. Winds, smells and Huldenfolk would have been very apparent on a bike. However, we had armchair comfort, sweaty arsed leather seats and the radio if we dared to open the last degree of luxury. There was also a beep every 20 seconds, but we had become immune!
To make things more exciting for the past couple of days the rear shock absorbers seemed to be really neglecting to do their duty. Sharp turns on bumpy sections were throwing the Jeep into quite exciting sideways slides, which in challenging situations were, quite shite inducing. It was all a bit of a laugh really!
We collected a bit of volcanic ash as a quality souvenir and were back on our way. The road following the electricity lines met up with another F road, this one much quicker and well serviced with vehicles and tourist busses, some moving uncomfortably fast on the gravel roads. The drivers all seemed like steely faced F road experts, well able to drift a 15 tonne bus around a gravel corner, probably to the delight of all the passengers inside.
The reason for the tourist traffic soon became apparent. To the right of us a glacier reached down from the highlands into the lava field on which we were travelling. It was a short detour to take the road up to the glacier. Here large tracked machines would take people up on the glacier, also some snow mobiles were on hand to hire. We had seen a number of super jeeps and super vans, long wheel base vans with huge monster truck tyres disappear up the glacier.
It was all a bit of an anti-climax really because the glacier was just a snow field with the ice below. In my mind a glacier wasn’t really a glacier unless it was covered in man eating ice sculptured crevasses. Many years ago whilst on a climbing trip in Europe, I had abseiled into a crevasse and found the isolation and nerves it created to be quite overwhelming. It was like a powerful river thundering over rocks being stopped in time and climbing in between the rolls of frozen water, knowing at any time, the thing might collapse or close up. The occasional thump or crack from the ice would bring this thought quickly to the mind. This glacier was like a ski slope!
So we set off again and were soon back on tarmac after a few more death defying kick outs from the back of the jeep. We were descending towards the sea and very soon were amongst, wildlife, vegetation, occasional housing, farmland and then a paved road.
Our destination, Borganes soon came into sight, a large (by Icelandic standards) town about 60km north of Reykjavik. Our first stop had to be Bonus where we stocked up, for the last time on milk and food. We were trying to carefully wind down our food reserves so we did not waste anything.
On the edge of town we found the campsite which was rather sparse and being next to Route 1 was bound to fill up with touring tents, camper vans and caravans throughout the night. Perhaps it wasn’t the best choice, but we were quite tired and hunger so this would have to do.
We made food, took a short walk to look at the sea and had an early night. Late into the night, small children played in the midnight sun and many a vehicle turned up and set up camp. It wasn’t a restful night.
Day 7
We weren’t all that unhappy to leave the campsite, it had been a tad too noisy, my fault for choosing a location on one of the main tourist drags, Route 1.
Today was our last day, and we were going to dive into Reykjavik to get all cultured. Setting off on Route 1 we headed straight for the capital city. Harry informed me it was the furthest north capital city in the world. Half the population of Iceland lived in the capital too. After experiencing so much wilderness, I was expecting something to Mega City 1 from Judge Dredd.
Tired of the smaller roads we followed Route 1 through a toll tunnel which would drop us much closer to the City. Coming into the suburbs we noted lots of signs with a head and water below. Hot pools for relaxing. In my mind, certainly beating the gym. However given the size of my gut, I was reminded that it was getting time that I did something about that slight abomination.
Just about everyone in Reykjavik lived in a large single storey house with plenty of garden. Very nice. This spread the city far and wide with occasional industrial or retail areas. It looked not too unlike many a European city. I wondered what this place might be like in the depths of winter. The coastal areas perhaps not too cold because of the ocean and gulf stream, but the incessant depression of 2 hours of sunlight, I’m sure, would have a very dangerous effect on the likes of me over time. Thetta Redast!
We followed the sat nav to a recommended underground car park, just 500m from the city centre and found that car parking cost less than having a piss at Gulfoss. Funny the value of things!
Hallgrimskirkja Church with Leifur Eiriksson, the first European to discover America... whos this Columbus fellow?
We wandered into the town. Most of it was being pulled down and re-built. I thought that something was being lost. Some of the older buildings, tin shacks with grass on the roof and lovely little gardens were being replaced with characterless blocks of flats. Someday Reykjanes might regret this.
We arrived at the church with a statue of Leifur Eiriksson outside it. It was quite a sight for a modern church and, given the time of day, with the sun behind it, made an impressive photo. Photographers luck again!
We wandered into town and found the place fairly rammed with tourists, ourselves some of them. There was no great architectural beauty in the buildings, but after the wildernesses we had been through, it felt sociable to be amongst other people.
We rounded a corner and came across the Reykjavik trolls, a man and lady troll 10 foot high who are re-positioned in the town every few days. Kodak moment there.
I got trolled
Further into town, we were in need of food so, for once, we were going to eat out. The Laundromat, seemed like a good place to go. Apparently it used to be the Laundry, but was now a buzzing restaurant in an American diner style. Harry went for burger and chip and I went for fish soup.
It was all very tasty and filled a hole, but It’s not something you could do every day, it came, with a few drinks to about £47.
Our next destination was the Whale museum next to the harbour. Opinion on Whales seems quite split in Iceland, a country which still hunts certain species. The driver who picked us up from the airport encouraged us to eat whale meat, whilst others seemed much more wanting to keep the topic of conversation away from whale hunting. Whale watching was certainly a big tourist boom but, the Icelandic’s, behind a people who in the past would survive, whatever and however seemed proud of their past and I was under the impression they didn’t like being told what to do by Eurocrats and the UN. I could understand that, but, to me, it seemed a bit old fashioned.
So off to the museum, past places to park your bike shaped like a bike but made out of chains and wonderful bits of street art on dilapidated buildings. We walked past one bit of full sized street art on the side of a house which really encapsulated Iceland. A large mountainous fist rising out of the ground with an idyllic Icelandic house below. A bit more of the old thetta redasst!
Worth a full page that picture!
At the whale museum we picked up some headphones and downloaded an app to our phones which would take us around the museum. That was great. The narrator introduced us to narwhals, dolphins and whales. All hanging from the ceiling as life sized models made of rubber.
Harry had a huge laugh at me as I touched one of the teeth of a Sperm whale and finding made of rubber, had a bit of a jumpy moment. The dark atmosphere of the museum was making me apprehensive!
Around the corner we came across our old mate the Humpback whale and right in the middle was a Blue whale stretching from one side of the hall to the other.
Big rubber Blue Whale!
We really enjoyed the museum and went around for another look without the audio guide so we could look at some of the interactive displays and videos. This time around I knew what to expect so I didn’t have a jumping fit around the Sperm Whale.
It was time to buy some tourist tat and locate an Iceland football shirt for Harry. We had loved watching Iceland at the Euro 2016 football finals when 1/10 of the country came to watch their team. Their Viking chant was great to hear and the both of use were hardly ashamed to see England beaten by Iceland because the little people won against the overpaid, overappreciated and half-hearted England team.
Finding a shirt was hard work but within the shopping district we found and Iceland Shop and there was a shirt with an eyewatering price, but, we were only going to be here once, and the credit card would be with me forever. I did insist Harry try it on through to get the size right!
We found a nice shop with a little book of Iceland full of beautiful pictures and little write ups on the place. With a few fridge magnets, we were complete.
Back to the car park, we paid 150 Krona for underground parking right next to the city centre. That’s about £1.20. You wouldn’t get 2 hours parking up Hanley for that. I guess it’s all about how we value things!
It was late afternoon and we took busy roads out towards Keflavik where the airport was, built upon the former US naval airport which patrolled the northern Atlantic looking for Russian submarines in years gone by. We had spotted a camp site on the map at the very north-west of the Keflavanes peninsula, a little way off the tourist track which would hopefully make a suitable place for our last night, hopefully quiet and subdued.
The roads to it were busy and upon reaching a minor vehicle prang we saw our first Icelandic Policeman. We were ticking things off, even at this point!
We got to Keflavik on the only dual carriageway in the country. I’d polished off my nice whiskey last night, most put out by the generally reserved nature of the north Europeans. I much more preferred the attitude found in southern Europe where, you would tend to interact with your fellow campers a lot more. In these situations a bottle of Island Malt was a great way to get talking!
Anyway, I wanted to find the booze shop. Booze over 3% had to be sold in government run shops, called Vinbud. This all seemed a little strange, but seeing as beer was only legalised in 1989, perhaps not so. After an internet search, I found the Vinbud in central Keflavik, which looked from the outside to be something more like Maplin’s. I went inside armed with a Bonus bag.
The place was well organised and packed to the ceiling with wine, beer and spirits. However, there was nothing else, not a stick of chewing gum. It felt like I was in a government run sex shop where all the good were on offer, but no one wanted to acknowledge what they were buying. Had I the language skills, I’d have loved to say, “I’ll have a four pack of Viking Lager Duck!”
Sordid, purchase over, we headed to the campsite, which quite delightfully was situated on the very end of the peninsula, next to a lighthouse, restaurant and museum about ships. There was lots of space on the campsite and, despite no shower, there was a good washing facility.
Lighthouse at the tip of the peninsula
I was expecting that at this point, our tent pegs would be looking like witches fingers, but on most sties we had managed to find enough soft ground to get a peg in far enough to provide some security.
We look a little wander around and picked up a few ocean rounded volcanic rock, a much better souvenir than a fridge magnet. The beach was a great place to sit in the sun looking out to sea and think back about our trip through Iceland.
The immense lonely desolation of the Highlands, the thundering waterfalls, the frozen lava flows, the bubbling hot springs, the awe inspiring whales, the people we had met and the company we had kept all added up to a fantastic trip. I had heard nothing but great comments from Harry and I hoped that this introduction to adventure travel hadn’t been either too much or too little. I think it had hit the right spot.
We made our final dinner on Iceland and tried to use up as much as possible. All unneeded extras were left at the washing up faculty so hopefully someone would make use of them. I knew for sure the gas canister would be well received by someone.
The Viking beer went down well, even though it was the bog standard Euro Fizz that most lagers are. We didn’t make it a late one as we had to be up at 5am to pack away, get bags ready for the flight and return the Jeep which sat looking out to sea. The thing looked like it had driven through a volcano, but we were quite proud of it. It had got us where we wanted to go and in some comfort and security. We weren’t quite sure what would be said when we returned the vehicle, but as we had taken out all of the insurance products we weren’t too concerned.
Grubby Jeep, not at all Icelandic
We went to bed early, the campsite still being fairly quiet and were up early for one last cup of tea before cramming our bags to be ready for the plane. On the beach a mass of Eider ducks were all asleep with their young, perhaps 200, it looked a funny sight.
Returning the jeep was not a problem and the chap who had picked us up from the airport took us back again. This time he was very quiet but the presence of two of the coolest German Hipsters ever seen within the van sucked the ability to make light conversation and jokes out of the window.
The airport was busy and it took some time to get checked in but all was OK. Everywhere improvements and upgrades were being made to the airport and this was true for many parts of the country, especially where tourists would visit.
In many ways the bland corporate image took away from the reality of the country which was rough, rugged, desolate and beautiful. A Christian D’or shop really didn’t belong here. Oh well, if the visitors want it, they can have it!
So farewell Iceland, unique, impressive, earthy and tough. Thetta Redast!
