Iceland, Pt. 2

After a full day in the city, we were excited to venture into Iceland’s legendary landscapes. We enlisted Moonwalker tours to take us on their version of the Golden Circle. Our driver, Bessi, picked us up in MOON1, his Land Rover Defender, the third such truck he’s owned. According to him, their reputation for ruggedness and reliability sees them sometimes used as tractors on farms. As we moved through the city, he apologized for the large number of roundabouts; an overzealous mayor ordered their construction, which earned that person the nickname “Lord of the Rings.”

Þingvellir

Bessi dropped us at Þingvellir National Park and took the opportunity to point out long, rocky seams in the landscape. These were fissures, he explained, evidence of the land moving, heaving and shearing. He left us to take a walk alongside one of these fissures, pointing out the path we should take and where he would meed us at the end.

Iceland’s landmass grows at a rate of about one inch per year.

Þingvellir carries a special meaning for Icelanders as the site of the original Alþingi council. In the old days, people came from far and wide to socialize, decide on legislation and resolve disputes. The beauty and quiet of Þingvellir was marred only by an enormous group of obnoxious bus tourists led by a man shouting into a megaphone.

A boardwalk took us across the river and past Þingvallakirkja. Bessi met us at the end of the path where we paused at vibrant blue wishing pool into which visitors had cast coins from all over the world.

Bessi next drove us into the nearby hills. We peered into the utter darkness of a lava tube descending about 1/4 mile into the earth. The formation was created when a lake in the area slowly burned off in a massive lava flow. As we returned to MOON1, a pair of large, black birds landed ahead of us. Whether they were ravens or crows, I’m not sure, but Bessi winked and said “Odin is watching!” (referring to the ravens Huginn and Muninn of Norse mythology).

Laugarvatn and Geysir

We observed many sheep on our descent. They’re permitted to roam all around the island. “That’s why they taste so good,” joked Bessi. The sheep are rounded up just before winter starts in the annual Réttir. If you’re in the right town at the right time, visitors are often invited to join in. There are celebrations afterward, and it all sounded like a blast, but I have a feeling the reality of chasing sheep all day in Icelandic weather is a little less exciting.

Our next stop was at Laugarvatn’s geothermal beach. Bessi brewed coffee for us using water that was well over boiling temperature. In fact, the nearby café bakes its bread in a casing buried in the sand. The warm coffee and small caffeine kick were very welcome. A nearby steam drill hole puffed away merrily as we enjoyed the view over the lake and checked out sizzling puddles and sulfur deposits.

Continuing the theme, we stopped at the geothermal park featuring Geysir, from which all geysers derive their name, and his cousin Strokkur. Geysir was inactive at the time, but Strokker showed up with a couple of spurts.

When Bessi was a kid, Geysir was known to erupt more often, though still not frequently. His family waited for 3 hours before his Grandma said “screw it” and went to use the bathroom. Of course, Geysir erupted while she was gone. The rest of the family joked that the flush of her toilet triggered the geyser!

We wandered around the area and ran into a super friendly tourist who took our picture (and loaned us little Icelandic flags for the occasion).

We ate lunch at the busy visitor center where I got my first taste of lamb (not in hotdog form) in a delicious soup. Bessi gave us some advice on seeing the aurora, pulling up a forecast on his phone, but it appeared we’d be seeing a lot of heavy cloud cover over the next few days.

Langjökull

It was time to go off the beaten path. Bessi warmed up the truck (and raised our heart rates) with some light all-terrain driving. MOON1 tackled the inclines effortlessly and carried us across a small stream. We were ready to visit a glacier, something we’d never seen in person.

Bessi stopped to deflate the tires a bit. This would increase surface area – and consequently grip – to help MOON1 navigate the highland road. In the meantime we walked around, observing the desolate, treeless landscape. There was no sound but the wind. Langjökull could be seen in the distance. It looked sunny there, and indeed, we learned that sunlight reflecting off the glacier tended to keep it free of clouds.

One of the roads to Langjökull was recently graded – a film production had been working nearby and had smoothed it out for free. Soon enough, however, we were negotiating a rough, rutted track with enormous rocks. Following some of these roads would take you deep into the highlands. As for us, we crested a hill and the shining glacier stretched out in front of us. Bessi took us all the way down and then found a good spot to drive onto the ice. It was like being on the shore of a frozen ocean.

As we climbed out, Bessi warned us to be mindful of holes, which have been known to claim unwary travelers. We stepped gingerly around MOON1, enjoying the sun and blue sky, and generally being awed by our surroundings. Clean, clear water trickled all around, accompanied by the occasional sounds of ice cracking. The glacier extended as far as we could see. I was captivated by the craggy peaks of Hagafell abutting the ice. “It never gets old taking people here,” Bessi said. I had to agree when he said it was a near-spiritual experience.

He encouraged us to fill our water bottles with glacier water, claiming it would taste fresh and clean, and indeed it did. As MOON1 trundled down the glacier, Bessi took a short video to post to Snapchat. He happily received “hate mail” from his friends for the rest of the day!

Bessi mentioned he’d trained for 3 years with the Iceland search and rescue volunteer service, and spent another 3 years working the highlands. They would purposely go out in bad weather to test their mettle. One time they got a distress call from a group trapped on the glacier whose equipment had been blown away in a sudden gale. Assuming they were tourists, Bessi and his team picked them up, got them warmed up – and found out they were British SAS! It goes to show that the harshness of Iceland can take even the best-prepared by surprise.

Gullfoss

Mighty Gullfoss, one of Iceland’s most iconic waterfalls, was next. We followed the path along the top first, then descended down to a rocky area where the water was near-deafening. I offered to take some photos for people who were trying to take selfies, and they took some for us in return. I found it challenging to capture the scale and power of the falls in any single photo.

“Are you hungry?” Bessi asked us when we returned. He’d spent the time filling the tires back up. “I know someplace with the best tomato soup in the world.” That sold us, and we were off to Friðheimar, a geothermal greenhouse complete with its own bumblebees.

Instead of throwing away perfectly good produce that was deemed unworthy for store shelves, they owners opened up a café on the premises, selling soup, bread and other products. This reminded me of an article I’d seen about a grocery store in Iceland that sold produce past its expiration date for low prices. “It’s fine,” said Bessi, “but the store is not very good, really.” We continued to chat about the cost of living in Iceland and in San Francisco.

On our way out, we pulled over to say hello to some stout Icelandic horses. Bessi lured them over with grass and we got to spend a few minutes with them… before Bessi’s leg touched the electric fence! The horses were startled by Bessi’s sudden movement (and we speculated whether the current might have gone through his hand and shocked the horse he was petting). We all felt bad for the horses, but everyone was OK and it was still a nice stop.

Volcano

Not far from Reykjadalur, Bessi guided MOON1 up an extinct volcano that is now mined for its soft, red gravel (apparently the horses love to walk on paths lined with the stuff). The colors and striations in the crater were really cool to see – like standing on Mars. Then we went up to the top for the incredible views of South Iceland. We could just barely see the base of Eyjafjallajökull in the distance.

It was finally time to head back to Reykjavik. Bessi treated MOON1 to an “Icelandic car wash” as we 4×4’d through a river in the hills. Startled fish leapt out of the water as we tore through. “The fisherman hate me,” he said, and I joked that it was because they kept fishing out his license plates (which he previously mentioned he has a tendency to lose). Once, when Bessi was messing around on a dirtbike upriver, one fisherman in particular wasn’t pleased with his antics – Eric Clapton, who was definitely not in the mood to sign autographs.

We followed a system of large steam pipes down the hill to a geothermal plant, then through a moss-covered lava field. It really couldn’t have been a more amazing day and we thanked Bessi profusely when he dropped us off.