Return to Iceland, Pt. 9

Mývatn and surrounds

Breakfast at the guesthouse included cereal, hard-boiled eggs and small, flat, almost crepe-like pancakes that tasted like almonds. For coffee: a machine that would noisily grind the beans for you and make a pretty good – if small – cup, or a typical dispenser with pre-brewed coffee in it, which was faster, but tasted far, far worse. Let’s just say I was glad to have options!

The ground outside was covered in frost that crunched underfoot and we found the car coated in a thin layer of ice. But, the sun was out, and the defroster made short work of the ice on the windscreen. We hopped on the Ring Road toward Mývatn and reached Vindbelgjarfjall by 10am.

Mývatn means “midge lake” and is known for hatching huge numbers of midges in the summer.

I chose to start the day with a hike while we had plenty of energy. I planned to venture to the top of Vindbelgjarfjall, a hyaloclastite ridge formed in the last Ice Age, due to its reasonable length and the promise of great views. However, I had to admit that, initially, the climb did look a little bit intimidating. The trail was steep and icy in parts but featured plenty of switchbacks. Taking our time with frequent breaks got us all the way to the summit 1,736 feet above sea level.

The view over Mývatn was as good as advertised. Not only that, but we had it all to ourselves. Cold wind whipped around us as we surveyed our surroundings. There were pseudo-craters, islands, and puffs of steam scattered around the landscape. I could see the roads looping around Lake Mývatn and the small community of Reykjahlíð in the distance, along with the large, sloping crater rim of Hverfjall. Big, dynamic clouds rolled through the area. It was totally different from anywhere else we’d been.

lake myvatn panorama

We found shelter from the wind near the top of the trail behind a large cairn. “Just a couple of field mice,” I said, as we hunkered down and shared an energy bar. The way down was a lot easier, if still a little cold. We pulled our jacket hoods tight around our faces.

We’d worked up an appetite that we hoped to satiate at Vogafjós Cowshed Café, but they were too busy to seat us, thanks to a tour group reservation. Daddi’s Pizza – just down the road – came to our rescue. The walls inside were painted with a representation of the nearby Dimmuborgir lava formations. The lady at the counter goodnaturedly tried to talk us into a large pie, but we were happy to share a medium. It was so satisfying!

The Yule Lads are said to live deep in a cave in Dimmuborgir.

Next up, Grjótagjá cave, which has gained some notoriety from an appearance in Game of Thrones. It was much more interesting than I thought it would be. We crouched down inside and observed the still, blue, acidic water as a light beam entered the cave from above.

Topside, a dramatic, steaming fissure stretched into the distance. From 1975 to 1984, the water temperature at Grjótagjá rose above 50 °C during nearby eruptions.

geothermal spring inside a cave
geological fissure

The road took us up and around Namafjall to Hverir geothermal area. This seemed to be a very popular spot. Even so, it was a very atmospheric and otherworldly landscape, shrouded in thick clouds of steam. Orange clay stuck to our boots as we walked around. We were surrounded by interesting colors, smells, and the sounds of bubbling mud pots and hissing steam vents.

geothermal area boardwalk
colorful iceland geothermal landscape

Ready to relax a bit, we headed for Mývatn Nature Baths, known as the “Blue Lagoon of the north.” After paying admission, we were provided with tokens that could be used to claim lockers in the changing rooms. You drop the token in the slot which allows you to take the key with a handy elastic cord you wrap around your wrist.

Outside, a digital thermometer gave the temperature as 5.6 °C. That made for a chilly scramble from the changing rooms to the warmth of the pools! There were a lot more people than we expected in the pale blue waters, but we still enjoyed it. The main pool was pleasantly warm. We dashed over a walkway to a less crowded (and cooler) one, but it wasn’t long before we returned.

Our surroundings, and the view over Myvatn, certainly felt more authentic and natural than the Blue Lagoon, though both spas only exist thanks to the mineral-rich discharge of geothermal power plants. At any rate, it was a good excuse to slow down and hang out.

myvatn ring road

After so many days of good weather, rain clouds finally started to move in. I decided to backtrack out toward Laugar so that we could see Goðafoss before the weather took a turn. The photogenic waterfall was visible from the roadway. With a guesthouse, an ample parking lot, and a gas station, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at the constant stream of visitors.

Lawspeaker Þorgeir Ljósvetningagoði threw his pagan idols into the churning waters of Goðafoss after Iceland adopted Christianity as the national religion.

We wandered around for awhile and I found a spot a little farther from the action to set up my tripod. While we could have gone round to the other side and even gotten down to the water, we were both starting to feel fatigued. We bid farewell to Goðafoss and returned to the guesthouse.

godafoss waterfall

Dalakofinn provided another delicious meal – fish and chips for me, a burger for Katelyn. I spent the rest of the evening checking photos from the day and updating my daily journal notes. We thought about jumping in the hot tub, but felt we’d had our fill from the Nature Baths, and ended up dozing off early.

Both of us were just falling asleep when there was some commotion outside. Figuring it was either people returning from the hot tub in the frigid night air, or the northern lights, I finally got up and peered out the window. I didn’t see anything at first, though I noticed some people gathering around the corner, so I went to that side and looked out the little window in the top of our door. I could hardly believe it – the sky was clearing and a patch of light green color was visible. I woke up Katelyn and we somehow managed to dress ourselves in the dark.

I was happy to see any aurora at all, and I thought, “this is nice, it’ll disappear soon and we’ll go back inside.” But when it became clear that it was sticking around, I rushed inside and gathered my camera equipment. My sleep-fogged brain offered a memory of my stuff covered in condensation and I snatched up my neoprene camera case at the last minute.

We went about a hundred feet from our room and I started taking test shots. The moon rose in the east, casting its light on the landscape, and some light was cast off by nearby buildings. The aurora was brightening as well. I found that using too long a shutter speed meant a loss of detail in the churning waves of light. The following settings seemed to work well:

  • ISO 1600
  • 8s – 13s shutter
  • f/4.0
aurora above guesthouse storu-laugar
green aurora at night over a quiet countryside

At some point, a guesthouse employee knocked on the doors of other guests, presumably to alert them to the aurora. They also turned off the exterior lights. That really helped us see the color, shape and movement of the aurora. As for us, we pretty much stayed put; it occurs to me now that, had we been less tired and cold, we could have returned to Goðafoss where I’m sure the scene was quite amazing. The truth is, I’d just about given up on seeing the aurora at all, and wasn’t about to miss it by driving around in the car!

After a while, I packed everything up. The camera went into the neoprene case which I then wrapped up in my jacket. I hoped this would result in less of a shock when returning to our room. We stayed outside for another 15 minutes or so just appreciating the show. It flowed like a river, or like fog, separating into bands only to combine again. Colors and shapes ebbed and strengthened. All I could say was “Wow!” over and over. The camera captured it well enough in its own way, but I hope I never forget how we saw it with our own eyes.