First trip to Iceland

This is a photo diary of the first hiking in Iceland, organized by the OutdoorUkraine tourist club. In the summer of 2016, our team walked the classic Laugavegur route for the first time, crossed “that same” unpronounceable volcano Eyjafjallajökull and traveled around the entire perimeter of Iceland in cars. Personally, the Icelandic weather and landscapes made such a huge impression on me that I lost the gift of coherent speech for a long time and therefore I am writing this report only two years after that wonderful hike.

For those who can’t handle the whole diary, I’ll write the most important thing here - there are very strong winds in Iceland. The wind can break your tent, rip the cover off your backpack, throw you off a cliff, or take your quadcopter to Valhalla. So get ready:) You're going to Iceland, aren't you?

1. Reykjavik is a dead city

It so happened that I and several other tourists flew to Iceland from Norway, where we had previously trekked through the Jotunheimen National Park. So, in comparison with Oslo, Reykjavik seemed an incredibly gloomy city. And if you remember how harsh the road from the airport was, you feel completely terrified (or rather, depressed).

Reykjavik greeted us with a gloomy sky, a deserted embankment and wild prices. We went to the grocery store for a snack and were stunned - a liter of yogurt cost more than 8 Euros.

Most of the city seemed dead. And only on the central pedestrian street was there any glimmer of life.

My friends were looking for a currency exchange and it turned out that there was only one exchange office open in the city (in some hostel or tourist center). We found her and even exchanged crowns, but somehow it all turned out to be stressful. You had to take money on a card and pay everywhere by bank transfer (like me) or change currency at the airport.

The main feature of Icelandic architecture is the walls covered with tin slate. Tough, isn't it?

On the way back to the campsite (3-4 km from the center), we looked into the famous “basalt” concrete church.

Soon the rest of the guys from our team were supposed to arrive and we ran to the campsite, where fortunately there was a more lively atmosphere than on these deserted streets.

2. Landmannalaugar - colored mountains

The morning started early - we got up at 4:30, quickly packed up the camp, at 6:30 we boarded a bus and drove deep into the island. At first I wanted to write that we “went to the mountains,” but these regions can only be called mountains with some stretch.

By 11am we arrived at the Landmannalaugar campsite. All campsites on this route are very large and extremely poorly equipped. Showers are most often paid (a dollar per minute), there is no kitchen. We set up the tents closer to the sanitary block so that it would be easier to run to the toilet at night. It was a polar day in Iceland and the sun barely set on the horizon. What I mean is that you can’t go to the toilet even on the street at night:)

Around 12:00 the water finally boiled and we cooked food (breakfast combined with lunch). They ate slowly, enjoying the incredible miracle of almost sunny weather. At the same time, we continued to slowly drag large stones into the parking lot and strengthen the guy ropes of the tents.

By 14:00 the weather had deteriorated, causing the lazy mood to suddenly disappear and we got ready for the evening radial. It was planned to climb the neighboring volcano Blakhnyukur. Its top was hidden in a cloud and seemed damn far away.

As soon as we rose above the valley, the colored mountains began to “clear up”. The hills and ravines surrounding the Landmannalaugar valley are truly colorful. True, the gloomy sky somewhat changed the perception, but it was still beautiful and... exotic or something.

We climbed to the top very quickly - just an hour after leaving the camp. Theoretically, a couple of glaciers should be visible from this volcano. But low clouds deprived us of our view.

We quickly took photos and, in order to somehow prolong the adventure, we decided to return home along a different road.

Do you see the reddish hill and the floating fumarole to the right? That's where we headed in their direction.

There were a couple of interesting moments on the descent to the river (slippery clay underfoot) and I was very glad that I was not lazy and took one trekking pole for the radial. It would have been even better with two, but the second pole was busy - it worked as the frame of my easy-moving tent.

Judging by this photo, that time we managed to cross the river without taking off our shoes. On my next visits to Landmannalaugar there was no such ball anymore - the river became deeper and I had to take off my shoes.

One of the tributaries of the river turned out to be thermal. A colony of some thermophilic microorganisms flourished in it.

In the same tributary, in addition to bacteria, a certain resourceful tourist decided to settle down (bare back in the background). He slightly dammed the stream, creating a micro-bath with hot water, into which he immersed himself.

We wanted to go to normal baths and we hurried to the camp. The fact is that next to our campsite there is an excellent place for swimming in a thermal river.

We passed through the lava chaos so quickly (remember the volcano?) that I didn’t even have time to take a good picture of it.

However, once we found ourselves at the campsite, we did not immediately run for swimsuits, but first went to a local store. Yes, this green bus is a store. Prices here are even more exorbitant than in Reykjavik, and the selection is poor. Thanks to this, we were able to relatively easily avoid the temptation of consumerism and leave the store without purchasing anything.

And here is the bathhouse we were so eager for. Despite the gloomy weather outside (see patches of snow on the slopes?), it was very comfortable to sit in the water. At first we were worried that because of the cold wind we would not be able (or rather, would not want) to get out of the water. But gradually we warmed up to such an extent that we were able to calmly change clothes and walk to the camp.

After dinner, we immediately went to bed (we had to wake up at 4 am). But around 21:00 I was woken up by a campsite employee. He said there was a storm coming and it would be a good idea to secure my tent. Crap! Strengthen? Yes, I've already strengthened it twice. I demolished boulders from all over the area and pressed down ALL the pegs (and I had at least 15 of them), attached additional guy wires... In short, I was sure that I was ready for any wind. But to ignore the warning would be too presumptuous, and I went for the stones again.

3. Storm or horizontal rain

At 2 o'clock in the morning the storm began. The wind had been strong before, but now the squalls became simply crushing. At some point, one of the guy lines of my tent slipped off the rock it was holding on. This could potentially cause the other quickdraws to come loose, but I was there to fix it.

The rise was scheduled for 6 am. But in fact, many had not slept for a long time - the tents were making too much noise in the wind.

The valley and surrounding mountains were covered with a nasty gray cloud. Some kind of drizzle periodically fell from it. It was clear that we were facing a not very comfortable transition and we needed to dress well. We immediately put on membrane jackets, ponchos (on top of the jackets), covers for backpacks and other “waterproofs”.

Around 9 am we set out on the route. Again we quickly passed a chaotic pile of lava blocks and slowed down at a large fumarole (this is when steam comes out of the ground).

This is the first real fumarole on our route. Of course, it smells dubious, but it gives off a thorough warmth. In fact, even without the fumaroles it was not cold at all. It seems that the sun is not visible, and the wind is strong, and there is snow on the slopes, but the air is still warm.

As soon as we emerged from behind the red Brönnisteynsald volcano into the open space, it became clear that the night storm there was not going to subside. The wind attacked us with furious force and... skill, or something. He managed to tear off our tightly buttoned raincoats and remove tightly wrapped covers from our backpacks.

It is not entirely clear from the photographs how strong the wind was. If you have a minute, watch the video on our YouTube. It conveys the power of the wind a little better. However, for the full range of sensations there is not enough sound - the air literally roared in my ears.

Because of the wind, a little rain received cinematic superpowers - it flew horizontally and at double speed. Thanks to this, rain was able to penetrate under jackets and raincoats almost unhindered. Despite all our clothes, we were thoroughly wet. This is how I realized that to hike in Iceland, you definitely need self-removing membrane pants.

The weather was not particularly conducive to stopping and we crossed the huge plateau in one go. It seems there was snow there, but the wind and fog made it difficult to perceive the surrounding area, so I'm not particularly confident in the reliability of my observations. The only thing I remember well was the fumaroles in some ravine. They remained in photographs and videos and it would be strange to doubt their reality.

By one o'clock in the afternoon we arrived at the Hrafntinnusker shelter, where we planned to spend the night. This shelter is located at a huge altitude for Iceland of 1074 meters (400 meters higher than the previous site). Most of the year it is covered with snow, but that time we were kind of lucky and there were no snowdrifts at the campsite. Have you noticed? I wrote “how lucky.” In fact, there was an option not to stop at this campsite, but to spend another 5 hours until the next one, where the altitude is lower and the air is warmer. But we weighed the pros and cons and decided to stay.

As I already wrote, we arrived at the shelter completely wet and we urgently needed to hide from the wind so as not to freeze. We literally pushed our girls into the vestibule of the shelter ("tent campers" are not allowed further than the vestibule), and we ourselves ran to set up tents. Wet foreign tourists stood densely in the vestibule, like sprat in a jar (by the way, they didn’t smell much better than ours). Fortunately, all this wet, humming mass was quite warm to the touch and the girls in our group did not freeze while the guys fought with the wind, trying to fix the tents. For example, I struggled with my tent for more than 30 minutes. And it was we who stood in the “shadow” of the shelter, where the wind blew at half strength.

When the housing issue was resolved, we took on the equally important task of drying clothes. You can’t dry anything in a tent in this weather, so we relied on drying it in that very vestibule. But there’s a crowd there and there’s no space and terrible humidity, you say. Yes, you are right, and this crowd, while we were playing with the tents, got so warm that they began to undress and hang their wet jackets on the ceiling beams. This was the key to victory - warm air goes up and is warmest right under the roof. We got a stepladder from under the rubble of clothes, broke into the attic and hung all the rafters with our junk. There were unique conditions for Iceland (warm, spacious and drafty) that allowed the clothes to really dry.

If upon arrival at the campsite the general mood in the group was slightly dampened, then by the evening, having successfully completed the most difficult everyday tasks, we perked up and felt like quite tough Vikings who don’t drown in water and don’t get spoiled in the wind.

4. Swan Lake Alftavatn

By morning the wind died down a little, but the tents were still blown and flattened with terrible force. In such conditions, all the shortcomings of the tent design are especially clearly and clearly revealed. I filmed the behavior of several of the most prominent representatives of the “canvas tribe” and made this video about choosing the right tent for a hike in Iceland

All the things hanging under the roof of the shelter have dried up. But the shoes, unfortunately, remained wet. And then I thought for the second time that if I had membrane pants, life would be much more comfortable. My shoes wouldn’t have gotten wet yesterday (it just leaked into my shoes and onto my trousers) and, in principle, they wouldn’t have needed to be dried.

We continued our way across the plateau in complete fog (more precisely, in a cloud). How does fog and wind combine? Yes, they somehow fit together. Most of the time visibility was no more than 100 meters. We moved exclusively on instruments, which, however, was not very difficult, because... Our instruments were guideposts. There was nothing special to photograph in such weather, it was also impossible to talk, and therefore we quickly and concentratedly moved towards the goal.

Only when we descended into the ravines did the fog recede and at least some chance appeared to capture our feat. By the way, compared to yesterday, a new type of obstacle appeared in the ravines - the clay slopes became soggy from the rain and sometimes we slid along them as if on ice. Some fell, some climbed, but no one whined. What's the point of whining if you can't hear anything?

So we reached the edge of the plateau and began our descent into the valley. At some point, the clouds retreated (we descended below the “base of clouds”) and the picture that opened struck us with its beauty. Several emerald rocks rose in the middle of the vast valley. And what is most surprising is that the sun was shining on them. Well, literally a few rays, but this is exactly a hundred times more than we have seen over the past 24 hours.

Taking advantage of the break in precipitation, we finally stopped and organized lunch. I don't remember if I was hungry, but shoulders! Oh, I will never forget the pain in my shoulders. After all, because of the rain, we again missed several breaks and the backpack, which was not heavy in principle, began to gain the upper hand over me.

After lunch we forded the first river. This ford was quite simple (not wide), one might say it was a training ford.

Our goal (Lake Alftavatn, or Swan) had long been looming ahead. The path became flatter and easier, and we accelerated more and more.

There were surprisingly few tents at Swan Lake. A year later, I easily counted more than a hundred tents in this campsite, and in 2016 there were less than 20. Looking for a calm place to camp, we wandered back and forth around the campsite and suddenly realized that it was too early to set up camp. The weather is nasty as always, you still have plenty of energy - why not take a walk to the next campsite? We looked at the map, rested a bit and went.

In order to cool down our marathon fervor a little, Iceland gave us another ford, literally half an hour from Swan Lake. Here again we had to take off our shoes, and then put on our shoes, and in general the river was wider and therefore it seemed that the water here was colder.

The rocks that pleased us so much on the descent from the plateau were now very close. And they were still just as beautiful.

The rangers of Icelandic campsites are extremely selfless and caring guys. They do not try to “register” you with them at any cost, but rather talk about other accommodation options. So at Yesterday’s Hraftinnusker we were recommended to go straight to Swan Lake, they say it’s warmer there. And Swan Lake advertised the Hvanngil shelter as less crowded and more protected from the wind.

The first 15 minutes at the Hvanngil parking lot (yes, we did put up tents) were really sunny and pleasant. But the advertising campaign quickly ended, the wind (no less sharp than on Alftavatn) and clouds turned on again.

Despite all the difficulties we had overcome, we were still not tired enough to just fall asleep. And so after dinner, part of the group went to look for a waterfall (there are countless of them in Iceland), and the rest lined up for a paid shower.

5. Volcanic desert

To refresh my memories of that trip, I am reviewing the diary (timing) that I kept during the trip. And wherever you look, there is a strange relaxation. Nobody was in a hurry. Does this still happen in this crazy world? So “today” almost 4 hours passed from the rise to the start of the route. Perhaps this has something to do with the brief appearance of the sun over our camp. Everyone immediately relaxed and stopped fussily stuffing things into backpacks and pockets. How little is needed to be happy on a hike))

We knew that somewhere nearby, no more than 30 minutes from the shelter, there must be a deep ford across the river. And suddenly we come across a bridge. The people were happy - they say the ball has arrived, we are saved and all that.

But literally 10 minutes later we came to the next, much wider river. And here, of course, there were no bridges. To cross to the other side I had to take off not only my shoes, but also my trousers. As a result, I wrote it down in my diary: “10:20 crossing in shorts.” So, the current in this river is not too strong (at first we wanted to cross as a “wall”), but the temperature of the water... The cold physically hurt my feet, I wanted to grimace and wince with every step along the bottom.

It is not surprising that the river was cold. To the left, about 20 kilometers away, one could see a huge glacier from which it apparently originated.

And an endless black desert awaited us. It is covered with fine volcanic crumbs, on which stunted flowers survive with great difficulty (about 1 flower per 1 square meter of space). It is difficult to call such soil fertile. So there is nothing surprising in the fact that the “green” that you see on the slopes of the mountains is moss, not grass.

Walking through such a desert is easy, but terribly boring. If it weren’t for the player with audiobooks and my favorite music, I probably would have fallen asleep on the move and fallen off the edge of the earth.

The others also struggled with drowsiness and the group’s movement speed began to fall despite the simplicity of the site. I had to make lunch to somehow unwind and change the situation.

We had lunch near a small but powerful waterfall. As I found out later, this was the beginning of the canyon that drove us crazy a couple of hours later.

Read the index below. There are as many as 152 km left to Mordor! I was absolutely sure that we were already there. And here's the news.

Then the brain switched off and the body continued to walk on autopilot. Our path took a little to the left, went around the next emerald rocks and continued the torture of the black desert.

Finally, we took a gentle slope and the Emstrur Botnar shelter appeared below. There, a very lively administrator explained to us that in the immediate vicinity of the shelter all the tent spaces were reserved for some bourgeoisie. And we need to pay for camping and go to the ravine. Yes, down there into the ravine. Go already...

The ravine turned out to be a much cooler place than it might seem when you look at it from above. Firstly, there is a lot of greenery (for Iceland). Secondly, there is a stream to wash dishes. And of course, it was warmer and calmer in the ravine than on the surface.

We quickly set up our tents and headed to a certain canyon, designated in guidebooks as the main attraction of this corner of the galaxy. Then it turned out that the female half of the group was determined to take charge of guarding the camp (and not go anywhere). Okay, let's go for a walk ourselves.

It was about a 30-minute walk to the canyon and for most of this time we were not “showed” anything interesting. But when we approached the cliff... Oh, the gorge turned out to be simply magnificent - large-scale and cinematic, or something. In the good sense of the word. The sheer walls of the canyon were colorful, like a Christmas tree. Far below, some seagulls were hovering and the very river by which we had lunch today was making noise.

We walked along the edge of the cliff for more than an hour, from one observation point to another, continuously taking pictures and taking pictures. It's a pity that the girls didn't come with us.

When we got back to camp, it was like Times Square. Those tent sites that we had previously rejected as not level enough were now densely populated by new arrivals. “Our” clearing was also compacted, but it’s not scary. The main thing is that there was almost no wind (a rare phenomenon for Iceland).

6. Thor's Forest

It seemed to me that it was the warmest night during our entire 2-week trip to Iceland. In the middle of the night I had to wake up and take off my thermal underwear, because it was +14 outside, and even more so in the tent.

In the morning I watched an amazing scene - my camping neighbor was collecting dew from the walls of his tent using a car water scraper. I’m not ready to carry such a thing with me yet, but I can experiment with a tiny microfiber towel.

That day it so happened that we set out on the route at the same time as a bunch of other tourists. Until the evening we stepped on each other's heels, overtook and fell behind.

About 30 minutes after leaving the campsite we reached another canyon. Luckily there was a bridge there and we didn’t have to swim across the river. No less pleasing were the so-called “railings” on the unpleasant descent to the bridge. Compared to the beautifully realized chain railings in the Polish Tatras these stunted ropes evoked sympathy.

Having climbed the basalt ridge, we again saw the edge of yesterday’s Markarfljótsgljúfur canyon (I love Icelandic place names!). And on the opposite side, in the haze, the blue of the ocean could be discerned. It was a full 40 km away, but some people were worried. When tourists smell the sea, the morale in the group can disappear in a matter of seconds. But we still need to cross the volcano. Do you see those snow caps on the ridge? This is where we will need to break through tomorrow.

The main event of today was supposed to be the meeting with trees (there were none throughout the entire trek). Somewhere ahead, at the foot of the mountains, is hidden Thor's Forest - one of the few forested areas in Iceland. The Icelanders considered it sacred and thanks to this the forest was preserved.

But in fact, the first trees (stunted polar birches and aspens) met us in secluded ravines long before we entered Thor's Forest. Of course, they were closer in height to bushes, but we still enjoyed the trees like beavers.

Fatigue gradually accumulated. The breaks became a little longer, the pace of walking a little slower. But everyone’s appetite had improved - I wanted to eat all the time, and I made a note to myself that for hiking in Iceland, increased food allowances are needed.

After lunch, we forded another river - shallow, but very wide. Immediately behind it began the very forest of Thor. The trees there were at most 5-7 meters in height, but the grass and horsetails were juicy and appetizing. And in this very grass there were numerous mushrooms sticking out. Foreigners proudly walked past them, but ours couldn’t resist cutting up mushrooms for dinner. Most likely, picking mushrooms and berries is prohibited here, but...

The shelter and campsite at Thor's Forest seemed like a corner of paradise to us. The sun was shining, the grass was green, and the stream was babbling. We set up our tents, scattered our things around the clearing to dry, and settled down ourselves. I didn’t want to go to any evening radials or photo hunts. True, after an hour we gained some strength and ran to the stall (!!!!) for cookies and chocolates. Gradually the people began to stir up - we started peeling mushrooms and queuing for the shower.

Directly opposite our camp, behind a wide river, an impenetrable mountain range rose. Tomorrow we will try to defeat him.

7. Eyjafjallajökull Volcano

Unexpectedly, this particular night turned out to be the coldest of the entire trip. We stood at a meager altitude (less than 300 m), in a forest area, on sun-warmed ground (grass). And suddenly in the morning the thermometer showed -1. Perhaps this has something to do with the proximity of the stream (last time we spent the night on the stream), or maybe it’s because heavy cold air from the glacier “slipped” into our valley. Don't know. But the fact is a fact - overnight the temperature dropped by more than 15 degrees, and dew covered everything around with a centimeter layer of moisture. As a result, the tents became so heavy that the idea of ​​wiping them with a towel no longer seemed so crazy.

With the help of original movable bridges, we crossed the Krossa River and began climbing the volcano. The terrain here is surprisingly rugged, somewhat reminiscent of the Grand Canyon in the USA. Mountain ranges and ridges intersect at the most intricate angles, rivers flow in circles, snow falls upward. By the way, the weather that day continued to break records - instead of the expected cold snap (we got close to the glaciers), it gave us real Icelandic heat (this is when it’s +20). We did not expect such a turn at all, many of us took little water out of old memory, and then suddenly this happened.

Our speed continued to drop. But the good thing about Iceland is that the summer days here are truly endless (the sun never sets) and you don’t have to worry about running out of time to get somewhere. Therefore, we walked calmly and rested calmly - much more often and longer than at the beginning of the trek. And thanks to the good weather, there was something to do at the rest stops - we went to take pictures at cliffs and glaciers.

At the highest point of our route we passed several fresh craters. Just a couple of years ago, lava flowed here, on the pass, and from the neighboring, central crater, thousands of cubic meters of ash rose to the sky... Now it’s just two heaps of rubble surrounded by dirty snowfields.

Another 300 meters along the plateau and the descent to the sea began. At its beginning, the trail crosses a glacier. There was little snow this summer and therefore moving along the glacier was more difficult than usual. In addition, one of the participants in the hike had a terrible pain in his knee. We periodically leaned down, bandaged, lubricated and numbed the sore joint, but this helped little. My leg needed real rest. But we couldn’t stop - we had to get to the water.

Yes, there were tensions with water in the group. The rising heat had taken its toll and now only a few people had bottled water left. Theoretically, we could melt the snow and make tea, but in practice it would take longer than going down to the river, so we decided to keep going.

The sky in the afternoon finally acquired its usual leaden hue. But it didn’t rain, so we didn’t have a formal excuse to stay longer in the cool A-frame shelter (see photo below). There you have to take off your shoes to enter, and this is such a hassle on a hike. So we walked past.

Below the shelter the trail turned into a normal dirt road. To the left were the outlines of the canyon. The speed increased, we sensed water.

Oh, literally after 30 minutes there was an incredible amount of water. We walked along the Skogar River where there was a waterfall every 200 meters. You walk a kilometer and you see 5 waterfalls. You pass one more - 5 more waterfalls. An amazing country and an amazing planet.

We already had water, so as soon as we came across a flat clearing, we threw off our tired backpacks and began to set up camp. It was around 18:30, just 10 hours after leaving the previous parking lot. I can’t say that the pass was so easy for us, but I expected more difficulties, or at least longer:)

Closer to 22:00, when most of the group was already asleep, I crawled onto a nearby hill in search of the Internet. In addition to a completely stable signal, I found a beautiful view of Eyjafjallajökull there. I wanted to write something about the sunset, but then I remembered that it’s fiction and the sun doesn’t go anywhere here.

8. Valley of Skogar waterfalls

Today everyone set their alarms for 5 am. Last night I connected to the Internet and looked at the bus schedule. To get out into civilization today, we need to be at Skogafoss waterfall before 11 am. And it takes from 2 to 3 hours to get there.

I don’t know if it’s clear from the photo, but the night was very warm - even in my superventilated tent it was +10.

In Iceland, a large proportion of domestic sheep graze free-range. They are released into the mountains and live there quite comfortably and independently all summer. Most often they walk in small groups of 2-3 furry mowers. And yet, there is an opinion that even such moderate grazing harms the fragile ecosystem of the Arctic region.

The Skogar River continued to delight with dozens of waterfalls. Our friend with a bad knee was falling further and further behind, and while waiting for him, we meditated for a long time on the flying water.

Soon, however, crowds of day-trippers came towards us and the solitary unity with nature came to an end. Looks like the bus is already close.

And now we are climbing the fence at the upper observation deck of the Skogafoss waterfall. We still have about an hour before our flight and have the opportunity to take good photos at this stunning waterfall.

And then there was a bus to Vic, where we were going to rob a supermarket, take pictures of puffins and finally set the Internet on fire with our photos. Thus ended the trek through Iceland... but our adventure did not end! There is still a whole week before the plane home. We will rent cars and drive around all of Iceland. Let's see the Glacier Lagoon, Myvatn volcanoes, humpback whales and seals, the Golden Circle and a bunch of other attractions. Read about all this in the next part.

To be continued...

Photo and text - Kirill Yasko, December 2018