This entry is part 3 of 13 in the series Iceland North to South

Distance covered: 28 miles

It starts overcast and windy, at least the wind will be on my back. The other good news is that I’ll be on a real hiking trail today. A rare, welcome event, I won’t find another such trail until the final 2 days of the trip. I also know this trail is easy to follow, not only from reports but from previous, own experience, and this is the other, funny part: I was hiking on this trail 16 years back, no less. Back then, the same northerlies as expected today left me dripping wet and cold to the point that I bailed out mid-way. I’m here now to fill that gap.

Not crowded today in the Asbyrgi campground

On the other end of the trail is Dettifoss, the most massive and spectacular of Iceland waterfalls. My plan is to get there today, then keep going for as long as I reasonably can.

There is little vegetation in Iceland that’s not grass or moss. Bush belongs only in selected areas and a good part of it is found in the Asbyrgi lowlands. This is bad news today: the low bush is saturated with water so there’s no escape from a good lower leg soaking. It gets foggier and less bushy as I climb. Then it’s wind-driven drizzle. Not pretty.

The trail eventually takes me to the first views of the Jokulsa a Fjollum canyon, another measure of the sheer power of the natural forces at play in Iceland.

The Jokulsa a Fjollum canyon

It’s dark, wet and cold. I started early in the morning and met nobody on the trails until I crossed paths with two other backpackers. Then I spotted some climbers in the distance, next a couple of day hikers. This all meant I was getting close to mid trail in Vesturdalur, where there’s road access and a basic campground. The trail goes through some spectacular basalt column formations that show how special Iceland is.

Iceland Specialities

Up close

I regularly check north for a short-term forecast and it now shows a bit lighter shade of grey. Good timing for the rain to stop as I get to the Vesturdalur car park, it feels awful to be in the rain when everybody else has a choice. I have some lunch and resume the hiking as the drizzle returns.

The path climbs back up and close to the rim for some of the most spectacular, Lord-of-the-rings worthy canyon views.

Mighty glacial river and volcanic rock

Huge canyon walls in the Jokulsa

This section is a trip down memory lane as I retrace my 16 year old steps. I recognize the place despite the time lapse, helped by the equally grim weather.

As the trail climbs, it leaves the vegetation behind. The bare rock environment looks increasingly desolate as the drizzle gets denser and I start to get uncomfortably wet. I take a wrong turn at a junction which means I get to the Dettifoss car park before going along the falls and not the other, preferable way around. The car park is a huge shock: as I struggle to keep warm and dry, I see these loads of people walking carelessly underdressed out of their vehicles, cameras out in the air to walk the footpath to the falls. They’ll be out in the drizzle for minutes, not hours, and they have a warm, dry place to return to.

I join the pilgrimage and meet mighty Dettifoss again. This is where the sideways drizzle meets the thicker upwards spray from the falls. I lose interest in finding a good picture spot as my mood deteriorates and I start to hate it all. I went to Dettifoss and this is all the document I got:

Dettifoss

It rains, I’m wet and cold. I’m in the middle of nowhere and at the same time in the middle of a car park full of tourists. It’d be easy to hitch a ride out but that’s not part of the plan. I’m well aware I need to think and ponder my options calmly and this is best done out of the rain. My only, non-glamorous chance is the latrines. I felt sorry to keep one busy for 20 minutes but I really needed some respite from the weather and from wearing the pack so I could stop, think and take good decisions.

My initial plan was to go cross country from here, roughly a one day walk to get to Myvatn, last checkpoint before the highland section of the trip. I had little clue on what kind of terrain I’d find or how difficult it’d be to hike or navigate. At that moment I felt a cross country route to Myvatn was out of the question. In fact, I was questioning the whole validity of my hiking in this weather and I was seriously considering hitching a ride.

Hitching out was not what I came here for. Taking the easy way out is not what I meant when I planned to hike across Iceland, I meant to take Iceland as it came. This is itself a challenge, what’s more, this is THE challenge: not giving up when it’d be easy to do so.

I know, this is a very minor, silly case of endurance but it is my silly case.

I have options. There’s a campsite nearby. It’s just a grassy spot with a faucet but it’s sheltered from the wind. I could make myself comfortable and wait for quieter weather tomorrow. Starting from here, I could still make it to Myvatn, albeit over a very long day.
I can also hunker down my coat and keep hiking along the road. It’s a valid way into Myvatn, just longer than the cross-country route but it’d free me from any operation other than the walking. I can do that.

I step out of the latrine shed with a plan to keep walking. It’ll keep me warm.

The road goes over a huge, featureless, mostly grassy plain. It’s beautiful in its own gloomy way. At some point, the wind comes down and the drizzle eases. It eventually stops. The breeze gets me virtually dry and suddenly all is going well. This is a reminder to myself: it all comes down fine eventually.

I start practicing the lost art of finding a sheltered campsite in the land with no features. Then my tent is up and I start trusting that everything’s gonna be OK.

Safe shelter

It’ll be a quiet, comforting night.

Cosy at last

Series Navigation<< Leirhofn to AsbyrgiDettifoss road to Myvatn >>