Volcanoes and Lava

Iceland is the newest and most volcanic part of the planet, and it was exciting to stand in the middle of the steamy 1984 lava field at Krafla with one foot in Europe and one in America, at the precise point where the continents are moving apart (two centimetres a year). We visited Hekla and walked to the freshest, five-year-old lava through fields of ash, uncomfortably aware that the volcano only gives a one-hour warning before erupting. At Landmannalaugar the mature 1480 lava field next to the campsite made a wonderful maze to explore. Around Kverkfjoll in the remote interior were volcanoes of all sorts (caldera, fissure, sub-glacial, shield), and utter desolation with nothing growing, yet still surprisingly varied and colourful. Askja was a thought-provokingly monstrous caldera, entered through the red 1961 lava field; inside it Iceland's deepest lake was created in the eruption of 1875, along with a small crater which we bathed in, and the whole region is covered in honey-coloured pumice (and was chosen as a suitably lunar spot to practise for the first moon landing).

Glaciers and Ice

Yes, Iceland does have ice, in plenty: vast permanent ice-caps, with Vatnajokull the world's biggest outside the Antarctic and Greenland, a kilometre thick. Spectacular glaciers pour down from them, and we tried to walk on three of these; but we were frustrated at the first two, Gigjokull and Skaftafellsjokull, by some pretty convincing evidence of global warming. The foot of Gigjokull especially had changed in three years from a broad platform of ice to an iceberg-strewn lake.

Even at Kverkfjoll, 3000 feet up, a planned walk was aborted because a vital snow slope had vanished; but there we did at last manage to go for a walk on a glacier. The beautiful south coast glacial lagoons of Fjallsarlon and Jokulsarlon were even more crowded with icebergs than usual.

Hot Springs

It is a typically Icelandic irony that the world's most powerful geothermal area is under the centre of an ice-cap; but the ground in the whole country is so leaky and thin that there are hot springs, steam vents and the like all over the place. Some of us walked several miles to explore a fascinating collection of them near Landmannalaugar; we met bubbling hot mud pools and smelly sulphur near Myvatn; we camped at Hveravellir in a hot spring oasis (where finding cold water was the problem); at Geysir we watched the geysir Strokkur perform every few minutes. And, of course, there was the hot water bathing. The Blue Lagoon in blazing sunshine made a surreal start to the whole trip, closely followed by the amazing public baths next to the Reykjavik campsite. At Landmannalaugar the non-stop-in-the-water record was raised by six wrinkled overnighters to fifteen hours. The deep explosion crater Viti at Askja made perhaps the weirdest swimming pool. And so on...

Waterfalls

When a glacier melts you get big rivers, and when a river goes through crumbly volcanic rock you get canyons and waterfalls; and Iceland has a world-class collection. Some were monstrous and terrifying, like Dettifoss which was sending five hundred tons of water a second roaring over a forty-metre drop in clouds of spray. Some were smaller and walkable-behind, such as Seljalandsfoss and Svartifoss. Some combined beauty and power, like Gullfoss, the Golden Falls, decorated by a brilliant spray-bow. In the sunny weather the rivers were fuller than usual, and one road was closed by flooding two days after we passed.

Travelling and Walking

We had our own big chunky bus with its driver Halldor (Dori) who became a good friend. Being two-wheel drive, it did get stuck in one river and had to be towed across another deep one by a lorry, but otherwise it coped admirably with all that the Icelandic tracks could throw at it: gravel, sand, lava, bone-shaking corrugations, unbridged rivers. The drives, averaging perhaps four hours a day, were never just A to B: the scenery we were passing through was itself always of absorbing interest. We more or less circled the island anti-clockwise, with some major diversions into the wilderness interior. Every day there were walks on offer, from one to six hours long, up small local hills or through lava fields or down the Jokulsa canyon, or hot-spring hunting or wandering through strange rock formations, or even exploring Reykjavik and Akureyri. On one day we were towed in a trailer behind a tractor across a wet lagoon to walk on the island of Ingolfshofdi, where we were entertained by puffins and dive-bombing bonxies.

Camping

In spite of all the unexpected dangers of the strange Icelandic terrain, the most challenging activity for some was probably the camping. Pitching and looking after tents, organising kit, cooking, washing up, sleeping - all these unusual skills had to be developed. Everyone became an expert camper, although it was lucky for some that the weather was good. Cooking was done in groups of four or five, and the food was of course excellent - or excruciating, depending on taste: it doesn't pay to be fastidious on a camping trip, but a lot of little extra luxuries were bought during our occasional shopping stops (at twice British prices). It helped that we were always on public campsites (because we were always in nature reserves), usually with both cold and hot water on tap. Some of the party proved to be great ambassadors, fraternising with all sorts of fellow campers from scouts to anarchists.

And again?

The trip went well: my thanks to all the party for coping so admirably and making it so enjoyable. The next trip is already booked for 2008, all being well: it may be the last in the series!

J. J. C. Fenton