Hellisheidarvirkjun (or Hellisheidi) heat and power plant constitutes the largest power station of Iceland and the second largest geothermal power station in the world.
Among the many interesting things we learned that 26% of Iceland’s electricity comes from geothermal. There are many other uses for the water, including home heating, showers etc,but also being distributed under the roads and sidewalks to melt the ice in the winter, before the used water is pumped back into the ground to maintain pressure of the geo-thermal sources for future use. Much of the geothermal water pumped from as deep as 2,000 metres (yes that is 2 km!) is too hot and toxic to be used in bathrooms so that water is used to heat clean surface or close-to-surface water which is safe to pump to Reykjavik for residential use.
Hellisheidi is only a couple of hours from the capital so it was an easy drive from there into Reykjavik from whence Stephen was leaving the next day on the same plane as Laura was arriving.
The opportunity for outdoor adventure is one of the big draws of Iceland, and no single outdoor adventure site is a bigger draw than Landmannlauger. Situated in the highlands a few hours drive from the south coast, its popularity is based on its combination of exotic remotess accessibility and its relative accessibility compared to many other highland destinations. There is an established 4 day trek between Landmannalauger and Thorsmork to the west and there are “buses” that make the trip to both ends of the trek on a daily basis. While it is technically located in the highlands, Landmannlauger is also not nearly as bleek as some of Iceland’s highland areas, and features a hot spring set in a landscape of lava debris in an area that also has lots of green. Most visitors are there to hike. We could not tell if there was a particular preferred direction to make the hike; some of the hundred or so people camped there when we were there had just come off the trek from Thorsmork and some were just heading off in the other direction.
The approximately 4 hour drive in from the Ring Road coming from Vatnojokull did not disappoint. It took us through a changing landscape that featured rocky outcrops and enough river crossings that I finally felt the investment in the snorkel was worth it.
We did not take enough photos of this beautiful stretch of highland road in so I, with credit where credit is due, I am going to use a video taken by another F208 user who captured the experience very nicely. It is a bit long, the latter half contains the more interesting country. Our weather was much better than depicted in this video.
At Landmannlauger itself we had to confront one of the more challenging stretches of the trip because it is preceded by a ford that can be relatively deep. Many visitors who drive themselves in prefer to avoid crossing and bypass it on foot via a footbridge. Just a hundred meters later, the campsite is the starting point for many hikes, to admire the mountains that dominate the site.
The campsite featured a large open camping area with couple of simple structures to provide showers and a covered eating areas and a more finished building contained dormitory facilities.
Upon checking in to pay for camping we were issued wrist bands just like the ones one gets at all-inclusive resorts in the Caribbean, but there was no free bar and indeed not very much in the way of facilities. The way it was managed reminded Stephen of refugee camps he had seen in Ethiopia; one could not use the bathrooms or enter the shower area unless you had one of those wrist bands. It was striking how all movements were controlled and managed. Icelanders are not the most welcoming of people.
And of course, Landmannlauger has a hot spring that feeds a natural pool, and we made the most of it. We were there in the early evening and there were only a few of us in there. I had a conversation with an English couple that owned horses at home and had spend some time riding the Icelandic horses. I learned that Icelandic horses are unique in many ways. The relatively small size is a feature I knew about, but apparently they also have a step that no other horses have. We spent a most pleasant quiet hour in the pool, and were pleases with our timing when later we were woken up in our tents by the crowd of late-arriving hikers that had descended s there towards midnight when it was dark.
In the morning when I climbed down from the tent Stephen was nowhere to be seen and it was an hour before he returned from a hike along the trail to Thorsmork. After a slow breakfast we hit the road, continuing along the F208 going west, with no real idea of what our destination was . That is actually a wonderful feeling, being in a strange place not sure where you are or where you are going. We had a very pleasant drive coming down from the highlands via the scenic F225, which leads into the bottom (western) end of the F26 cross highland route (the long one that Maurice and I had eschewed in favour of the shorter F 88 for our south-north highland crossing 3 weeks earlier. Shortly after Stephen and I joined it became the paved 26, which meandered through fields and sheep farms.
From the eastern Fjords Route 1 meanders along the southern coast through rather undistinctive terrain. For Stephen and I coming from the east one of the most notable features approaching Vatnajokull was a vast flat area along the coast, a creation of successive floods caused by sub-glacial volcanos that have erupted and sent acres of scree tothe coast in the rushing melt-water. The R1 route was very flat through the eastern approaches to the glacier.
The vast majority of the glacier is in the highlands extending north from the coast, but it does descend almost to the ocean at a couple of points. At Jökulsárlón there is a glacial lagoon that has been growing for a few decades as the result of glacial melting. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J%C3%B6kuls%C3%A1rl%C3%B3n Our stop there was rendered brief by a cold, driving rainstorm but we were able to get a couple of pictures at least.
The Park’s main visitor centre and campground is at Skaftafell. TheBy the time we got there the weather was better and we were able to do a short trail up to the glacier itself.
We opted not to stay at the Skaftafell campground because it was, as we had expected, quite crowded. Instead we continued west to a private, very well-run campground. There we met a Brit in a Defender that had come down from Landmannlauger, the highland hiking area which was our next destination. He made a very enthusiastic recommendation of an F-Road going in to Landmannlauger, the F-208. He said it was bad but nothing a Defender could not handle. This proved to be one of the nicest overland routes I did in Iceland (not the nicest – that distinction belongs to the Thorsmork that I did later). Landmannlauger is the subject of the next post.
From Eglisstadir we headed south to an area known for the long finger like penninsulas that create deep fjords. With the exception of one recently-created short-cut the R1 route follows the ocean in and out of each fjord. Lots of distance, but the landscape is fantastically beautiful. More mountainous and rockier than the north, with scree littering the steep slopes. I told Stephen he and I should agree not to show any of our photos to Maurice. For this leg of the trip the weather was also very good. A bit cool but sunny enough that the colour of the green moss landscape really shone through.
The campground was not spectacular, just a soggy field surrounded by a few bushes, but the location up from the fjord was lovely, and they had a cozy bar in one of the buildings on site. We cooked our own dinner and then retreated to the bar for a nightcap. The spot next to us in the camping field was occupied by a small camper truck that had been rented by 3 Australian women – Stephen and I could not at all figure out how the three of them all fit to sleep inside the camper. They were travelling in the opposite direction than we were and were able to foreshadow the Vatnojokull glacier that lay ahead of us, complete with stories of how they had taken some ice to use in their vodka.
After Maurice flew out of Akureyri to return to Canada on August 10 I had a couple of days on my own before I had to be in Eglisstadir, Icelands eastern provincial centre, to pick up my friend Stephen at the airport there. Before I headed east I had some time to visit a couple of museums in Akureyri and to participate in the Dalvik fish festival (described here ).
En route I came across the access point to the F88 highland road https://www.dangerousroads.org/europe/iceland/570-askja-road-iceland.html that leads, after some 100 long and rough kilometres, to within hiking distance to the Askja volcano, one of Icelands outstanding features. I was alone so could not contemplate doing that trip even if I had had the 2 or 3 days I would have needed to do the trip. All the same I could not resist as least having a look and spent an hour or two until I was convinced that it was indeed very rough – lava field washboard/corduroy rough. But even with that, and even being alone, with no time, it was really hard to turn around. There was something about that stark landscape with the volcano visible on the horizon that was very seductive.
I got back on the Route 1 and continued my descent to Eglisstadir in the east, following quite a lovely valley lined with smalll waterfalls. Eglisstadir is a small city a few miles inland from the coast and has a small airport where I was to collect my friend Stephen early the next afternoon. I did not spend too much time there, but headed south in search of Hallormsstadur Forestry Reserve. Forests are definitely NOT a defining feature of Iceland, but this one was quite impressive. http://www.visitegilsstadir.is/en/things-to-see/hallormsstadur-national- I stayed in Atlavik campground, in a beautiful tree bound site near the shores of Lake Lagarfljot. The weather was warm, bright and beautiful…..I wish I had thought to take some pictures to prove it.
Stephen was due in early afternoon the next day and in the morning I got up early enough for a good 3 hour hike up to a viewpoint looking down on the lake before driving back up the lake to Eglisstadir. I was rather expecting Stephen to be tired because he had flown overnight from Canada before connecting to the domestic Reykjavik-Eglisstadir flight. I scouted out a hotel I could take him to and was rather looking forward to a good nap myself, but to my surprise he arrived ready to rumble. On his suggestion we drove out to Seyðisfjörður, a port located in a fjord which required driving over a high headland where fog and rain were thick.
Seyðisfjörður is where a weekly ferry lands from Denmark via the Faroe Islands and is where many Europeans with their own vehicle come in, so there were lots of Defenders and other 4x4s around that had explored Iceland and were waiting to board the ferry the next day. Seyðisfjörður is also where the dark Icelandic film ‘Trapped’ was set, and the ferry plays a central role.
Stephen and I had tea in a charming little shop before we headed back up the road to Eglisstadir. Stephen liked the idea of the forest so we went back up the lake to the Atlavik campground where I had spend the previous night. The weather was great and we enoyed a restful night getting ready for the next leg of the journey: the eastern fjords
Aspyrgi is a national park located in northern Iceland east of Lake Myvatn. It is actually the northern section of Vatnajökull National Park that runs from the glacier of the same name in the south almost all the way across the country. It is also the location of Dettifoss waterfall, the most powerful in Europe.
From Dettifoss we continued north to to find the campground in Aspyrgi Park. This one was lovely, much more reminiscent of Canadian campgrounds with lots of trees. It was as natural and uncrowded as any campground I had been in Iceland to that point (although later in the trip I visited others that were also very good). We arrived at the end of a long holdiday weekend and there were were lots of Icelandic families about. It was still staying light until close to midnight at that point and and we fell asleep listening to the sounds of children cavourting on the play structures well into the night. We decided to stay in Aspyrgi a second night to be able to enjoy some hiking in the area. When we returned to the campground the second night after our hike there were two significant changes: there were few other campers as the weekend was over and all the Icelanders had gone back to work; and the weather had taken quite a turn for the worst, with temperatures near 5 deg. Cel. and lots of wind and rain.
This was a really tough point in the trip, we were completely bowed by the cold, wet weather.
the morning of our second day at Aspyrgi was miserable. It had rained all night and it was still only about 5 degrees C. We both recognized we were at the end of our camping tether and that we would need to seek proper shelter. Everything we had was wet; fortunately the washroom building in the campground had an amazing “dryer” comprised of a big closet with a couple of blowers that circulated warm air through the multi-layered hanging system. We used that system, which I had never seen before, to dry not only our sleeping bags and clothes, but also the Eureka tent that Maurice was using.
After packing up we drove straight to Husavik, a town in a nearby bay known for great whalewatching. We went to the first hotel we could find only to learn that it was full, but the receptionist took pity on us (we were pretty pitiful at that point) and referred us to a friend who operated a guesthouse. It turned out to be a great spot. A large, quite recently constructed house with several sleeping rooms and a large, well-equipped shared kitchen. Maurice and I arrived mid-afternoon (it was still raining hard) before anyone else and had the run of the kitchen. We used just about every burner on the stove to create a wonderful dinner that featured a great lamb stew. After a couple of weeks of camping in occasionally very adverse conditions it was a luxury to enjoy ourselves out of the cold wind and rain. I really needed that. We were now approaching the end of Maurice’s explorations of Iceland, as he had to catch his plane out of Akureyri in a couple of days. On our way back to Akureyri we stopped at another incredible waterfall, Godafoss.
When we got to Akureyri the weather was still iffy enough and we were still not quite fully recovered from our last camping outing so we decided to pass on the campground and went to a real hotel. The Hotel Edda is an Icelandic chain of simple, yet very clean and comfortable dorm style accommodations that grew out of a practice that developed in Iceland in the 1950s of converting student dorms to summer accommodation for the then emerging domestic tourist industry. www.https://www.hoteledda.is/en/hotels/hotel-edda-akureyri Of course no sooner had we settled in and the weather immediately improved, which allowed us to spend our last free day before Maurice left drying out our gear, specifically the rooftop tent and mattress, and doing some small repairs on the Defender.
It was tough bidding farewell to Maurice, who had been there from the very beginning to help get everything organized and ready to go. Now I would be on my own for a few days as I continued to make my way east towards Eglisstadir to pick up Stephen, the next joiner.
Hraunhafnartangi is the northernmost point of the Iceland, at 66°32’03″N just 3 kilometres south of the Arctic Circle. To get there is not easy We had to take an ashphalt road to the end of long peninsula, and from there drive out along a long rocky breakwater to the lighthouse at the tip of the peninsula. This track was ideal territory for the Defender, which simply crawled along the rock in 4WD low. Upon arrival at the lighthouse we toasted the achievement with some Flor De Cana 12 year old.
From there we went looking for some waterfalls and found them in spades, including the largest waterfall in Europe. The next stage of our trip also came with some challenging weather, which required some alterations in our plans.
Our journey from Laugafell to Lake Myvatn involed a different route from the F821 we had used to come up from Sauodakrokur. Instead we jogged east to join the F26, which is the other, longer route that crosses the highlands that we had decided not to take during our first crossing where we had used the F35 Kolour route through Hreravellir. We were just picking it up at its northern end but at least we did that much. Turns out it was relatively easy, not nearly as challenging as the F821 had been when we came up.
The descent brought us into Lake Myvatn at a very decent hour, with lots of time to explore and stop for tea at a roadside cafe before looking for a campground.
Compared to the grey desolateness of Laugafell Myvatn was relatively tropical. Located at the northern end of the geothermal ridge that runs northeast – southwest across Iceland, the Krafla Volcanic field near Lake Myvatyn has a diverse range of active and idle volcanic craters.
One of the most characteristic features are the many lava ‘pillars’ that are found throughout the area, formed when by lava flows cooled by water. https://www.livescience.com/40318-lava-pillars-formed-in-iceland.html
But the best part of Myvatn was the “Nature Baths”, an absolute not-to-be-missed spot. Like the more famous Blue Lagoon near the national airport in Reykjavik, the Myvatn Nature Baths are not natural like many of the hot springs throughout the country, but rather consist of a large man-made pool. Several people we spoke to likened it to the more well-known Blue Lagoon near the airport in Reykjavik, except Myvatn is less expensive, less crowded, and more beautiful, offering a lovely view down the hillside toward the lake as you soaked. A feature we also took full advantage of was the ability to add beer to your ticket when you enter. You get a token (or 2 or 3) which you can wave at one of the attendants around the pool who then will bring you a cold one in a plastic mug. The afternoon we were there the sun was shining and it was a delightful experience. I did not think to take a photo, so am adding here a stock photo of the pool from the web.
Lake Myvatn was also the site of one of the more frustrating campgrounds we experienced in Iceland. Camping Myvatn was frustrating because it has a beautiful lakeside location, but the enjoyment of the site is severely limited by the way the owners manage it. It is run like a parking lot, in which the RV campers are required to line up so that no space is wasted and they can squeeze in as many campers as happen by on any given night.
I had parked at the end of a parking lot and opened the rooftop tent and erected the awning and table into an empty space beside us. The ‘monitor’ actually came by to ask me to keep to our space, which was a parking space with lines on either side. There ensued quite a battle between the monitor and us and some of the European camper owners in the vicinity, the monitor eventually retreated, but the incident took much of the pleasure out of the moment. The co-ed washrooms were also crowded and unpleasant, and if you wanted to wash dishes you had to do so at a line of sinks in the middle of a field with no protection from the elements. Stay away from Camping Myvatn! There are two or three other campgrounds just up the road.
Having leaned that lesson, a few days later after Maurice had flown out of Akureryi I transited back through Lake Myvatn, but instead of going to a campground I chose to camp rough up across a rock track in the middle of a lava field, quite hidden from the road. This was one the only occasion were I camped wild in Iceland.
From Myvatn, Mauric and I headed north for an excursion to the Arctic Circle. It was an challenging end to Maurice’s visit, and both man and vehicle were put through their paces.
Out of Saouerkrokur Maurice and I headed back south toward another highland hot spring at Laugafell, this time about 100 km up the F26. There is something lovely about the rolling green valleys that lead up from the coast.
As one ascends into the highlands the greenery transitions to rock, and the road becomes less passable……
As we gradually climbed the contrast between the green valleys and the stark, treeless landscape of the highland plateau became apparent, and we were warned once again about the quality of the route.
Laugafell itself was, like Hreravellir, just a couple of simple structures. And like Hreravellir, there was a lovely little hot pool maintained at about 102 F . To prevent visitors from getting boiled most of these ‘natural’ pools are maintained at a comfortable temperature by the discrete use of automatic temperature sensors and pipes to run in cool water as needed.
Typical of the highlands, it was very cold and windy. The tenting area was set in a spot that was particularly vulnerable to the elements, without benefit of any trees or cliffs that might offer a windbreak. Maurice opted to forego the tent and instead rent space in the simple hostel building. This proved to be a brilliant choice as he was the only resident that night and we had the simple kitchen all to ourselves to prepare and eat dinner. Like at Hreravellir, for my own sleeping arrangements I positioned the Defender in the lea of a building to protect the rooftop tent from the stiff wind and passed a most pleasant night.
At Laugafell we had a memorable hot tub incident. The pool was only about 2 feet deep, made using natural rocks and boulders with uneven surfaces, much of which was covered with slippery moss requiring some care in maneouvering. When Maurice and I first arrived at the pool there were some other soakers from Belgium and France who were drinking beer. I took their inspiration and went out to the Defender and poured Maurice and I some rum in the stainless steel winelasses. I had just re-entered the pool bearing the glasses and was crouched down in the water when my feet slipped on some moss and I rolled gently backwards. In a split second I was under the water with only the glasses and the toque I had been wearing above the water. Maurice reached out and grabbed the glasses, leaving me to save myself from drowning. No rum was lost.
During the night a young man came into the hostel where Maurice was sleeping and threw down his sleeping bag on the floor. He was apparently walking across the highlands. When Maurice woke up he was gone and we never saw him again. We had a lovely hot breakfast of eggs and toast and were back on the road toward Lake Myvatn by mid-morning.
Akureyri, the ‘Capital of the North’ and Iceland’s second largest city, is quite a pleasant spot to visit. The Hof Culture House (pictured above) is a theatre, gift shop and art gallery and the site of various events.
Set along the water at the head of a fjord, the town features some lovely residential streets and has a number of interesting museums, including separate museums devoted to Aviation, Industry, Toys, Motorcycles and Culture. I particularly enjoyed the latter, which provided a great overview of Icelandic residential architecture from its ‘functionalism’ roots.
Like in Reykjavik the campground was located right in town next door to the municipal pool. It was a bit crowded so we slipped over to the pool to check out it out. This was a large facility, with a large swimming pool and a number of smaller sitting pools of varying temperatures, even a steam bath. There were lounge chairs and although it was early evening the sun was still high enough to make it possible to enjoy some solar warmth. It was a family facililty with lots of things for kids, including a range of water slide options.
Our trip took us to Akreyri twice, the first time after Sauodokrokur and again about a week later when Maurice flew out. The second time we stayed in hotel, having endured some particularly inclement weather (see subsequent post on National Park and Dettifoss) . As soon as Maurice left the weather took a turn for the better and I was able to find a sweet campground out of town a bit past the airport, run by the Boy Scouts, which I thought particularly auspicious since I had just seen a museum display about the Boy Scouts in Iceland at the Culture Museum.
It wasat the reception here I learned that a number of people were coming to the region to attend the ‘Fish Festival’ (“it might be a bit crowded tonight” and it was). The festival was taking place the next day in Dalvik, about 30 km up the fjord north of Akureyri. Not one to pass up a local festival that is how I spent my first solo day in Iceland after Maurice left. As the late morning traffic along the two lane paved road along the fjord leading to Dalvik became bumper to bumper and slowed to a crawl 4 km short of the “village” I realized this was a big event and that parking was going to be a real issue. When I got within walking distance I just put the Defender in 4WD and pulled off the road into the ditch. No one seemed to mind, there were cars everywhere. As I walked the kilometre or so into town I could see that many people had decorated their properties for the occasion with a fish theme, and many had rented space to RVs, tightly squeezed into peoples yards.
There were thousands of people from all over Iceland with a few international tourists mixed in. As they reached the large open space of what appeared to be a fish plant people joined any one of a 1/2 dozen lines to get free helpings of arctic char and cod hot off the barbie. The lines got shorter as the day wore on and the fish kept coming – I ate more arctic char in that single day, all for free, than I have in my whole life.
After our first visit to Akureyri Maurice and I first headed back into the highlands