Mvyatn Hotel. Mvyatn – Part 2
I had no idea what to expect after we left Dimmuborgir. It seemed nothing could surpass the drama of those dark, foreboding chunks of lava but I was so wrong.
We stopped at a high viewpoint where we were able to look back across the valley to Mývatn, Dimmuborgir and the grey sides of Hverfjall. All around were the sterile, vibrant orange sides of the Namafjall Mountain.
The wind was fierce and bitingly cold so we didn’t linger. The road wound through the pass and soon opened up on the amazing Namafjall Hverir Geothermal Area.
It was one of the most incredible landscapes I’ve seen, filled with grey, boiling mud pits and steaming, hissing fumaroles. It took no time at all for everyone to vacate the bus and again, as I thought many times during this tour, I was grateful it was a small group tour and everyone was quick to disembark. One of my pet hates is having to sit at the back of a coach and wait while the people in front fiddle around gathering possessions before aiming for the door. Patience is sometimes not one of my virtues!
Trivia: A fumerole is a vent in the surface of the earth from which hot volcanic gases and vapours escape. The gases consist of steam and compounds of sulphur and hydrogen. The temperature of the gases range from 100°C to 1000°C.
Trivia: Bubbling, mud pools, or pots, are a type of hot spring or fumerole but with limited water. They are formed when acidic gasses interact with the surrounding rocks which are then decomposed into thick clay and mud.
The smell of Sulphur filled the air but no one cared or complained. You could hear the steam hissing out of the fumerole cones, the ground and rocks were tinged with yellow Sulphur and the mudpots which plopped and popped reminded me of a bowl of dark grey, boiling porridge.
The landscape’s uniqueness was captivating, highlighting the area’s ongoing activity; nearby Krafla’s last eruption occurred in 1984. Walking through the geothermal area made it clear that the earth is a potent, living entity.
As much as I was fascinated by the incredible colours of earth it was eventually time to move on and we made our way out of the geothermal area and through the deserted landscape of the northern Ring Road.
The land was quite flat, and in the hollows and channels between the lava, snow created icy puddles. Volcanic cones poked out of the landscape every now and then and in the far distance the Highlands gleamed on the horizon.
The colours of the icy “puddles” and streams ranged from pale aqua to creamy yellow, all set off by the dark rocks and white snow. I had never seen anything like it before and said a silent thank you that I’d made the decision to visit Iceland and in particular to take a tour. Looking at the expanse of lava and the desolation one can only imagine what it must have been like thousands of years ago when the land was in turmoil.
We turned left onto the road that would lead us to Dettifoss, said to be the most powerful waterfall in Europe, then into a carpark. Now it was time to walk! And somewhere in the photo on the right, between the ice and rocks is the path we were to take.
The snow which I’d admired greatly on previous occasions now became my enemy, a slippery, sliding hazard. The last thing I wanted to do on a holiday, in my seventies, was fall over. The path initially was easy to follow, but that didn’t last long. It wound through and around gaps in the rock, crossed tiny streams, most of it was covered with snow and slush and I have to say if it wasn’t for the generosity of some of the men on the tour I, and a few of the other older ladies, wouldn’t have made it.
At last the snow gave way and I was walking on solid rock. In the distance I could see a waterfall. I’d arrived! But time was short as some of our group had already begun the return journey. However, I did get close enough to take some lovely photos and had time to put the camera aside so I could absorb the beauty of my surroundings.
Elated, I started back, all the while trying my best not to slide into a heap onto the slushy path. Suddenly I noticed that everyone was veering off to the right. The ropes along the track indicated you could go right or left and I knew the trail back to the bus was to the left. To say I was confused was an understatement, we’d seen the waterfall so where were they heading? Someone said there was another waterfall so like a sheep I decided to follow!
It was tough going! My 73yr old legs were tired but several of the young men from Puerto Rico encouraged me. They stuck by me the whole way, pulled me out of holes when my legs disappeared knee deep into the snow, they held my hand as I negotiated the slippery rocks and gave me more encouragement when I wondered what the hell I was doing there. As I type I think about those young men with tears in my eyes, they were so generous and kind to (I hesitate to admit) an old lady and at no time did they look at me with impatience or distain. They could’ve left me to my own devices whereupon I would’ve probably still been stuck in one of those holes when the winter snows arrived, but they didn’t.
Eventually I came to a waterfall – Dettifoss. I thought the other waterfall was Dettifoss, but not so, it was Selfoss. Dettifoss is magnificent! There’s no other word for it and was definitely worth the effort I made to get there.
It was a photographer’s dream, but it eventually it dawned on me that I had to return. Would that I had wings! I felt I couldn’t put the guys out anymore so I determined to go it alone. If I left before them they could pick me up if I fell in a hole. A short way along the track I was able to gather up one of the red and white sticks which lined the track. Actually, if I’m being honest it wasn’t lying on the track it was still in the ground but had a definite lean to it, however, it didn’t take much to yank it out of the ground and using it for support I was able to negotiate my way back to the bus on my own. Once again I’d left my walking pole in my suitcase, just when I needed it most.
I sank back on my seat in the bus with relief. It was the longest, and hardest 5km I’ve ever done. I was exhausted, and all this took place before lunch!
There’s only one place to stop to eat between Myvatn and Egilsstadir, and that’s at Beitarhusid. Situated on the turn off to the 901 at Modrudalsleid it has the most delicious lamb soup. And boy, was it welcome after a very full, cold morning!
The road to Egilsstadir passed through a landscape which was deserted and barren. No trees or bushes, no grass or wildlife that I could see, it was just barren. Maybe in summer it turns green but the only colours in mid-April were the dark grey of the lava and the white snow which was lying in the hollows. Again, icy puddles showed pale aqua and a creamy yellow, but it was devoid of any habitation. Which, to me made it all the more appealing. No, more than appealing, it was fascinating and totally awe-inspiring.
Just when I thought we were finished for the day we reached Rjukandafoss. Another waterfall – where the River Ysti-Rjudandi rushes 139m over the cliffs into the valley below on its way south. It is one of the few major waterfalls in the north of Iceland which can be seen directly from the Ring Road. A steep, but short path ran alongside the river to a viewing point and as usual I huffed and puffed my way up to it. I noted that younger legs than mine negotiated the path with ease!
At last we arrived at Egilsstadir where our accommodation waited. The room in the Herad-Berjay Hotel was modern, bright and roomy.
A line of shops across the street to the rear held no fascination for me at all, I was too tired to even think of shopping but did have a win at dinner. One of my dinner companions from the previous evening, the one whose husband suggested we split the bill, had a birthday so he generously paid for the meal to celebrate. I didn’t argue at his kind gesture!
It was a day full of the wonders of Iceland, from dark, jagged sentinels of lava to steaming, hissing cones and popping mud pools, from magnificent, powerful waterfalls and eventually to a desolate landscape of icy pools lying in the dark plains of lava. It was a day to remember, always!
Continue to » Iceland Tour, Day 5
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