Iceland pics

I took 358 photos in Iceland, but I'll limit myself to just a few to show you here... you had to be there to get the whole impression anyway.

Resting between two tectonic plates in Thingvellir National Park.

My birthday card looked suspiciously unsuspicious and was opened by Icelandic customs. It made it in time anyway.

Pretty basalt.

My host in Stykkisholmur, performing Icelandic folk music.

My host took me on a day-trip on the Snaefellsnes peninsula, took some touristy pics of me.

Stykkishomur harbor at sunset.

Stykkisholmur lighthouse.

Stykkisholmur harbor.

Stykkisholmur

More basalt.

Beer on the patio of the KEX hostel in Reykjavik.

Catch of the day.

The purple thingies were edible, too, but I just tried the mussels.

In the old times, these were used as wicks (Dochte) for oil lamps. Now, they are just pretty.

Our walking trip: from Landmannalaugar (bottom left) to Langidalur (top right) hut in the Thorsmörk, and then over the Fimmvörduhals pass.

Description of the first day's walk.

Sunset in Landmannalaugar, our starting point.

We had to camp the first night, because the hut was all booked out.

Soooo pretty!!

First stop, Hraftinnusker hut. Snow fields and steam from thermal springs to the left.

More pretty.

I believe this was after a tough climb.

Pretty in green.

Eerie.

Loved the green mountains next to the black, beach-like desert sand (volcano ashes?).

Third stop, Botnar hut in Emstrur. They had a shower (one).

Our dinner.

Fourth and last leg of the walk before a rest day and the Fimmvörduhals pass.

Vertigo, anyone?

Thorsmörk was pretty at sunset. During the day, too. I spent the rest day sitting in the sun.

Fimmvörduhals pass. We would go up, stay there over night in a hut, and go down on the other side to Skogar the next day.

This says we would have to go 850 m up.

Another sunset (I know, getting boring).

Arctic fox babies who had lost their mum and were fed by the hut wardens. Cuties.

Still smoking hot lava stream of the 2010 Eyjafjalljökull eruption.

One of the two mountains that were formed by the Eyjafjallajökull eruption in 2010. A walk through smoking lava. Apparently, on top of that hill you could lift small rocks and feel the heat.

Smoking lava and glaciers in the background.

Daniel and Silke walking over smoking lava.

The yellow stiles mark our trail.

Cool snowfield. Also, there used to be a lake here which had disappeared (?).

Hut on top of Fimmvörduhals pass. The warden had left the day we arrived. Water had to be made from melted and filtered snow. No biggie, expect that it would have been nice to be able to wash your hands after using the toilet...

The toilet. No pee in the toilets, everyone use the pissoir.

Walk down on the other side. Many many waterfalls.

Arrival at Skogar, hanging out in front of a ridiculously rainbowy waterfall named Skogarfoss.

After the walk: Relaxing on Heimaey, the main Westman Island, watching puffins.

I took about 150 puffin pics, I think.

The end.

Crossing rivers in Iceland's highlands

We had to cross a bunch of rivers, and in the absence of bridges driving through was one way to do it. Next to the ford in the following pictures is a hut which has a large collection of photos picturing failed river crossings by car - very educational. This bus and many others made it through safely though. Here, it was not recommended to cross the river on foot, but some people tried it nonetheless. We went by tractor.

Buses cross rivers all the time, sometimes going as deep as the tires are high.

On other occasions, though, there was no ford or street anywhere nearby and we had to cross on foot. This was actually very nice for many reasons:

It was thrilling, especially the first time. The water was fast and dirty, the ground rocky of varying depth. The worst that could happen was stumbling and falling into the water, getting oneself and one's gear soaked while still having a large part of that day's walk in front of one. Less serious but still annoying would be losing a shoe. Or a flip-flop in my case. Having seen a quickly disappearing Adilette (Adidas slipper) I made sure this wouldn't happen to me.

Better safe than sorry, or Everything's better with tape.

Also, it was fricking cold. Especially the one quite wide river coming directly from a glacier. I had to force myself to go slowly as to not lose my footing or flip-flops, even though my feet screamed "run" at me from pain, as did I once I successfully arrived at the other side. Quite funny when a minute later a car crossed the same ford and gave some other hikers a lift over the river. But. After a river crossing on foot the feet are nicely refreshed and due to the increased circulation so hot that they dry very quickly on their own.

Furthermore, whenever a river has to be crossed, you need to take some time and prepare. Take off your boots, socks and pants (trousers for you Brits), find your river crossing footwear, decide whether or not to use the walking sticks for more balance, and if not, store them away. Secure camera, phone etc. as to keep them dry in the worst case scenario. Loosen backpack straps. Find best spot to cross. Since all these things take a while you meet other hikers at river crossings. People getting prepared, or people getting dressed again on the other side. They help each other, point to crossing spots that worked for them, and of course watch each other to see how deep it is going to be. It's a bonding experience, and really good fun.

And lastly, you can tell all your friends that you had to walk through rapid glacial rivers in Iceland!

Daniel crossing a river.

English girl helping me out. Photo taken by Daniel K.

This one was the deepest and scariest. Photo taken by Daniel K.

I made it anyway. Photo taken by Daniel K.

Map of Laugavegur hiking trail in Iceland

Click on the little beds to read more.


Maike's Big Trip 2012 auf einer größeren Karte anzeigen

Walking the Laugavegur in Iceland's south

Showing up high in the international hiking trail charts is the 55 km long Laugavegur trail which connects Landmannalaugar in the volcanic highlands of south Iceland with the green valley of Thorsmörk, the latter being only separated from the south coast by two glaciers, among them the famous Eyjafjallajökull which erupted two years ago.

We did the Laugavegur trail and added two days of hiking by climbing up the Fimmvörduhals pass between the two glaciers, walking on snow fields and the fresh lava which is still hot in some places.

It's hard to describe the beauty and diversity of the volcanic landscapes, the black sand deserts, but I'll surely put up some pics here once I have computer access.

Accompanying me were Daniel and Silke, and to be honest, it was Daniel who organized the whole hiking trip. Afterwards, we spent a day on Heimæy, the main Westman's island, for a great seafood dinner, Icelandic pastries, puffin (Papageientaucher) watching and just general relaxing.

My personal highlights of these past days:

A) The river crossings - thrilling, freezing cold, and refreshing for tired feet.
B) Lying on our bellies on the highest rock on Heimæy, the Heimaklettur, watching puffins landing and taking off from very close. Puffins' bodies looking like miniature penguins with almost too short wings and fat bum for flying, too cute.
C) Lying on the grass in the sun for a few hours, heads on our backpacks, in front of the huge Skógarfoss waterfall, after having finished the last one of 6 walking days, dirty and happy.

Volcanoes, Snæfellsnes, Ben Stiller

On a whim, I moved to Stykkishólmur when I couldn't sleep in Reykjavik. I slept great in Stykkishólmur. Such silence!

My host picked me up from the gas station where the bus had dropped me off. He is an original Icelander, born on Heimaey, the main island of the Westman's Islands, south of mainland Iceland. When he was 14, one night at 2 am, a neighbor knocked on his family's door to wake everyone up because a volcano was erupting just a stone's throw away from the first houses of the village. All they could see when they left the house was a wall of fire coming straight from the grass. It turned out that a long crack in the ground had opened and was now spitting fire. Later, there was lava, flowing towards the harbor, and a new mountain, higher than the old mountain formed. People didn't panic, because they were used to volcanic action. In fact, there had been a volcanic eruption under water in viewing distance from Heimaey only a few years earlier, going on for three years and resulting in a new island. My host said that the eruption in his village was like a dream and only four days later could he really grasp what had happened.

Luckily, the eruption started at night, when all boats were in the harbor and everyone could be evacuated from the island in time, apart from one person who died of the poisonous gases of the volcano. Weeks later, people could finally return to their island and start to rebuild their village which was half gone, either burnt under the lava or buried under the ashes. Only half of the population did return, though, the rest started new lives somewhere else on Iceland.

My host's family moved to Stykkishólmur where they had relatives, and I believe that my host has never lived anywhere else. He said that it is like he had two lives. One before that night and one after. In one night he lost contact with most of his friends, and didn't see them ever again.

Now, he owns an old blue farmer's house and rents out a few rooms. I was the only guest and got to choose the best room. It had a view out to the bay, similar to the view in the picture, which was taken from the garden next to the house. He likes to meet his guests and see Iceland with their eyes, because it isn't that special to you if you have lived there all your live.

He took me on a day trip around the Snæfellsnes peninsula, dropped me off at one point where I wanted to hike a bit along the cliffs, and met me a few miles later, in a restaurant where he, an accomplished guitar player, performed a few Icelandic folk songs. It was too cloudy and too little time to climb the glacier, but I ended up getting a guided tour with whale watching and a very personal touch tailored to my pace and preferences for free.

When we were almost back we saw a helicopter about to land, so we did a U-turn, drove up to the tiny airport and checked if it was Ben Stiller getting out of the heli, because apparently that's how he had done it there quite recently. I was deeply embarrassed when the passengers got out and walked towards the little bus parked next to us, but my host was not. He asked the bus driver, but he didn't want to give a straight answer. One of the passengers had dark, wavy hair and I firmly (want to) believe that it was Ben Stiller with his family.

Iceland, consumerism, sleep deprivation

It's high time I report about my trip to Iceland. I'm still here, but I increasingly find myself creating blog posts in my mind so I might as well write them down.

I arrived at Keflavik airport at dawn, around 1 am. The sunrise was beautifully reddish, pink and orange, with the bay of Reykjavik and mountains and volcanos in the background. Dawn seemed to last forever, but after a few hours unchanged beauty I realized that this is what night is like in Iceland in summer. D'oh.

I can't believe that I still haven't checked out the phallological museum Kat pointed me to. However, people who know me (or have travelled with me) will probably very well believe that I haven't set my foot into a museum yet.

Instead, I visited all the outdoor clothing stores I could find on the main shopping street, which were about five. The last one looked most promising for me to ask (with a red head from embarrassment) for a marine flare, that Daniel asked me to get in case volcano Katla erupts while we're walking in the area next week and we need to signal our position to the helicopters that come looking for us.

The staff didn't laugh at me but seemed to take me seriously, even said it was a good idea, and pointed me to the one store in Reykjavik where I could actually buy such a thing. (Apparently, you're not allowed to bring marine flares on a plane. Maybe I can borrow one and return it to the shop in case we don't need it.)

Aside from browsing through outdoor clothing stores I'm rather sick of yet another city. After having spent a whole week in Göteborg I didn't enjoy Reykjavik too much for two reasons. One is that in cities I tend to mindlessly spend money. I often find myself in a shop browsing through clothes that I suddenly think I really need. Even though I don't. And it often takes me to actually try clothes on until I realize how miserable clothes shopping makes me. Especially in big department stores. In Stockholm I thought that I couldn't live (and travel) without mid-length sports pants. In Glasgow, I spent hours to find a lint shaver to make my fleece look a bit nicer! In Göteborg I desperately wanted shorts to wear with all my new pretty tights. (I ended up buying a pair for 3€ in a second hand shop which isn't too bad.) The shopping experience makes me miserable (and feeling guilty if I end up buying stuff from a big international corporation), and I waste money for more stuff that I'll have to carry - the garment must be REALLY pretty and functional in order to make the purchase worth all that. I already made a longish list of things I'll leave at home when I stop by there in September before I'll head to Australia.

Also, walking through a city, whenever I think my feet are tired (every other hour or so), even though they are not really, I look for a coffee shop. There are days when I pay for coffee three times, even though I could make myself a cup for so much cheaper at the hostel. Thinking about it, this is probably part of the reason why I sleep so poorly in Iceland...

And this ties in smoothly with the second reason why I want to flee the city which is what I am actually doing right now, sitting on a bus to the Snæfellsnes peninsula. I don't sleep well in my hostel. It's a great hostel for young people I think. Very hip, a live music venue, a former cookie factory, stylish loft-like interior. But it is so loud. All the dorm windows open to the outdoor patio where people get drunk all night. Doors open and close very noisily. One of my dorm mates snores badly. And there's never an hour during the whole day where it is actually quiet. I have slept fine in other hostel dorms with up to 14 beds. And even at Herräng dance camp with 40 other people in a room no earplugs were necessary.

But the noise all day long in Reykjavik and ALL THOSE PEOPLE (other tourists) have been making me more and more sensitive, so that I eventually booked a private room in the little village Stykkishólmur from where I can explore the Snæfellsnes peninsula and maybe even climb the Snæfellsjökull glacier. And here's a fun fact since I take the educational mandate of my blog as seriously as all the fun and entertainment: "jökull" means glacier so "Snæfellsjökull glacier" is technically saying the same thing twice.

My host in Stykkishólmur on Snæfellsnes will be Heimur who owns an old farm house with great views and rents out the rooms on the second floor. He offered to pick me up from the bus stop. Also, on his Airbnb (a website where you can rent rooms) profile he states that his guests will be able to join him on the first floor and socialize as much as they like. He's a musician and might give you a private concert. In his garden live elves/pixies/fairies - forgot which one, also don't really know the difference, but I'm sure he'll explain. So I might finally meet a real local today, the first one so far, not counting the bus drivers.

And yes, I'm turning 31 next week and I'm finding myself fleeing the city, the noise and consumerism.

My trust in bus drivers

There are trustworthy groups of people, or professions, in all cultures, depending on their history, but also on personal experience. For some, these are police officers or firemen, or teachers, or monks, or elderly ladies. Fathers of little children seem trustworthy.

I trust bus drivers. I am not sure why that is considering that one of my first experiences with a bus driver wasn't a positive one. I was in elementary school when the driver of the school bus, Herr Müller, got so tired of me and my pal Henrik throwing pieces of paper at each other in his bus, that he grabbed Henrik by his left ear and dragged him by the ear to the front seat, and hit me, who was sitting in the front already, on my hands with a little stick to make us stop littering. It didn't really hurt - at least not me, and Henrik wouldn't admit it - but I was deeply embarrassed even though I tried to play it down by joking around.

But in hindsight I think I deserved it and I am sorry that I made Herrn Müller lose his cool. Maybe this anecdote made bus drivers even trustworthier in my eyes, who knows.

I do not trust taxi drivers as much, and not just because they are not always the most reasonable or friendly people. Once, a Berlin taxi driver, when I asked him to close the window because the draught messed with my hairdo, looked at my hair and said that a bunch of bobby pins didn't make a hairdo. Admittedly, that is my favorite offense by a taxi driver. On the other hand, I also had an extremely fun taxi ride in London, where the driver, a Scot, sang to me. But usually when I enter a taxi I am always worried to be identified as a tourist and accordingly get ripped off. Though, when I think about it, that only ever happened once in my life.

But back to the bus drivers. I trust them not to rip me off, and to take me safely and as quickly as traffic allows from A to B. Yesterday however, this faith got shaken, when my bus stopped in the middle of nowhere in Iceland and people who wanted to go to Stykkishólmur had to get out. I wanted to go to Stykkishólmur, but this came as a surprise. There was no sign of houses or a regular bus stop. Also, the schedule did not indicate a change of buses. From the other direction came a smaller bus, however, that picked me and a fellow passenger, who looked as confused as I was, up, and we continued our ride to Stykkishólmur. Faith restored.

Goodbye Göteborg, ...

...city of Bruce and Beachboys fevers, choklatbols, blonde and tanned healthy-looking Swedes, awesome secondhand shops, great lindy hop scene, home to the shoe store that sold me THE PRETTIEST Italian shoes fit for dancing and dolling up for 50% off!

Hello, Reykjavik, what do YOU have to offer? Fairies? Geysers? Volcanos? Free wifi on the airport bus? Funny money? A penis museum?