My Scandinavian Adventure: Iceland—The Ring Road

Day 7: Lake Mývatn to Lake Lagarfljót 189 km
Day 8: Lake Lagarfljót to Höfn 178 km

Day 7 was a bit of a sad day. We had to say good-bye to Wisdomie and Wisdil. After a lovely meal of Italian food, we dropped them off at the regional airport at Egilsstaðir. They needed to fly back to Honolulu for the beginning of the semester. When they came to Iceland last year on their honeymoon, they arrived near here by ferry and took the Ring Road south. So this represented a full circle for them. Wisdoc, Wesdom, and I set out from here to complete the circuit for ourselves.

Lake Lagarfljót is a long, deep, ancient lake reminiscent of Loch Ness. And like the latter, it has its own legend: the Lake Lagarfljót worm. Google it. We had a quiet campsite here, quite remote. No shower. No worm.

From here we headed through the East Fjords area down to the quaint seaside town of Höfn. Höfn is situated near the largest glacier on the island Vatnajökull. The weather improved and was beautiful the rest of the way.

En route through the East Fjords, the three of us randomly picked a spot beside the road and decided to hike. The mountains are fairly barren, so if you can see up a hill you can climb until you come to an uncrossable stream or a cliff or a canyon. It's kind of exciting to pick your way around cuts and over mounds. The East Fjords are less compact than those in the west but on a different scale and no less beautiful.

We also stopped at a small village called Djúpivogur where a local artist has installed an exhibition of 34 large granite eggs lining the bay—Merry Bay, it's called. Each egg is differently shaped and represents a different bird that nests in Iceland.

Click pics to embiggen!

A caravanserai that advertises coffee and cake. It's some lady's house. Note the bicycle—the one on the left. We spoke with several Italian dudes biking around the Ring Road and a Hawaiian woman driving it alone. They were all going the opposite direction from us. We exchanged campground and road condition and site-seeing notes. Convivial. Archetypal.

Campsite by lovely Lake Lagarfljót. We did not see the worm. It's around 9:00 pm and the sky is clearing.

[Scene: Some random spot on the Ring Road in the East Fjords.] "Hey, guys. This looks like a good place for a hike. C'mon, let's go!"

Wisdoc and Wesdom setting out. "Which way should we go?"

It's a beautiful day. Bet the views from up there are pretty good.

Gonna' have to navigate around this cut and the waterfalls.

*Gasp*

"Hey Dad! Take a picture of us up here!"

"How's this?"

Fjords fjor djays.

The van is way down there near the farmhouse somewhere. People don't mind you hiking their land so long as you don't litter or disturb the sheep. The view never gets old.

Rectangular Sea Arch! Wow! Very Rare.

Random roadside view. Typical.

Ditto.

Forgot the name of this adorable town where we stopped for sandwiches.

The granite eggs installation on Merry Bay in Djúpivogur.

The sweet campsite at Höfn. Large. Hot showers. Immaculate toilets. Laundry!

Höfn

The harbor at Höfn.

Höfn in the shadow of Vatnajökull National Park—the massive glaciated volcano. And that's where we're headed, around the bay and along the foot of those mountains, tomorrow.

My Scandinavian Adventure: Iceland—The Ring Road

Days 5-6: Lake Mývatn

I mentioned the crusty cod fisherman we met at dinner. One key bit of info he gave us was that we should plan to stay at Lake Mývatn at least two nights. It's where Icelanders like to go camping when they're on holiday. And that was good enough for me.

Lake Mývatn is in the north central part of Iceland on the Ring Road. As promised, there was tons of cool stuff to do. Our two days there were the worst weather days of the trip. But, as our cod fisherman said, there really is no bad weather in Iceland as long as you dress for it. He then spoke about a cousin who lives in Arizona who has no natural way to deal with the 110º F. temperature. Point taken. We all had rain gear. I was the only one who didn't actually have a pair of rain pants, so my legs got damp when we hiked at Dettifoss. But, big deal.

The campsite bustled. You could hear a Babel of languages when you walked through the common indoor area, though everyone spoke English as a second language. Tons of millennial campers enjoying each other's company, sharing road stories and camping technologies. We climbed a 2000 ft barren, lava cone mountain—Vindbergjarfjall; walked through the sulfurous hot springs at Hverir; hiked and got lost in the mazey paths through the lava structures at Dimmuborgir; hiked the one kilometer path along the canyon ledge between the two magnificent waterfalls, Dettifoss (yes, I know) and Selfoss; and luxuriated in a giant Hot Spot, a geothermally heated natural bath maybe ten times the size of an Olympic swimming pool, which had a bar and on the night we were there was filled with Russian supermodels in ridiculously tiny bathing suits—I kid you not! Wisdoc kept grabbing my arm and saying, "I'm over here. I'm over here." Sorry, no pics. We stayed till the baths closed around midnight. The air was cool, but not cold. The twilight lingered for hours over the distant mountains. The temperature in the pool varied from warm to pleasingly hot depending on where you chose to stand. The scene here was better—younger, hipper, more interesting—than at the more famous "Blue Lagoon" near the airport (which we also visited).

The second night we were there, the weather cleared up. As the twilight waned, around 10:30 pm, we saw the first glimmers of the Northern Lights in the sky, but we were so tired from the day's activities that we couldn't stay up until it got completely dark. (I did see the Northern Lights in glorious fullness on my night flight from Minneapolis to Reykjavik, FYI.)

Click pics to embiggen!

The idyllic campground at Lake Mývatn. Lava fields, lake, church, clouds.

Climbing the switchbacks up Mt. Vindbergjarfjall. "Hey guys! Wait for me! I'm old." "Stop taking so many pictures and catch up, old man." I get no respect.

The gang at the top of Mt. Vindbergjarfjall. We are the only ones up here.

Pano from the top of Mt. Vindbergjarfjall.

Stinky sulfurous paths at Hverir.

The earth is alive. Hverir.

Lava chimney. Hverir.

The damp, slippery approach to Dettifoss Falls.

Dettifoss Falls, reputedly the most powerful waterfall in Europe. Also, the location of the opening shot from the movie Prometheus.

Selfoss Waterfall in the distance.

Silly Icelandic troll photobombing the hike from Dettifoss to Selfoss. Or, Selfie at Selfoss?

The 1 km trail between Dettifoss and Selfoss. I've told you: You want to hike with me. An almost mystical experience. Most of the tourists at the falls didn't venture away from the paved paths.

Looking down on one of the paths through the lava fields at Dimmuborgir. And yes I know of the Norwegian black metal band which took its name from this place. We head banged on the drive away.

Standing in a lava tube at Dimmuborgir. You wouldn't know it, but I was separated from the group and a little lost here. It took me about an hour to find my way out. Ran into some college kids who were lost as well, except they were through-hiking. (NB: I've scuba dived through lava tubes in Hawai'i as well!)