I had always planned to do a second blog article for Iceland, but with the start of graduate school, a cranky old computer, and winter settling in it got lost in the jumble and then ultimately forgotten. Well, forgotten by all but my husband who has been pestering me to update my blag for the past few months at the threat of buying me a new computer. Now that's love.
On New Year's Day, almost everything closes down in Iceland. It makes sense as everyone is up so late the night before putting on the world's most spectacular fireworks display. Being the intrepid young people we are, we decided, wisely, to rent a car and go off into the wilderness to do some sightseeing. With nothing but barely there daylight, snow, and the open road before us, we set off headfirst into the Icelandic countryside.
If you are traveling along the main road in Iceland, you automatically pass a number of famous sites, including waterfalls, viewing points, and long, long trails that lead to crashed planes (more on that later). These sights are breathtaking in the winter, and you probably won't be competing with as many people to see them (although New Year's day was certainly busier than I would imagine the rest of the winter would be. The one thing to keep in mind: almost all restaurants are closed. We happened to find a Domino's that was open. An excited tourist thanked the young woman behind the counter profusely, saying, "We are so glad we found you! Everywhere else is closed!" To which the young woman, with a look of the purist form of teenage boredom and regret, simply replied, "Yah." Another 50's style drive in restaurant we found was open...kind of. We stepped up to the counter, to greet a friendly faced youth who was chuckling, only for him to tell us we had to go, he had ACCIDENTALLY opened the restaurant, and no one was supposed to be working at all. Long story short, if you decide to go out on New Year's Day, pack a lunch.
However, the waterfalls are gorgeous, especially in the winter. Approaching them can be treacherous as the mist from the falls freezes to the earth only to be coated with another thin layer of water. To say the walkways are slippery would be an understatement, but the process formed the most beautiful layers of ice on top of the plants.
My favorite stop, by far, was Seljavallalaug. We drove a mile off the main road, parked the car, and with bathing suits under our clothing and snow boots tied firmly, we plunged into a valley leading seemingly nowhere. What would probably most frequently be a small stream was fed by melting rainwater, making it too deep to cross in most areas if we wanted to keep our boots dry and warm. After finding a precarious position higher up the mountain on which we could leap across a couple of ice blocks, we hiked further into the valley, hoping we had indeed found the right place. On the way there, we were completely alone.
But Seljavallalaug isn't really a secret. At the end of the valley is a hidden, manmade pool, with warm water coming from the geological springs beneath. With the promise of hot water, we stripped down to our suits, our bare feet sliding on the icy walkway, and carefully lowered ourselves into what turned out to be really lukewarm water. Looking up the mountain, we could see small streams of melting snow flowing into the pool, cooling the warm water from the springs. However, swimming to the other end of the pool, where the geothermal water was freely flowing, made the experience much more pleasant. There we leaned against the edge of the pool, arms propped on the side and feet kicking underneath, taking in the surrounding beauty. Though the layer of ice covering every visible surface made getting out unappealing, the slim four hours of daylight in January edged us onward, and we reluctantly got back in the car to drive towards Black Sand Beach.
This is where the trip went slightly awry. On the way to Black Sand Beach in Vik, there is supposed to be a beautiful lookout where you can see these gorgeous pillars of black rock protruding from the ocean. Although we only had one hour of daylight left, we figured we were close enough to the beach to stop and see this lookout. We stopped in a parking lot leading to a wide open trail leading straight out to the cliffs overlooking the water. This parking lot, with the exception of the waterfalls, was the busiest place we had seen all day. With excitement, we started on the wide black pathway, straight and flat as the Icelandic summer day is long. However, as we continued to walk, we discovered the flatness of the landscape here was deceiving. About 3 miles later, the sun had practically set, and instead of finding ourselves at a lookout (which may have been even further down the way) we found ourselves at the wreck of a plane. This site IS famous (thus all the people) but it was not what we had planned on and we were frankly baffled to have found ourselves there. Chuckling, we took some pictures, and decided to turn back. By the time we got halfway back to the car, it was pitch black, and although we made it to black sand beach that night, I can only tell you that the sand beneath my feet was black and I could hear the waves off in the distance. We refer to this part of the trip as the Never-Ending Black Road. It was beautiful and eerie and obvious and deceptive and exciting and aggravating all at once. And given the chance, I will never go back. It was after that long walk that I turned to Nick, a look of hanger on my face as I scarfed down a gas station sandwich, and we decided that we would go to public spa and geothermal pools the next day.
Our next trip out into the wilderness was on horseback. Iceland is really proud of their horses (NOT ponies, although they are pony size). These gorgeous fuzzy animals are smaller than other horses, but they have an interesting fifth gait that other horses don't have. This is called the Tolt, and in it Icelandic horses can run up to 20mph with at least one foot always touching the ground. This makes for a very smooth, fast ride. If you breed these horses with other horses, their offspring won't have this gait, making these horses truly unique. You can find them everywhere around Iceland, but I highly recommend finding a farm to go for a ride yourself. As the horse and I crossed rivers and rode into the mountains, I could imagine what it would have been like for the vikings who came to Iceland originally, traveling into the wilderness, relying solely on themselves and their horses.
Directly after the ride, we hopped on a bus to go on a tour of the Golden Circle, one of Iceland's most famous tourist attractions. On this path, you see waterfalls, Pingvellir National Park (where you see the meeting of the North American and European continental shelves), and Geysir, for which all other geysers are named.
I had never planned on visiting Iceland, but when I look back on the trip, it is THE trip to beat in my mind. When January came around this year again, Nick and I couldn't help but feel like we should be heading back. Maybe it's the magic of the elves that are supposed to live in the land, or the spirit of the Vikings and the current people of Iceland, but it's hard not to feel the pull to return time and time again. Even with a week, we barely scratched the surface of what Iceland has to offer, and the rest of keeps calling to be seen.
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