After our respite in northern Iceland, Paul Martin and I found ourselves driving towards the volcanic desert of central Iceland once more. Our rocky target of the day was the “Mother of all tuyas”, Herðubreið. Tuyas are flat-topped, steep-sided volcanoes that formed as a result of sub-glacier eruptions. Referred to as the Queen of Icelandic mountains, Herðubreið is one of the countries most iconic tuyas and a marvel to behold.
Herðubreið, the Mother of tuyas
To reach our target, we followed roads 1 and F88 into the Icelandic highlands until the turnoff to Herðubreiðartögl. Herðubreið, by far the most visually captivating edifice was in fact one of a series of eruptions in the same area. A shorter, more disproportionate sibling of it was Herðubreiðartögl. Given the relatively flat nature of the surrounding wasteland, the towering series of tuyas were evidently imposing even from afar. The closer we got the more we marveled at the sight and formation of these massive volcanic centers.
Lava cave around Herðubreið
Herðubreið and the lava fields
While approaching Herðubreið, the road became quite rough as it crossed a series of old lava flows. The ride was very bumpy and we couldn’t help but joke about the extremely bouncy ride we had a couple of days before when our rear suspensions broke. Just a few moments later there was a noticeably bad bump that felt like the car’s bottom had hit the rocks beneath. I gazed over at Paul and said “That didn’t sound good”. He tried to wave it off with a smirk and an “I don’t know what you’re talking about” line.
The lava road to Herðubreið marked out by sporadic road demarcation pylons
We first pulled over to sample Herðubreiðartögl and then proceeded further to stop at Herðubreið. After a short hike up the base of the mountain to collect my sample, it was lunch time. By that time the sun was out and the sky was clear. It was a gorgeous day to be out exploring the natural beauties of Iceland. Paul and I were both very happy with how the day was going. That is until we went back to the car and noticed the back half of the chassis slanted down on the rear tire… The suspension broke again.
Dreki hut and the Icelandic park rangers
With our once more handicapped car we drove to our next destination, camp Dreki. Located at the mouth of the Drekagil gorge in central Iceland, Dreki is a small base camp for the Icelandic national park rangers offering two living huts that can accommodate 50 visitors during the summer. Paul had to notify the rangers of our arrival and intent of work within the park’s limits. He was also hoping to get some advice and perhaps some help with our limping Landcruiser.
Dreki Hut, east of the Dyngjufjöll mountains in central Iceland
One of the rangers had a look at our car and was quick to point out that it would be a bad idea to keep driving the car on the F-roads. Instead of both suspensions giving out on the back, this time only one of them broke. This caused an awkward tilt side tilt of the chassis and was putting a lot of strain on the back axel. If we forced it too much on the mountain roads it could completely break the axel. Considering we still had several targets planned in central Iceland for the next two days this was pretty bad news.
Talk about a low-rider SUV…
We asked if there was any other vehicles available at the camp that we could potentially borrow. Or if the rangers had any other suggestions. This one ranger, Hannes, tentatively mentioned that he might be able to gives us a ride to our locations. I could see Paul’s face lighting up immediately. Hope was back! But our ranger friend couldn’t promise us anything yet and had to get back to work. He left us there to settle in for the evening and would be back later with an answer.
The Icelandic National Park Rangers at Dreki
After settling in, we had dinner and tried to salvage whatever was left of our scratched up “Viking” beer cans. The recovery was about 80-90% which wasn’t too bad considering the cans were bouncing all around in the back of the car together with rocks and tools for hours. Later in the evening we met up once more with Hannes and he finally agreed to drive us around for the next two days.
A couple of the surviving Viking beers after battling flying rocks and tools in the back of our bouncing car
The desolate land of ash and rock
The next morning we got into the truck with Hannes and bolted across the grey landscape of central Iceland. The man clearly knew these roads like the back of his hand. The car was literally flying on the F-roads. We were reaching our targets in little to no time.
A shout out to our friendly Icelandic park ranger and volunteer driver, Hannes
We were once more on the infamous Gæsavatnaleið that had wrecked our car during our first day in the field. We had a short stop at Gigöldur, where we sampled an old fissure eruption as well as a few other hyaloclastite outcrops around the mountain.
Claiming my rocks at Gigöldur
Without wasting any time we were back in the car and flying towards Urðarháls. Urðarháls was a massive crater located fairly close to where we had stopped the first day when going to Kistufell. With its steeply inclined walls, Urðarháls is about 0.1 km deep, 1.1 km long and 0.8 km wide. The bottom of the crater seemed impossible to access and the thought of falling into it with no chance to escape gave us pause. Luckily, for our work it was enough to simply hammer out a piece of rock from the top.
At the mouth of Urðarháls crater
With our tasks for the day completed in record time, we drove back to Dreki for a relaxing afternoon.
The Dyngjufjöll mountains
Upon our return to camp, Paul decided to catch up on some reading/work and I got the afternoon off. I decided to take advantage of the free time and go hiking up the Dyngjufjöll mountains near Dreki.
Hiking up the Dyngjufjöll mountains
At first I was just aimlessly walking up the first slope taking the path of least resistance. After crossing a narrow valley, I reached a plateau just above the camp offering a spectacular view towards the east. The whole area was covered in a variety of volcanic sediments. The most intriguing being a centimetric layer of light beige pumice.
The eastward view from above Dreki
Apart from the eerie blanket of fine pumice, several large fragments are scattered about across the landscape. The pumice which blanketed a large area in all directions was formed as a result of the Askja eruption of 1875, one of the most catastrophic volcanic events in Icelandic history.
Light pumice fragments covering the Dyngjufjöll mountains
The highly explosive eruption of Askja in 1875 killed much of Icelands livestock and local vegetation. So much so that it led to a famine crisis. As a result much of the population emigrated to other parts of the world, especially North America. Ash and pumice from the eruption was carried across the North Atlantic, with reports of fallout as far as Norway and Poland.
Glacial striations in the volcanic rocks of Dyngjufjöll
Upon exploring the plateau further I discovered a hiking trail with a sign reading 8 km to Askja. I was immediately hyped to go see the famous caldera for myself! However, 8 km one way was quite a lot considering it was already around 3 pm. With a reluctant sigh, I decided to play it safe and not venture into the unknown alone without notice for several hours.
Exploring the valley towards Drekagil
A storm front was also visibly closing in, so staying back was the right call. There could always be a next time anyway. As the rain rolled in, I decided to go back and further explore the narrow valley I had climbed up on. This lead me to a hidden little gem of a waterfall called Drekagil.
Drekagil waterfall
I spent another hour or so roaming around the mountains without venturing too far from Dreki.
Saving a day
The following day we had just two more targets to reach. A small distant volcanic cone called Lindakeilir and a quick sampling stop along the way at Upptyppingar.
A well-defined pillow basalt at Upptyppingar
The first stop went without a hitch. We reached our hyaloclastite target, grabbed a quick sample and blasted off. The second one though ended up being quite the disappointment.
The little volcano Lindakeilir surrounded by the most vegetation we’d seen in the last two days
In the geological literature and maps, the little volcanic cone at Lindakeilir was labeled as hyaloclastite, our sought-after, brown rock types. However, when we got there there was no brown rocks in sight. The entire cone was made up of sub-areal black basalts. Not at all the sub-glacier volcanic rocks we desired.
I could hear Obi Wan Kenobi’s voice in my head saying: These are not the hyaloclastites you were looking for…
Nonetheless, we reluctantly grabbed a sample and vowed to forever mention this felonious error that made us drive all the way out there for no reason. However, with Hannes at the wheel we wasted little time and ended up saving a day of work.
Once more it was time to say farewell to central Iceland
Since we had finished our objectives in the area, Paul decided to cancel the last night at Dreki and hit the road the same day. A last minute Airbnb booking and a quick phone call to the car rental agency later, we bounced along with dodgy suspensions towards East Iceland.
Following our rocky first day in central Iceland, pun intended, we returned to Akureyri to get our car repaired. With broken rear suspensions, it was a slow and bumpy ride back. All of our stuff was bouncing around for hours in the car. Tools and rock samples collided repeatedly with beer cans, which lead to quite the leaky mess in the back. By the end of the journey, our car smelled like a fraternity dormitory.
Our bouncy SUV with zero back suspensions
On our way back to northern Iceland, Paul took a little detour to show me a gorgeous waterfall spot with columnar basalts. For those who don’t know, columnar basalts are a tall hexagonal rock formations that form when thick lava flows cool and contract. This causes the rocks to crack and break into unique shapes resembling natural stone pillars. Columnar basalts are quite common in Iceland as well as other parts around the world with past or present volcanism.
Columnar basalts flanking a river and waterfall, northern Iceland
Several hours later, we arrived in Akureyri and immediately took our car to the mechanic shop. The mechanics soon realized they needed a car part to be flown in from Reykjavik so the soonest they could fix the car was by the next day. Thus, I ended up having a free day to explore Iceland’s biggest northern town.
Akureyri
Often referred to as the capital of northern Iceland, Akureyri is a charming little town nestled at the base of Eyjafjörður, Iceland’s longest fjord. Despite its small size, Akureyri has a good variety of cafes, restaurants and bars along its main street. There’s a beautiful cultural center and botanical garden in the town center as well.
Akureyri’s main street with bars, restaurants and trolls
Akureyri was founded in the 9th century by a group of Norse settlers lead by Helgi Magri Eyvindarson. It later gained prominence in the 18th century when Danish merchants established a trading center there. The town’s growth accelerated in the 19th and early 20th centuries, driven by its thriving fishing industry and favorable location in on the fjord, which provided a sheltered harbor for ships.
Statue of Norse settlers Helgi Magri Eyvindarson and his wife
During World War II, Akureyri served as an important Allied base, contributing to the town’s development and infrastructure. Post-war, Akureyri continued to expand, becoming a cultural and educational hub in northern Iceland.
Eyjafjörður, Iceland’s largest fjord
In modern times, the town has kept its historical charm with well-preserved wooden houses, museums like the Akureyri Museum and Nonni’s House, and landmarks like the Akureyri Church, designed by Iceland’s state architect, Guðjón Samúelsson. This blend of history, culture, and natural beauty makes Akureyri a unique destination in Iceland and one that I’m glad I got to briefly explore.
Akureyri Church near the town center
For those interested to read more about the town and Iceland in general, I recommend having a look through guidetoiceland.is.
Northern Iceland
The next morning we eagerly awaited to get our car back from the shop and head out into the field again. Our planned early morning start had to be pushed back as our Landcruiser was still undergoing repairs. The delay wasn’t too bad considering our targets for the day were in northern Iceland, just a few hours drive east. However, Paul was becoming quite impatient. Finally, after a couple of hours, we got the car back, suspensions and all, and quickly drove off towards Gæsafjöll.
Gæsafjöll, northern Iceland
Getting the job done
Gæsafjöll was a relatively obscure hyaloclastite mountain about an hour drive northeast of Akureyri. Just next to it, however, was a much more renowned active volcanic caldera named Krafla. The road took us past Lake Mývatn, a famous tourist attraction in northern Iceland. We then had to take a series of dirt-roads that may, or may not have been private roads.
Different rock layers at Gæsafjöll reflecting different eruptive events
It wasn’t our intention to trespass of course, but the closer we could drive to our mountain, the less time we’d have to waste walking. Finally, we reached a closed gate. So in true explorer fashion we simply let ourselves through. There was nobody around to ask for permission anyway… After getting as close as the road would allow, we parked the car and set off on foot. Within an hour we managed to reach the mountain, sample several outcrops and finish our work in the area.
Collecting my rock samples from Gæsafjöll
It was a beautifully efficient day thus far and we only had one more target to the southeast with plenty of time to spare. When we got back to the car, I noticed cylindrical red piece of plastic in the grass: a shotgun cartridge. It was time to leave.
Still not sure if we were on private property or not, but we didn’t want to stick around to find out
The hunt for Bláfell
Our second and last target for the day was Bláfell, another large hyaloclastite mountain located south of Mývatn. To try to reach it, we’d have to take another one of the F-roads into the Icelandic highlands. But before we’d venture back into the desolate grey lands, we stopped for a nice lunch at a cool little pizzeria on the way!
The perfect lunch stop along the way
After a good meal we hit the road. Trying to figure out the right road once we got off the paved ring road was challenging. We were using what maps we had of the area and our GPS point of where Bláfell should be. We chose to take a road called Grænavatnsgrundir, heading towards Sellandafjall. Bláfell was supposed to be parallel to Sellandafjall and we were hoping the road would curve around the first mountain and get us close to our target.
Our GPS target spot was supposed to be somewhere in those mountains
The all too familiar Icelandic wastelands
Once more we were back in the bleak alien world extending into central Iceland. Apart from some sparse weeds, the vegetation was gone. So was the clear blue sky. As if to mirror the dark desolate rocky wastes, the sky turned a grey overcast.
As the road took us further south, we could glimpse what we thought was Bláfell in the distance to the east. However, it was quite far away with several mountain ridges and a vast terrain of basaltic flows separating us from it. We kept on driving in hopes we’d have the chance to turn towards it at some point. However the further we drove, the more it became clear we were getting further away from our mountain. At that point the road was also just basically a set of old tire tracks we were following.
Driving further south trying to find the end of the massive lava flows to our left
Off-roading had crossed our minds, but considering the extensive wall of lava flows that was flanking us, it seemed quite impossible.
Should we push our luck?
Finally, we reached what looked like the end of the lava flow. However, we were now very far from Bláfell. The road pretty much disappeared by this point. There were still some tire-marks left, but they looked more like dirt-bike or quad tracks rather than car tracks. The only potentially possible way to continue was to cross a fairly steep sand dune and off-road it from there. However, with our previous car troubles and prospects of getting stuck, we weren’t too eager to push our luck. We got out of the car to scout around and our prospects weren’t looking good.
Surrounded by lava flows, our last option to reach Bláfell was going off-road
I was cautiously encouraging Paul to try to brave the sands. As long as we steered clear of the jagged basalts, our car should be fine. However it was also getting late in the afternoon. Considering we had to drive back to Akureyri, we couldn’t afford wasting too much time in the desert. Nor could we afford risking getting lost, or damaging the car again…
Bláfell in the distance with a maze of sand and lava flows between it and us
Paul weighed our options carefully. Whatever he’d decide, I’d be onboard. With a heavy sigh and a defeated smile, he decided to give up on Bláfell and turn back. The mountain had won this day.
Hverir: a living land of color, heat and gas
On our way back to Akureyri, we made one last stop at Hverir, a geothermal spot near Mývatn. Easily accessible from the ring road, Hverir is a popular tourist attraction in northern Iceland boasting an eerie landscape with vivid colors, bubbling mud pots, hissing steam vents and more.
A surreal landscape of color, heat and gas
The first and probably most striking feature of Hverir is the colorful landscape. Vivid shades of yellow, orange, red, and brown are a stark contrast to the barren surroundings. These colors are due to the high concentration of minerals such as sulfur and iron in the geothermal deposits. Due to the extreme geothermal activity there, the land is also devoid of vegetation.
Mud pots, fumaroles and hot springs
The area is dotted with mud pots, which are essentially pools of hot, bubbling mud formed by geothermal activity. These grayish mud pots are created when the acidic geothermal waters dissolve surrounding rocks into a fine clay, which is then brought to the surface.
Bubbling mud pots at Hverir
Another feature that Hverir is famous for is its fumaroles. Fumaroles are basically steam vents that release sulfurous gases from the Earth’s crust. The steam rises from cracks in the ground, often at high temperatures, and the air is thick with the smell of sulfur, giving the area a characteristic “rotten egg” odor. The corrosive sulfur also creates vivid yellow vuggs in the rocks creating an unsettling dissolution texture.
Vuggy dissolution textures in rocks with corrosive, yellow, sulfur-rich rims
There were also hot springs in the area, though they were far too hot for bathing. These springs contribute to the steam that rises from the ground, adding to the area’s steamy, surreal atmosphere.
Steaming fumarole at Hverir
The constant flux of heat, steam, and chemicals gradually erodes the surface rocks constantly reshaping the land and the size of its fumarols and mud pots. Due to the extreme temperatures of the ground and steam vents visitors are asked to stay on the marked paths.
I was very happy we got to take some time to go sightseeing at Hverir
After leaving Hverir we drove past several other attractions including the lava fields at Dimmuborgir and the phreatic tephra cone, Hverfjall. I wished that we had more time to explore the wonders of northern Iceland, but for the time being we had to return to Akureyri and prepare for our next field day which would take us back into the heart of central Iceland.
The three things you wouldn’t normally expect to hear in the same sentence are warm, sunny, Iceland. Yet this pretty much sums up the entirety of our two week field trip to the north Atlantic island.
Just to briefly recap: my whole going to Iceland actually started with a late-2015 proposition from my soon to be MSc thesis supervisor, Paul Martin Holm, to do a project on Argentina. Then after the Argentina project ended up being a bust due to some financial miscalculations, Paul Martin was quick to offer me another possibility: the Iceland project.
Grass-covered basalt layers and volcanic edifices – a taste of what is to come
Thus, I was fortunate enough that in early August 2016, I was flying together with Paul Martin, on an all expense covered field trip to Iceland. As it turned out, that August would be one of the sunniest and warmest periods Iceland had had in quite some time. Fortune was truly in our favor!
Airport shenanigans
As I was on the metro heading towards the airport on the day of our trip, I suddenly got this nose bleed out of nowhere. Alright, no big deal. I thought, it should stop by the time I actually got the airport. Nope! It kept on going, no matter how much tissue paper I stuffed up in there. I don’t know if it was stress, or what, but this was really out of the ordinary for me…
Some time later, I meet up with Paul Martin in the airport. He’s there all cheerful and happy and here I come leaking blood all over the place. He started asking if I was alright, if I was good for the trip. I was more annoyed than anything else because I couldn’t stop the nostril faucet and enjoy our upcoming trip. Too much excitement?
Oh, and someone had lost their balloon in Kastrup Airport… Tragic!
So we end up talking to airport staff who connects us to a medical person they had on the line. We ask the person on the line weather it’s safe for me to get on the plane with my stupid nose bleed. The person gave me the all clear and finally, by the time we get to security, the bloody leaking stopped. We were off to a “fantastic” start, I said to Paul Martin…
Arrival
Luckily the flight was fairly uneventful and once we were above Iceland we got to have a decent areal view of the fantastic landscape below.
Flying above the volcanic chains of Iceland for the first time in 2016
As I recall we spent quite some time at either, or both the airport and the car rental agency. There was all sort of paperwork for Paul to fill out and waiting around for other people.
One thing with Iceland is that they are, or were, very rigorous about what goes out of the country. Especially when it comes to rocks. The country doesn’t want tourists to be taking rocks from their National Parks away as souvenirs. Since we were on a geological research project and it was kind of our business to take rocks away, there were all sorts of forms to sign and people to notify.
Then the car rental people were slow with delivering our car. Just as a heads up, Iceland is an extremely expensive country and renting cars is no exception. So Paul went with the cheapest agency he could find that rented out SUV’s. Finally, after a few hours, we had our Toyota Landcruiser and were heading to our hotel in Reykjavik.
Exploring Reykjavik
I had the rest of the afternoon off and was planning to meet up with my Icelandic friend Bjørn from Denmark, who was back home in Reykjavik.
Beautiful, Sunny Reykjavik
The weather was fantastic. Slightly breezy, but sunny and warm. Nothing like what Bjørn had described to me with his doom and gloom build-up to my trip. The moment I meet up with him he was upset. He was angrily exclaiming that this isn’t fair! I’m not seeing the real Iceland. It’s supposed to be cold, rainy and super windy, always! Well… Not when I’m there, I said to him laughing out loud.
Bjørn then took me around the main attractions of central Reykjavik. We started off with the iconic Hallgrimskirkja, a towering 74.5 m high church that stands as one of the tallest structures in the country. It’s unique exterior design resembles that of columnar basalts found in various parts of the country, as well as other volcanic regions around the world. In front of the church is a statue of Leif Eriksson, the famous Viking explorer thought to have been the first European to reach North America.
Hallgrimskirkja with the statue of Leif Eriksson in the front
Harbor area
From Hallgrimskirkja we walked around the small center briefly touring the University of Iceland’s campus. Afterwards we headed towards the Harpa Concert Hall and the harbor area. Here ran across Minør, a small preserved steam locomotive. Part of the short-lived Icelandic narrow-gauge railway, it was used in the early 20th century in constructing the Reykjavik harbor.
Minør the steam locomotive
Finally, we went over to Bjørn’s place, which was close to the harbor. Everything just seemed close in Reykjavik, one of the smallest and neatest capitals in the world. After meeting part of Bjørn’s family, we headed up to a rooftop terrace where a splendid city view welcomed us. We proceeded to enjoy a couple of cool drinks and soak in the warm rays of sunny Iceland.
Having a beer with Bjørn in Reykjavik
From student to colleague
In the evening, I met up with Paul Martin and we went out to a restaurant of his choosing to have dinner. This would be one of the last day we had a high quality cooked meal, as for the next two weeks we’d be traveling across Iceland and eating mostly canned foods and sandwiches.
Paul asked me if I’d like to share a bottle of wine with him. Seeing the extravagant prices around me, I sheepishly replied that I would, but considering the rule we had in our Gran Canaria field trip that students pay for their alcohol, I was reluctant to pay the hefty sum out of my barely recovering pockets. The man smiled and replied, but you are not a student here anymore, you are my colleague, so that rule doesn’t apply. I loved this guy! He always knew how to brighten my mood. We continued on to have a wonderful dinner with drinks and jolly banter.
The next morning, we packed up the Landcruiser and drove all day north to Akureyri.
The long drive north to Akureyri and the start of our Iceland adventure
It was now June 2016 and summer was upon us in Denmark. My financial crisis was over and I had settled into my new routine, balancing study and work. We were nearing the end of the semester and the onset of summer break. I was happy to take a break from courses and begin focusing on my ambitious one-year thesis project on Iceland. However, this period also triggered a new crisis for me. A housing crisis…
The problem…
In one of my first posts about life in Denmark, I mentioned how difficult it could be to find an affordable place to stay in Copenhagen, especially as a foreign student. The Housing Foundation was a relatively easy, albeit pricey, solution for first-year students. But their contracts would only cover the first year of study, and mine was nearing its end.
I got my two legs to stand on, but now I lost my upper body – Uh oh! – Sculpture from The Glyptotek, Copenhagen
I began looking for other potential dorms, and housing portals a couple of months before the deadline, but this was already way too late. Waiting lists for some of the dorms in Copenhagen had people on them going back over a year. It was absurd!
I was getting tired of the never ending crisis, but it was time to “fight” once more, so head first right into the storm!
I searched through some of the major housing/rental websites too. There were seldom any studio apartments available. If I ever found one, the price would be too steep. Flat sharing was more common and affordable, but even that was hard to come by as demand exceeded supply.
Last, but not least I made sure to spread the word amongst my friends in hopes that they knew someone looking for a flat mate. Luckily I had no shortage of friends. I was also quickly making more friends in Danish language classes. However, it seemed like everyone was looking for a new place to stay…
At least I found the horse – south Amager, Denmark
Cycling and exploring
Potential homelessness aside, things were good. Whenever I had free time and decent weather, I’d get back on my bike and go explore new parts of Copenhagen and its surroundingas. In this regard, I had found a like-minded friend in Danish class: Marios from Greece. On one of our cycling trips we south of Copenhagen to explore the island of Amager.
Cycling along Sluseløbet in west Amager
Amager was a blend of the urban, ultra-modern south-side of the city of Copenhagen bordered by cow and horse filled pastures. A comically stark change back then. Not sure if it’s still the same today. Further south there were a few quiet towns, nice beaches and Copenhagen international airport (Kastrup). All of this within reasonable cycling distance.
Somewhere in Kalvebod Fælled, close to Kastrup airport in south Amager
Dyrehaven
On another occasion we cycled north-east of the capital, to Dyrehaven (Deer park). This was one of my favorite places to go outside of the city. The northeastern coastline leading to the park was gorgeous, especially on a sunny day. At the entrance of the 11 km2 park was Bakken, the worlds oldest working amusement park.
Horseback riding in Dyrehaven, very common across Denmark actually
Dyrehaven was crisscrossed by a web of trails all converging around the center of the park at the royal hunting lodge. On the wide trails we’d zig zag around trekkers, cyclers and the occasional horse carriage. The narrow forest trails were less crowded and way more fun for cycling.
Racing across the park
Across the wide park we’d often encounter groups of deer roaming around the ponds and forests. Every now and again we’d reach the fenced edge, reminding us that we were in a man-made park and not in the wild. For me, this was the one sad thing about Denmark. It’s so extensively developed that there’s barely any patches of wilderness left. At least on the eastern part of the country where I lived and traveled.
It was always a side quest to find the deer whenever I’d visit Dyrehaven
The crisis is over! for now…
Towards the end of June I found myself having a drink with some of my fellow student at the Geobar. I still hadn’t found a place to stay and I was supposed to move out of my dorm within a week. As I sat there complaining and being all mopey, my drunk friend Lasse says out of the blue: “Well why don’t you come live with me, buddy?”. He tells me the price he’s paying and considering the location and size of the place, it was crazy cheap! The explanation was that his uncle owned the place. It was too good to be true.
There’s my shocked expression when Lasse invited me to be his flat mate out of nowhere – The Glyptotek, Copenhagen
I thought he was surely joking; but no he wasn’t… Then I thought he was just saying that because he had one too many drinks at the time… yet, the next day when I brought it up again he was still onboard with the idea. Just like that, my crisis was solved. Well, at least for the time being. We agreed that I’d still be searching for another place while I’d be living with him. Something that would kind of slip my mind after a few months as I became more comfortable there.
Big DONG sticking out in Amager, Denmark
His setup wasn’t really meant for long-term squatters, but I made the best of it. We got ahold of mattress, threw it on the floor in his study room and voila! Home sweet home. Well, sort of. Hey, it worked for the time and by splitting his already low rent, I was saving some good money too!
Another crisis averted, could I actually relax for a change, or was the next one right around the corner?
A travel-packed summer
After settling all of my problems in the first half of 2016, I was ready for a fun, travel-packed summer.
During July, I took a few days to hop over to Germany and see my mom who was visiting our relatives in Wuppertal. All I recall from that trip was visiting this funny park with some quirky modern art and décor. Another thing I recall was that at that time I was already planning to bring my mom over to Denmark for Christmas, so I was building up the hype for that.
Being eaten by a puffy German house – Wuppertal, Germany
Other than Germany, I had two big trips coming up. A two-week field work in Iceland for my Masters thesis and a glorious return to Norway, to visit my good friend Daniel, who had recently moved to Trondheim. It was truly going to be an epic summer. One of my fondest to date!
The next morning, before heading out, we met Julio’s boss and manager at the Borgund Stave Church museum, Tanna. I recall being eagerly inquisitive about a potential part-time position at the museum. By this point I had fallen in love with Norway so much that I would have done anything to stay. They were actually looking for more people for the next year’s tourist season. But they wanted someone fluent in French. Unfortunately my French language skills were abysmal. Ironic how today, ten years since this trip, I am in a place and position where I once more would greatly benefit from a high level of French. After our pleasant conversation with Tanna, we bid farewell to her and Julio and set off to climb the mountain.
The tiny village of Borgund with the Stave Church museum to the upper left
Once more, we were very fortunate with the weather. The entire week we spent in Norway we had nothing but beautiful clear sky and warm days. From what we were told, the entire summer before that was murky and rainy. We definitely picked the best time to go.
The climb
From the Borgund valley at around 400 m, we climbed all the way up to around 1200 m during the first half of the day. We followed a gravel road climbing the mountain and ran into the owner’s herd of sheep at one point. The sheep had stopped in the middle of the road and eyed us like motionless statues. With their horizonal pupils intensely focused on us, we felt uncomfortable… judged. We maintaining eye contact as we slowly approached the herd. It felt like a stare down in one of those old western movies. Then out of nowhere, they defecated before our very eyes and moved along. We felt we had been given the right of passage. We could now continue climbing up.
Admiring rock outcrops on our hike up the mountain
Along our journey up, we had to make many stops. The backpacks were heavy and our energy levels were not the greatest. I guess that’s what you get when you’re on a mostly ramen-berry diet for days in a row. At least we didn’t have any water shortages. There were plenty of small creeks we ran across on our way up. We were however a bit hesitant about drinking from the creek after our sheeply encounter. We decided to ration what we had and find a safer source, closer to the top.
The higher up, the better the view
A bit over half the way up we decided to make a base camp. We pitched our tent in a small clearing in the forest and left most of our heavy stuff there. Coming from Romania, we have an overly cautious attitude towards leaving belongings in the open where they can be easily stolen. In this situation we were on private property and far from anyone else. This was also Norway, not Romania. So begrudgingly I agreed to leave some of my stuff behind. However, I still refused to leave my big backpack. It was like my big blue baby. I wouldn’t abandon it.
Our new base camp with tent tucked away under the trees
On top of the world
Not too long after setting off from our new base camp we reached the start of the mountain plateau. Gone was the densely vegetated forest. Taking its place was alpine vegetation, with but a few scattered trees. Before us lay one final gentler climb to lake Vassetvatnet, flanked on both sides by gorgeous, tall peaks. We simply referred to them as the two monsters guarding the path. Behind us the scenery now opened up to reveal the deep valleys and neighboring peaks. It was magical.
The start of my victory pose, only to be used on rare, glorious occasions
We spent the rest of the daylight up there. Tried our luck once more with some fishing, but third time was not the charm. We tentatively climbed a portion of one of the monster peaks, but weren’t serious about going all the way. It had been a long day already and these peaks required a lot more energy then we had left. We also followed one of the small creeks all the way to its spring point, which was strangely satisfying. Fresh water, right from the source! A couple of times during our stay, we spotted a lonesome car driving away into the distance on the road. Somebody waving their hand at us from the car. Most likely the kind owner of the property. We returned the gesture.
Vassetvatnet, the lake with a dam and plenty of fish, but none for us
I find it hard to describe just how good I felt when we were up there. Perhaps it was the serenity of the place, or the sheer panoramic beauty. For whatever reason, that day there in particular managed to heal my troubled mind. All my troubles and worries from back home now washed away. At that moment, for me personally, our adventure had achieved its goal. I used that day to mentally get over all the hardships and struggles of my life back in Romania. I was forging a new purpose. Something to fight and strive for. I was going to make moving to Norway my one primary goal from that point on.
One of the two monster peaks rising just above 1600 m altitude
The end of a journey
Before heading back down to our tent for the night, we were treated to one of the most beautiful sunsets one could ask for. As the sun gradually disappeared behind the great fjords in the west, it felt as if the land itself was bidding us farewell. After a good night’s sleep, we packed our things the next morning and headed back to the bus stop.
A sunset over the fjords
We went back to Fagernes and our favorite camping ground to relax. Since it was our last day in Norway and we managed to not break the bank, we indulged ourselves with some local food. I recall the last evening in Fagernes camping as we melancholically stared across the lake. I pointed to a red building in the distance on top of the hill and told Daniel that that would be my house one day. With my loving Norwegian wife preparing some scrambled eggs for breakfast. He pointed out that that was in fact a barn. I didn’t care. It will do just fine! The heart was heavy, but the mind was more determined than ever before.
Strondafjorden lake, Fagernes
The day of our flight back from Oslo, the skies were overcast and an chilly autumn wind had arrived. It was the end of our journey for now. Just as we seemingly had brought the good weather with us, we were now taking it back. I was going to return to Norway one day. But twists and turns would redirect my life in many more ways before that day would come.
Our time in the great fjords had come and gone. The next morning we left Sogndal with a heavy heart and an empty stomach because “Dang, those food prices!”. I had honestly forgotten about our huge shock regarding the price of food during our first visit to Norway. But my good buddy Daniel reminded me in a recent chat while reminiscing about our old adventure. Indeed, we mostly ate out of our own reserves we took with us. Trying our best to avoid having to buy food, because let’s not forget, we were on a very tight budget. That’s what led us to hours of foraging while we’d go hiking. We were living off the land… and ramen noodles. We even got creative and made our own “berry burritos”. Basically a bunch of wild berries wrapped in sorrel leaves. Mmm… so healthy, but I digress.
We were now on our way back east from Sogndal. Crossing once more the great Sognefjord by ferry, we were heading towards a little settlement tucked away in the mountains of Lærdal called Borgund. We wanted to see one of the last remaining stave churches in Norway. Incidentally, Borgund is home to one of the most well preserved ones. Now I called Borgund a little settlement because, even by Norwegian standards, this place is tiny! As in, we counted like 7 houses. There wasn’t even a bus stop in Borgund. Instead, we had to get off in the middle of nowhere after exiting one of the tunnels in Lærdal, where a lonely sign said “Stave church” 1 km away.
Crossing the Sognefjord by ferry
Borgund Stave Church
We made our way to the Borgund Stave Church. Built more than 800 years ago, the church is classified as a triple-nave stave church of the Sogn-type. Its grounds contain Norway’s sole surviving stave-built free-standing bell tower. These days the church is run as a museum by the Society for the Preservation of Ancient Norwegian Monuments . For more details on the church, I’d direct you to everyone’s favorite free information website, wikipedia, where I also happened to yoink the previous statements from. If you’re considering visiting, you can check out their opening hours here .
The Borgund Stave Church, 2013
The outer part of the church was covered by a relatively fresh coat of tar when we visited. This is done regularly to protect the wood from the elements. The outside and insides are decorated with intricate wood carvings combining the old Norse pagan beliefs with Christian ones. The inside of the church is fairly dark in the absence of regular windows. Only a few rays of light are allowed in through narrow openings, mostly in the roof. The site definitely merits a visit for its uniqueness and historical significance.
The bell tower next to Borgund Stave Church
We were fortunate enough to be the only people visiting at the time. During our visit, we had a long friendly chat with one of the staff at the museum, a Spanish fellow by the name of Julio. We told him about our adventure and how it all began with a lost credit card at a sandwich shop in Schiphol Airport. He was amused by our story so much so that he invited us to spend the night at his cabin. Well, his managers cabin where he was living. We happily accepted and would meet up with him again after his shift.
Tons of runic engravings on the old church door
The King’s road
The Stave Chruch was not the only historical site in Borgund as we found out. The old valley is also marked by a stretch of The King’s Road. Completed in 1791, the King’s Road was the first “drivable” road to link Eastern and Western Norway. Although, I personally wouldn’t attempt driving on it, it was definitely a wonderful hiking experience!
The narrow stretch of The King’s Road
Starting off from Borgund, the first stretch of the road was fairly narrow. More of a nice walking pathway. But I suppose a not too large carriage would fit through well enough. Then after a while the road widens up quite a bit and adds protective railing as a feature, taking on a true “Kingly” aspect. Makes me want to pull parallels with today’s way of building roads in Romania: here’s a perfectly good stretch of 1 km highway, followed by “Oh my God what is wrong with this road !@#”. But that wouldn’t be a fair comparison. The old Norwegians actually finished their roads, hah!
The wide and smooth “Kingly” stretch of The King’s Road
Suffice to say it was a perfect 1-2 hour walk on a nice and warm sunny day. Plenty of berries to forage on the way too, in case you want to replenish your strength!
Plans change. Again…
After our royal hike, we went back to Borgund to meet up with Julio and head back to his cabin. We spent the late afternoon talking and relaxing by the river. I fondly remember the homemade chorizo he offered us. After days of ultra-processed packed food and wild berries, some good quality meat was outstanding. Daniel and I munched up the entire plate. In retrospect we felt a bit bad about severely depleting poor Julio’s chorizo reserves. I hope his sister made more for him that year!
The Borgundsfjorden river flowing through the Borgund valley
Although our plan was to head back to Fagernes the next day, Daniel and I were still keen on going wild camping at least for one night. My mountain hiking hunger was also not fully satisfied yet. The “mountains” we’d climbed thus far were mere “tall hills” by my standards. I wanted something more significant, more challenging. Some place far away from the beaten path, where I could climb up and see the lands far and wide.
The winding King’s Road near Borgund
It so happened that one of Julio’s neighbors in Borgund owned the land covering the local mountains. Yes, you read correctly. Mountains. Plural. I don’t know if this sort of thing is normal for other places, but for us it sounded quite impressive. So after a quick message exchange, Daniel and I got permission to hike up a private mountain the next day. And let me tell you… This wasn’t one of those “tall hills”. No, no, no. This was the real deal!
Fagernes had to wait another day. We were ready for a new adventure!
We arrived in Sogndalsfjøra in the afternoon and quickly made our way to the local camping ground by the fjord, on the west-side of town. There were quite a few people with RV’s and tents set up in the main camping area where the ground was flat and the grass was cut. They sounded mostly Norwegian and so we didn’t want to bother them too much with our rowdy eastern-European shouting way of speech. Thus, Daniel and I decided to pitch our tent further up the gentle slope where there was nobody else. Here the grass was tall and wild, overgrowing a small old playground too. No bother, we wanted wild camping anyway.
The town of Sogndalsfjøra on the Sognefjord, seen from the west side
As the sun was heading west, the mountain behind the campsite started slowly casting its great shadow. I wanted nothing more then to try to climb up on top of it! We set up our tent, left our stuff in camp and headed out to explore the area. We quickly made our way up the streets of the residential area looking for a path to take us up the mountain. Instead we wound up in someone’s backyard… Oops! We had a laugh with the owner and he pointed us in the right direction. Eventually, we made it up to a lovely clearing and were treated to a superb view of the surrounding area. We then headed back down to explore the town and decided to leave the full mountain hike for the next day.
Sogndalsfjøra
Like we’ve come to expect by this point Sogndalsfjøra was a nice and cozy, quiet little Norwegian town. We walked up and down the streets taking in the sights and the Norwegian chattering around us. It felt like we were the only foreign tourists in town. Well, except for this one other backpacker dude that we kept running into everywhere. I mean seriously. We saw this guy like 5 times popping up everywhere we went. We half expected to run into him in our tent too. Well… small town I guess.
Just an old Laben in town… (this will get a snicker out of any Romanian speaker… don’t ask why)
By the time we made it to the other side of town our stomachs were rumbling and the sun was starting to set. It was time to head back to camp.
Sogndalsfjøra from the east side with our camping ground to the far left at the foothills of the mountain
An adventurous evening
Once we got back and had a much needed meal in camp, we spent the last minutes of daylight chilling by the overgrown playground. As we’re goofing around on the swings, we suddenly notice an alarmingly large number of spiders inhabiting the corners of the swings, just a couple of meters away from our tent. Neither of us have any arachnophobia luckily, but the sight was quite unsettling. Especially when upon closer inspection we realize it was an entire nest of Cross spiders, with a gigantic mother queen in the middle. Now we understood why everyone else was camping on the nice patches of cut grass and not in the wild jungle we were in.
Apparently cross spider bites are harmless to humans, but at the time we weren’t sure about that. Back in Romania we used to be told to keep away from these types of spiders because they can land you a trip to the hospital. Regardless, it was now dark and we couldn’t really move all of our stuff until the next day. As long as we kept the tent closed, I thought, we should be fine. Daniel, however, was not having it. He was hell bent on usurping the queen mother, but wasn’t sure how to do it. Within a few minutes, he shows up with a pot and pan in hand, ready to strike the killing blow. I strongly advised against this rash and reckless course of action, but he wouldn’t listen.
The mother queen!
With arms spread out far to keep a safe distance, he bashes the two items together in the most clumsy way imaginable hoping to squish the spider-queen. The pot and pan fall out of his hands dropping into the spider-infested grass. The murder weapons were safely recovered and inspected for proof of success. However, it seemed like the assassination attempt was failed. As a good friend, I reminded him of how I advised him not to do this. Now the spider-queen would come back to get him in his sleep!
Our spidery hosts
Sogndal hiking
We survived the night and woke up the next day to a bunch of our lovely spidery hosts investigating the outer layers of our tent. Thankfully none ever got inside of the tent. We just had to be careful when going in and out of the tent, so as to not have any unwelcomed guests. Otherwise, we had grown accustomed to our new eight legged friends. After the morning ritual we decided to head back up the mountain behind us and climb up all the way to the top this time.
Hiking around in Sogndal
As I recall, it was a good hour or so hike up through the shady forest. On our way we found a decent variety of mushrooms, but didn’t attempt picking any. Neither of us were mushroom experts. On the way we constantly got glimpses of the spectacular views through the trees. Oh and there was this random wooden shack on the way. Probably holding someone’s secret shroom-stash.
Shelter, or private shroom-shack?
Towards the top, just as we were coming out of the forest, we found this large patch of blueberry bushes. I think we spent at least half an hour munching on those. Every time we’d want to continue we’d stop to just take a few more. We also had this pack of almonds with us and discovered how amazingly well almonds go with blueberries.
To eat, or not to eat?
Breathtaking views
Beyond the rich blueberry fields, we came across a small lake surrounded by swampy ground where we met a couple of polish guys on their holiday. Beyond the tree line we got a glimpse of snow-capped mountains in the distance. We later learned that we were looking towards Fjærland, and one of the last remaining glacier fields in Europe. The sight was just so incredible and unexpected. We discussed possibly going there the next day, but eventually decided not to. We weren’t really equipped for snowy conditions and were already half way into our holiday time.
The glorious mountains of Fjærland in the distance
We continued our hike on the trail towards the south. At one point, we found this curious cube placed on top of a dried up tree. Could it be the famous cubic oracle of ancient folklore described by various tripped out shamans of old? Either that, or a moose attracting salt block.
Oh great cube, imbue us with your salty nature and show us what you’ve seen!
Hiking on, we got a good glimpse, and shot of this big pointy antenna thingy that was sticking out from one of the neighboring mountains. We kept seeing this thing from camp too and named it the Soyuz, just because it looked like some Russian rocket ready to blast off into space.
Soyuz to the Moon!
Finally we reached the southern edge of our trail and got treated to the most spectacular views of the Sognefjord!
Sognefjord, view towards the west
Gone fishing
Later that day, we went back down to the fjord. Daniel was ready to try out his fishing prowess once more. There were many attempts and I believe at least one more hook was lost. The end result was a bunch of tangled fishing line and a half-decent clump of oozing seaweed.
Catch of the day, 100% vegan friendly
While he was busy figuring out his tangled wires, I decided to take a dip in the fjord. I mean, one should not simply travel all the way to the fjords without testing the waters. In conclusion, the waters were cold. But not too cold. Like it was ok to take a dip and wash off, but anything more then that was just brrr.
“Brrr-o-meter” was not great, not terrible
After we had our fun in the fjord, we hiked around the edge of town some more, checking out some nice looking rock outcrops. Hey, we’re geologist. We’ll sometimes randomly do that kind of stuff. Funky folding rock textures
The day was almost over now and it was time to say farewell to Sogndal, to our spider friends, to the random backpacker dude we never talked to, to the Soyuz and everyone else. I’m always a bit sad when I’m more than half way through my trip, because I realize the adventure is soon coming to an end.
We left our runic mark in the sands of Sogndal. I don’t remember what we wrote, so I’ll just assume it was something nice like love and hugs… Ah, who am I kidding, it was definitely something obscene!
We had about 3 days left of our holiday and the current plan was to start heading back east the next day. We would stop for a day somewhere in the mountainous regions of Lærdal to check out a historic stave church and hopefully do some more hiking. Then we’d go back to Fagernes and spend the rest of our time there. However, don’t forget… plans change…
The next day we had quite a few hours to kill before our bus arrived. So we decided to spend the better part of our morning walking around the small, quiet town of Dokka. Around noon, we took the next bus going west, towards the great Norwegian mountains and fjords. As we drove on, the small hills grew bigger, slowly transitioning into steep-cliff mountains. After just over an hour, we decided to get off the bus in Fagernes, a small city in the Valdres Nature and Culture Park, Norway.
Fagernes, Norway (2013)
Fagernes
The city is situated on the shores of the beautiful Strondafjorden lake, flanked by hills and mountain peaks on all sides. The landscape showcases the transition from the gentle lowlands to the east to the imposing Jotunheim Mountains to the west. As you may imagine, the area around the city provides some excellent hiking opportunities, with truly breathtaking views. Meanwhile Strondafjorden lake serves as a great swimming and fishing spot, as well as seaplane runway.
Strondafjorden lake, seen from Vesleøye island
Fagernes camping
After getting off the bus, Daniel and I made our way to the local campground. Nestled between mount Storøyi and lake Strondafjorden, Fagernes camping offers cabins, apartments and plenty of green space for pitching your tent. The restroom and showers were very clean and well kept. However, I clearly remember there being some sort of a water usage tax when using the facilities, which was very odd to me at the time. With our less then impressive budget, we were quite reluctant to use the shower as we expected exorbitant prices. After all, we were in one of the most expensive countries in the world. Hell, even using the restrooms freaked us out because what if it doesn’t stop flushing? We’d be literally flushing our savings down the nice and clean Norwegian toilet.
Cabins for rent in Fagernes camping
Aside from the quirky water-tax, Fagernes campground was and remains easily one of my favorite camping grounds. Overlooking the small island of Vesleøye with the city and gentle hills in the background, the view from our tent by the lakeside was simply incredible. Flocks of ducks would often swim around on the lake in front of us. A little seaplane was parked right across from us on the other side of the lake. Every few hours it would lake take off, only to return not long after. Considering the small size of the town, we were wondering whether the owner was simply flying off to do his grocery shopping elsewhere.
Our neighbour flying out to do his grocery shopping
To the southeastern edge of the camp, we found a pathway leading into the forest just beneath mount Storøyi. We spent the rest of the day hiking and exploring the city and surrounding forests.
Resident ducks playing around on Strondafjorden lake
Fantasy forests
I wanted to take a moment and share my appreciation for the forests around this region of Norway. Dominated by coniferous trees, the forests around Fagernes seemed straight out of a fantasy world. This was mostly due to the thick mossy carpet covering the ground almost entirely. It felt like walking on pillows and blankets. I had never seen anything like that before. Rock outcrops and boulders would often peak out from under the green rug, but still wearing an appropriate little moss cap. Colorful mushrooms and blueberry bushes would occasionally spice up the environment.
Moss, moss everywhere!
A curious thing we noticed was that tourists were way more interested in picking blueberries then the locals. In fact, I think we never saw any Norwegians foraging. Perhaps they were jaded from all their blueberry-munching ancestors that came before. Oh well, more for us!
Amanita muscaria, a mildly poisonous and hallucinogenic mushroom, common throughout Europe
Onwards, westward!
After an active afternoon hiking around, we decided to try out a local burger join. Sadly I forgot the name of the place, but I recall the burger was huge and delicious. The price was also quite huge. Enough so to make anyone’s eyes water and wallet bleed… but hey, it’s Norway!
Hey, it’s Norway! – Fagernes camping
Another hike later, we ended up back in camp, practicing our terrible knife-throwing skills at the edge of the forest. We enjoyed the rest of our evening lounging by the lake. It was at this time my dreams of a cool, bug-free northern paradise were dashed by the several huge mosquitos constantly pestering us. Daniel proposed that these were some sort of dragonflies as they were too big and it was too cold for mosquitos. My obvious mosquito bites by the next day would put a dent in his theory. So, word to the wise: pack mosquito repellent if you go camping in Norway!
Our evening view from Fagernes camping
The next morning we packed up and took the next bus westward. Deeper into the Jotunheim Mountain range, with the goal to reach the west-fjords.
In my previous post, I talked briefly about “The Park” in Baia Mare city and how it’s a gateway to easily accessible hiking trails. I mentioned that the path northeast, takes you to Roman valley (Valea Romană), which was one of my favorite regions to hike. This will be the focus of today’s post.
The Roman valley
Located about 7 km north of Baia Mare, the Roman valley stretches around 2 km, from east to west along a small river. The valley is flanked by forest covered hills and short-mountains (up to 850 m high). The river flows from the mountains eastwards eventually reaching Lake Firiza. Several hiking paths cross the valley, but the most common one follows the river direction. The main path is fairly wide and can also be crossed by bicycle, motorcycle or ATV. The landscape itself is beautiful and offers a great retreat from urban life, while being relatively close to the city.
Hiking in the Roman valley during February (2013)
Main path during summer, 2015
Mount Igniș (1307 m), viewed from the Roman valley (2014)
Mushroom season
Numerous pastures and fern-covered meadows dot the region and offer the opportune environment for one of the most sought-after edible mushrooms in Europe: the parasol mushroom. The parasol, also known as Macrolepiota procera, is one of the most easily identifiable edible mushrooms. Its cream-colored and brown dotted “scale-like” cap set it apart from other mushrooms species in the region. I am by no means an expert on mushrooms, but I find that the parasol is definitely one of the easiest ones to identify. It’s fairly common throughout European countries and it’s delicious!
Young parasol mushroom in the Roman valley (2014)
The parasol season starts around late-spring, during May and ends in October. Personally, I found that they spring up more during spring and autumn, and less so during the summer. This might be due to the more abundant rain during these periods. This is also the time that you are more likely to see other people walking on the paths, as locals often go mushroom-picking during the high season. You can read more here about how to identify the parasol, as well as some cooking tips!
How to get there
You have two options to get to the Roman valley from Baia Mare city. You can take a car up the 183 county road going northeast from the city. When you reach Lake Firiza, you will want to drive another 2 km (~3 minutes) from the Adventure Lake Resort, until you reach the big bend in the road, with a forest road heading west. There will be a barrier on the road, so you’ll have to leave the car there – don’t worry, there is enough space and everybody does this! Alternatively, you can take a public bus from Baia Mare, to Firiza and get off at the Firiza Lake stop. You’ll have to walk a bit to get to the forest road, so make sure you have a map, or someone with you that knows the area!
Forest road from Roman valley ending in the 183 county road (2013)
A more exciting options to reach the Roman valley, is to hike 6-7 km all the way from the Queen Mary Municipal Park in Baia Mare. You can do this by following Petőfi Sándor street along the park and continuing north up Usturoiul valley. At one point the road turns left just after the last power lines end at a private cabin. At this point you don’t want to continue on the road, as it leads to the village of Ulmoasa. You should instead go straight, following the tight valley going north. You can add to the adventure by having a compass with you to help keep you north-bound! This is kind of an off-the path hike, so don’t worry if it seems like you’re going nowhere. As long as you keep north, you will end up in the Roman valley.
I personally preferred hiking from the city, then following the valley east on the forest road. To get back, I would just take the bus from Lake Firiza to Baia Mare. If you want to extend your trip, you can also take the bus up north to Firiza and spend a night at a cabin. I will talk more about this region in my next post!
Curious dragonfly while hiking in the Roman valley (2015)
