Having now journeyed across most of the country for the last 10 days, our adventure in Iceland was soon coming to an end. With but a few days left to travel across the south of the country, I thought that I had seen everything this volcanic island’s landscape had to offer. However, to my surprise, the south would provide a radically different environment then what I’d seen thus far. There, the unrelenting waves of the Atlantic constantly battered the shore, while moody, dark clouds kept the tall looming cliffs in a constant shade. In contrast to the desolate volcanic wastes of central Iceland, the south was a mystical place where valleys whisper and icebergs are born.
The gloomy, shadowy southern coast of Iceland
Southern Iceland
We drove from Laugarfell south to get back on the ring road. It was an overcast day. Quite typical of southern Iceland since the weather there is heavily influenced by the North Atlantic Ocean. The combination of the oceanic climate and proximity to the Arctic Circle means that weather can be highly unpredictable, with constant cloud cover, rain, and wind. Furthermore, the mountainous terrain exacerbates this, creating microclimates. It’s not a stretch to say it’s an entirely different land than the arid center, or the calmer north.
The clouds were there for good
After driving across green mountainous lands, in and out of tunnels, we arrived at the coast. The road followed the coastline and the visual was quite impressive. On the one side there was the vast North Atlantic Ocean, relentlessly battering the coastline. On the other side, towering cliffs loomed above us with their tops hidden by thick, low-hanging dark grey clouds.
A place I would have loved to explore more
As the road swerved around the base of the cliffs, I’d occasionally get a glimpse of thin waterfall, or a narrow valley hidden in the constant mist. On one occasion the fog lifted just enough to reveal an icy “limb” of the Vatnajökull glacier creeping down from one of those narrow valleys. The eerie sight reminded me of the “Paths of the Dead” valley from the Lord of the Rings.
Jökulsárlón
Every now and again there would be a small wooden house nestled in under the cliffs. I could just imagine the kind of tales and sagas one would be able to write while living in a fantastical environment such as this. It was around that time that I began considering potentially moving to Iceland for a time. perhaps as part of a PhD? I probably wouldn’t have wanted to live out my whole life there, but a solid few years could have been incredible.
Some of the more visible waterfalls along the way
Some time later, we arrived at Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon. A stunning glacial lagoon, Jökulsárlón is where large chunks of ice break off from the Vatnajökull glacier and float in serene waters before drifting out into the Atlantic Ocean. It is basically a place where icebergs are born.
Where icebergs are born and with them the worries of Atlantic seafarers
This tranquil, peaceful area is surrounded by dramatic landscapes like the nearby black sand beaches giving it an otherworldly feel. This unique landscape is of course a highly popular tourist attraction, where masses of people congregate for photos and boat tours offering a closer view of the ice formations.
Natural ice sculpture: The shark and the spear fisherman
Truly it was one the busiest places we’d experience in Iceland. Probably even busier than downtown Reykjavik.
Highway to Hella
After our brief stop at Jökulsárlón, we continued west towards Hella. Our destination for the day was Beindalsholt, a guesthouse located on a farm near the village of Hella. On the way we made another stop south of Öræfajökull to collect some tephra samples for another study Paul was involved with.
On the side of the road, two pieces of mangled steel that used to belong to the Skeiðarárbrú bridge. The bridge was severely damaged by flooding in 1996 after a volcanic eruption in Grímsvötn. The remains now served as a monument to the raw power of Iceland’s volcanic and glacial forces.
Skeiðarárbrú bridge monument
As we drove further away from Vatnajökull, the landscape opened up revealing more waterfalls, hills and distant mountains. On the way Paul pointed out one of Iceland’s largest lava flows as we passed it by, the Laki fissure eruption.
The lush landscape of southern Iceland
The Laki eruption began in 1783 and lasted for eight months. The eruption that created a volcanic fissure system stretching over 27 kilometers released large quantities of lava and toxic gases like sulfur dioxide causing an environmental catastrophe. Evidence suggesting that the quantity of ash and gasses released caused a cooling period in the northern hemisphere that contributed to the “Year Without a Summer” in 1816.
Hekla and the highlands
The next day was to be our last day in the field. We had two final targets to sample. Located further northeast, to reach them we drove back once more toward the all too familiar wastelands of central Iceland. On our way we passed by one of Iceland’s most famous active volcanos, Hekla.
Driving by Hekla on our way north
At 1491 m high, Hekla is part of a 40 km wide volcanic system linked to the underlying rift between the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates. Notable for its frequent violent eruptions, Hekla is often referred to in Icelandic folklore as the Gateway to Hell.
One last trip into the Icelandic highlands
Contrary to Hekla, our target volcanoes, Saxi and Fontur were a lot less extravagant. In fact, they were relatively small phreatic craters composed of fine-grained unconsolidated crystal fragments. Once we reached Fontur, we realized we didn’t even need our geological hammers as we could simply scoop up a few fistfuls of loose crystals into our bags. Paul remarked that it was the most unorthodox sampling he had done so far.
Fresh olivine and plagioclase crystals, straight from Fontur
As we made our way back to the car, the weather turned bad. We took the opportunity to a have lunch and waited around in the car to see if we could ride out the rain. However it wasn’t going away and in the end we decided to pass on the hike to Saxi. After all, we had such a successful field campaign that we could afford missing out on one single sample.
The end to a great adventure
The day after, we drove back to Reykjavik. The sun came out to shine down on us one last time while on Icelandic soil. A few familiar sights greeted us on our way back. The moss-covered Laki lava fields followed us for the better part of the drive.
The friendly doggo at Beindalsholt greeting us in the morning
Later on, steam vents dotted the lush landscape as a constant reminder of the ongoing geothermal activity underneath. Finally the sights of increasing human activity dotted the rugged terrain as we approached the capital.
Moss covered lava flows that formed during the Laki eruption
Once in Reykjavik the urban landscape took over completely. The rugged terrain replaced by wood, concrete and steel structures. Cars coming and going, and everyday people living their normal lives. A stark contrast to the harsh land they inhabit, as well as a testament to humanities nature to survive and thrive in the some of the most unforgivable places on Earth.
Walking around in Reykjavik
As my time in Iceland had come to a close, I walked the streets of Reykjavik one last time reflecting on the incredible sights I had seen. It had been a truly remarkable journey, filled with laughs, adventures and good times. It had also been an amazing mentor-student bonding experience between Paul and myself.
It’s been quite the ride, both living and retelling the journey
I believe that the details in which I could retell this story today, over 8 years later, are a tribute to the many fond memories gained during my trip there to Iceland. Hence, I will forever be thankful to Paul Martin for the opportunity to go to Iceland as part of my Masters thesis project.
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.
