Monsters, lakes, mountains, volcanos – and a few trees: just some of the highlights of east Iceland. We explore the pocket to the southwest of Egilsstaðir and ascend into the lunar lava landscape of the Highlands.
In Scotland you might encounter the Loch Ness Monster – in Iceland, they have the Worm or Wyrm (or slightly more glamously the Lagarflótsormur), a serpentine beast that must surely be closely related to Nessie.
Luckily it is similarly elusive and our visit to Lagarfljót, just inland from the eastern fjords, was monster free – in fact, we were so taken with Lagarfljót Lake that we immediately decided to spend two nights on its peaceful banks.
After 3 days in the beautiful but chilly fjords we hoped for better weather inland, and we were not to be disappointed. Not that one would want to immerse oneself here too regularly: the rather brown waters originate in the Vatnajökull ice cap, widening to a 38 km long, 50 m deep lake just south of Egilsstaðir.
However, the temperature touched 14° the day we arrived and it all looked rather serene and beautiful, neatly framed at one end by the snowy mass of Snaefell (1,833 m) and the equally snowy contours of the Dyrfjöll Mountains, to the north east of the handy town of Egilsstaðir, on the other.
The area also contains Hallormsstaður, one of Iceland’s largest forests – all of 740 hectares – but it was a pleasant sight, along with the low farmland which fringed the lake’s northern side.
We checked into Höfðavik Campsite, whose quiet, grassy slopes fell right down to the water’s edge. (1,900 kr. per person) We found a super spot just above a crescent of black pebbly sand where a tiny headland jutted out into the lake. With sweeping views in all directions, it became our de facto home for the next couple of days.
Some activity was required though: crossing the road by the ditsy gas station led to a couple of hotel parking areas. We ascended into the woods on a white marked track from Hallormsstaður Hotel (more options from the other hotel parking) which steeply ascended the hillside along surprisingly lush grassy paths fringed by silvery dwarf birch trees.
The views over the lake opened up around us and there were lots of rocky knolls to stop and enjoy the views. The track finished at a steep gulch where a waterfall tumbled down the hillside, although Simon decided to carry on to the very top by himself. He came back brandishing a giant reindeer antler; another Norwegian import, the animals roam wild in this area, although we didn’t actually see them.
HENGIFOSS WATERFALL
Just a little further down on the other side of the lake, our next stop was Hengifoss Waterfall which is approached by a steady 2.5 km uphill climb which shadows the gorge.
En route, one passes Litlanesfoss Waterfall. At only 30 m, there is a lesser drop, but it has an impressive display of hexangonal basalt columns formed by cooling lava. They have a slight curve to their top, indicating that the surface was still moving as the rock cooled underneath.
Hengifoss at 118 m is one of the highest waterfalls in Iceland and is remarkable for the bands of black basalt and red clay that are found within the cliff. You don’t actually get too close to it, but it is a lovely walk, with great views on the way down over Lagerfljót and the valley. We did the walk in a clockwise direction so we had lots of viewing stops over the gorge on the way up which gave us a chance to catch our breath.
The Hengifoss Food Truck awaits at the bottom with cool pallet furniture on which to perch whilst eating Icelandic waffles or sheep’s milk ice-cream.
SKRIÐUKLAUSTUR SKRIÐA
We headed 4 km further up the lake for our lunch: Skriðuklaustur Skriða was built in 1939 for Gunnar Gunnarsson, the famous author who was returning to Iceland after 30 years in Denmark. Reputedly the first author of Scandi Noir, he lived in the house for 9 years before retiring to Reykjavik and turning the house over to the state.
Sadly he was unknown to me, but the building is rather resplendent with big basalt rocks set in white mortar and a turf roof. It also contains a rather good cafe with large picture windows overlooking the valley where a herd of Icelandic ponies was grazing.
The emphasis is on home cooked Icelandic food and the lunch buffet for 4,495 kr. was good value for 3 courses and coffee. We started with a creamy wild mushroom soup (lots of milk and cream cheese involved), followed by a choice of Icelandic cod, a cheesey quiche, or reindeer pie with various salads and fermented vegetables.
The Happy Marriage cake was a hit for pudding and we enjoyed a coffee before checking out the monastic ruins below the house.
The Augustinian buildings date back to the 1490s, although the church wasn’t actually consecrated until 1512 – one can only imagine how isolated it must have been in those days.
All that remains are the low turf walls marking out the ground plan of the complex. Excavations revealed a surprising number of burials around the church although it probably only enjoyed about six decades in use before the Reformation.
200 m away there is an excellent visitor’s centre for the Vatnajökull National Park. As well as selling guide books and crafts, there was an informative display on the park and it’s inhabitants, including a stuffed arctic fox and a reindeer. A touchy feely section had a ball of the softest eider down imaginable in a soft brown colour, not the white I had imagined.
There is a coffee corner, free if you arrive on foot or by bicycle, and a lovely deck with seating overlooking the valley.
SNAEFELL
However, we turned away from its scenic delights and drove to Snaefell, about 40 km away. The road climbed steeply from the valley until we found ourselves driving over a wild unending moor, with frequent lakes and tarns. I think it is probably under snow for 8 months of the year, with stunted sparse vegetation and quite bleak, only enhanced by the rough mass of Snaefell looming on the horizon.
The last 12 km to the Snaefell hut were on straightforward gravel but we had our first river crossings which was very exciting, albeit in this case, little more than streams!
The hut was just that, with another couple of buildings anchored to the ground by huge boulders. It was quite windy and we had a battle to put up our tent on a piece of bare tundra below the hut. However, the sky was blue and there was a window to climb the mountain. Simon duly headed off at 6pm – at least one doesn’t need to worry about running out of daylight here and indeed many of the locals seem to relish climbing at night in the presence of the midnight sun.
I walked back from the ascent car park and enjoyed a fine view from the hut decking. The white mass which we had debated over on the way down as to whether it was a cloud or the Vatnajökull glacier turned out to be the latter, a white mass across the end of the valley. It would be difficult to imagine a lonelier, wilder spot.
Simon reappeared at midnight after a successful summit attempt. He’d enjoyed a superb view from the top although said it had been quite a relentless slog with the last 300 m a trudge through snow, although crampons weren’t necessary.
KÁRAHNJÚKARA DAM
The next day dawned grey and cloudy vindicating Simon’s decision to climb Snaefell the previous night. It was also a rather chilly 2° so our major stop of the day was going to be quite welcome.
We retraced our steps to the bitumen and took the road to the 198 m high Kárahnjúkar Dam which was constructed between 2003 and 2009. Although undeniably big – it’s 700 m across – it is in a fairly desolate spot. There is a 200 m deep canyon below it though which is very narrow and quite impressive – you can peep in as you cross the dam.
Another bonus: the loos at the dam wall look out spot are wonderfully heated!
LAUGARVELLI
8 km further on, we reached the turn off for the Laugarvelli hotpot, which I suspect may well turn out to be one of our favourites in Iceland.
Older blogs say to park at the turnoff but there is actually a good 3 km gravel track in, with one small river crossing near the end. The pools can be spotted on the way in where a river valley cuts through the grey hills.
There is a loo and a small hut which I presume is designed for walkers, and then an open changing shelter. I would recommend Crocs although you can just change on the grassy banks by the pools.
A short walk down a hill led to the main pool nestling under a small cliff where a hot waterfall cascaded down. It was a nice temperature, I would think about 37°, with a slightly cooler one just below. One could look down the valley over the river; there were a few distant pink footed geese.
It was all rather peaceful and idyllic to be bathing in such natural surrounds. However nothing good lasts forever! A tour group of loud Americans arrived, complete with cowboy hats and star and stripes trunks. Luckily by that stage we were in the lower pool as they completely filled the upper – it was time to head on.
ASKJA
We continued north on the F910, a rocky bleak landscape of rock and gravel with small stunted grasses and plants. Only the bright green fountain moss provided a spot of vivid colour.
A lunar landscape engulfed us, a study in griselle, rocks, pebbles, gravel, mountains, where the road was barely distinguishable from the plain.
It led us in convolutions to Askja, taking a long and tiring 4 hours to do about 100 km. There were more river crossings, including one quite large one where we held our collective breath but the Range Rover duly emerged on the other side with nicely cleaned wheels. For the first time, I was glad we had a 4WD.
We bumped over endless fields of lava, through soft sand and over lumpy rocks. A couple of violent glacial rivers were thankfully bridged. Apparently the 1960’s Apollo missions trained here and I could understand why.
We had some variety for the last 20 km: we entered an area of light pumice, causing the spikey lava rocks to stand out starkly.
There is a small cluster of huts at Dreki, isolated in a bleak expanse. We put our tent up on stoney ground and were soon in bed, long before a group of French motorcyclists who arrived at 1.30 pm.
VITI
The day dawned cold and grey and only 1°. We headed off for a look at Viti, the famous blue sulphurous lake nestled within a small crater. The 50 km² Öskjuvatn caldera lies behind it, created after an eruption in 1865.
An easy 2½ km trail leads to the edge of the caldera, via a largely flat route through volcanic gravel and pumice. Snow still lay in sheltered spots and ice clung to the wayside markers.
Unfortunately both lakes were lost in the cloud. We could see the vivid blue opaqueness of Viti through the murk but certainly little of Öskjuvatn bar one sloping edge.
Viti has been a popular place for a dip in the past with a temperature of approximately 22°, but it is not recommended now – the pH has dropped so much as to be virtually acidic and with increased activity in the area, the volcanos are now under active supervision.
We drove back through a jagged sea of petrified lava and explored the edge where it had come to a stop; there was an interesting contrast between the barren lava field and the old ground with small tenacious flowers clinging on. It was easy to visualise the molten rock bubbling down the hill, churning and colliding as it cooled.
KVERKFJÖLL
After a rather chilly picnic lunch at Dreki, we backtracked a little then turned off for Kverkfjöll. The road ranged from reasonably good to horribly slow and it took us nearly 3 hours to reach the huts at Sigurðarskáli.
It was another expensive night’s camping at 2,500 kr each but they had made some effort and provided us with a rare grassy patch below the hut. We were largely ringed by low ash mountains but to one side the great expanse of the Kverkjökull Glacier loomed rather greyly.
ICE CAVES
On another chilly morning, we drove 4 km on yet another rough rocky track to the Kverkfjöll Glacier where a short walk leads to the head of the glacier and then swings downstream to where one can see an ice cave. With geothermal heating, the river that emerges from it is called the Volga meaning ‘hot’ ; the one that rapidly joins it is called the ‘cold river’.
A friendly ranger said entrance was no longer permitted to the cave as it was too unstable but suggested a 40 minute walk to a glacier overlook. A little further downstream, this track swung off up a valley, following the curve of the glacier’s nose. After a while it climbed seriously but once we reached the glacier it was largely lost in cloud again. It is possible to climb onto it with guides, but we were finished. We packed up the tent and pointed the Range Rover north.
HVANNALINDIR
All I had seen in the last 2 days was grey so this spot was a pleasant contrast amidst the barrenness: although there is a lava field curling out from the bottom of the mountain, there are also springs where a profusion of tall angelica and grasses grow. The green fringed river runs through a picturesque valley.
At a river crossing 3 km before the parking area for the trails, there is a well disguised warden’s hut amidst the rocks – I have no idea what they do there, other than oversee a picnic table.
The natural rocky landscape provided a hideout for outlaws: Eyvindur Jónsson is said to have lived there in the winter of 1774-5. I think it is a safe bet that it was a pretty miserable winter for him.
A trail leads down to the stream, crosses a footbridge and wends onto the spikey lava. There are some walled remnants of the rough shelters they used and apparently one even had a tunnel to take the sheep down to drink without their being seen.
We headed northwards back towards welcome bitumen at our usual slow rate, with some amusement provided by the motorcycle tracks we were following in the sand. There had been lots of footwork involved and in a couple of places it appeared that they had dropped them.
We caught up with them at the scary river crossing. Three rode through successfully but the fourth, a woman, was such a shorty that she had to walk the motorbike through.
Note to self: never bring a motorbike to Iceland: too many long, rough roads and cold, wet weather. I was grateful to be in the car with dry feet as we covered the final 30 km stretch to Moðrudalur in a downpour.
It was 2° by 5 pm with rain and cloud. Over four days we had done a hell of a lot of driving. The landscapes en route had been more interesting than the destinations. I certainly would not want to pay tour prices to visit the area and have to spend the day being jolted around in a bus or land-rover on these roads (65,000 kr. for 10 hour trip from Modrudalur to Askja and Hvannalindar)
MOÐRUDALUR
This place is rather like an Aussie road house, offering all types of food and accommodation in the middle of nowhere. It was a hive of activity after our previously quiet days. A lot of the day tours to Askja set off from it.
Our camping card worked so we had free camping which rather compensated for the 900 kr we spent on two love balls, the house speciality which were basically a solid round ball of fried doughnut – but it had been a long day, heck, it had been a long four days – we deserved it!
