Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.09.2015, Blaðsíða 22

Over the next twelve hours, along with a
photographer and a guide, I’ll be embark-
ing on a super jeep trek deep into the
Icelandic highlands. As well as the bar-
ren beauty of the region, we’ll see some
of Iceland’s most dramatic, far-flung vol-
canic sites, such as the Askja caldera, its
neighbouring explosion crater Víti (that
means “hell”), and Holuhraun—the new
lava field born during the Bárðarbunga
eruption that began a year ago, to the day,
as we set out eastwards.
After the hourlong drive to our meet-
ing point of Reykjahlíð, we arrive to find
our guide relaxing patiently in the warm
sun. His name is Sæmi, and he’s a for-
mer park ranger of the Askja region—a
job that involves living up in the high-
lands for weeks at a time to monitor the
area, providing information to travellers,
maintaining hiking trails and dirt roads,
and developing new sites of interest.
This work has left him with an exhaus-
tive knowledge of the area, on subjects
as varied as the shifting of glacial rivers
to the chemical composition of the rocks
they flow through, as well as local folk-
lore, underground volcanic systems, and
the use of the area as a filming location,
and by NASA’s astronauts during prepa-
ration for the Apollo moon landings.
Sæmi is a friendly and hospitable guy
who switched from ranger to tour guide
when he started his young family. He and
his wife—also a former ranger—now run a
small company called Geo Travel, in col-
laboration with a handful of local guides,
all of whom have specialist-level knowl-
edge of the area. "It’s a living," smiles
Sæmi. "But more importantly, we're doing
something fun and enjoyable."
Into the wild
The Super Jeep is an imposing and rug-
ged vehicle—a Nissan Patrol 2.8L, modi-
fied to take 38” tyres, with a crawling
gear for river crossings and other diffi-
cult types of terrain. With padded leather
seats and air spring suspension front and
back, it’s also a pretty smooth ride. “The
Patrol is popular with guides in this area,”
explains Sæmi. “It’s a good car, but it’s
also partly because if everyone drives the
same model, it’s easier for us to get spare
parts. If everyone drives something dif-
ferent it can be a hassle.”
We’re soon roaring past pearlescent
lakes and raw umber mountains at a
steady 50 km/h. Our first stop is Hross-
aborg, which acts as an informal marker
of the highlands’ beginning. The name of
this large tuff crater translates as “horse
city,” after its historic use by farmers as a
handy naturally formed pen for rounding
up grazing horses. It’s also picked up the
nickname “The Cruise Crater” since fea-
turing as a location in the film ‘Oblivion’.
Sæmi sets about letting half of the air
out of the Patrol’s chunky tyres, making
them more able to deal with the rough
road ahead. I wander away from the car,
turning over a stone in my hands and ab-
sorbing the chilly emptiness of the wind-
swept highlands.
The king and queen
The road takes us across the world’s
largest lava plain, Ódáðahraun, located
between the twin mountains of Snæfell,
a high snowy peak far to the east near
Egilsstaðir, and Herðubreið, a towering
bulge visible from many parts of Iceland.
"When you can see both of these moun-
tains—Snæfell the king, and Herðubreið
the queen—you know it’s a good day for
this drive," says Sæmi.
The varied landscape of Ódáðahraun
is the result of lava fields from many dif-
ferent eruptions combining, from prehis-
tory to the present day. The translation of
the name is, approximately, “bad deeds
lava,” taken from tales of fell spirits oc-
cupying the gnarled black rock forma-
tions, and from its use as a hideaway by
outlaws. Its terrain changes rapidly, from
an expanse of sandy, boulder-strewn dirt
to a vast tract of black flatland, studded
with countless gleaming black pebbles,
to an undulating track that winds steeply
through jagged, sculptural lava forma-
tions. Even crossing the bleak and vio-
lent tableau in a comfortable super jeep
rather than on foot or horseback, it’s easy
to feel the sense of foreboding that led to
the name.
A desert oasis
In the heart of the wasteland lies Herðu-
breiðarlindir, a desert oasis close to the
foot of Herðubreið, where a freshwater
spring emerges from beneath a basaltic
lava sheet. Over the years, this has given
rise to a patch of verdant heathland. The
air is alive with birds and insects, and a
few wooden huts stand watch over a
small camping ground.
Over a short rocky path lies a tiny
man-made hole in the ground, lined with
chunks of grey rock, going a couple of
metres deep. Sæmi stops here to tell us
about the life of the outlaw thief Fjalla-Ey-
vindur, famous for surviving a twenty-year
banishment from civilisation, which was
normally considered a death sentence.
He was caught and arrested, but escaped
his captors during a church service, flee-
ing on the back of a stolen horse. He built
this shelter using the horse’s spine and
skin to make a roof, and passed the win-
ter of 1774-75 eating the horse meat, and
wild angelica root that grows nearby.
Whilst many unlikely embellishments
have been added to the Eyvindur legend
over the years, the sight of his shelter
more than justifies his place in folk his-
tory; anyone who could survive here dur-
ing the bleak Icelandic winter deserves
the recognition.

Explosions, landslides, tsunami
An hour south, past the dramatic canyon
of Drekagíl (“dragon canyon”), we pull
over and embark on the two and a half
kilometre hike to the Askja crater. It’s a
freeing feeling to be so high up, crossing
a plain of powdery snow amidst all this
raw nature, far from any trace of civilisa-
tion. After we trudge over a final muddy
bank, the explosion crater of Víti comes
into view. This spectacular formation is
a deep cone with a saucer-like lake of
vivid, milky-blue water at the bottom. The
walls of the crater are an earthy spec-
trum that runs between dark, crumbling
mud scored with long cracks, deep ochre
outcrops and bulbous bulges of visceral
meat-coloured rock, like the exposed in-
nards of the earth.
The shore of nearby Öskjuvatn—the
lake that fills the Askja caldera—is littered
with small, floating lava rocks. Sæmi re-
lates a story of two German scientists
who were lost here long ago, never to be
found. Current thinking is that their din-
ghy was swept away by a tsunami caused
by a landslide. As we talk, we hear a dis-
tant rumble and splash echoing across
the lake—our heads snap up as one,
and we sit in a sudden alert silence. “If
it’s a big landslide... we run,” says Sæmi,
Deep in Iceland’s volcanic
highlands, new lava field
Holuhraun opens for visitors
There are few things more exciting than waking up in Iceland with a full day of travel
ahead. As I pull open the blinds of a bedroom at Akureyri Backpackers—lodgings so
comfortable that the term "hostel" seems ungenerous—I’m overjoyed to see the sun
shining brightly in a cloudless morning sky. The mercurial, regularly unseasonal weath-
er can dictate everything in Iceland, so a perfect late-summer day is a fortuitous start.
Photos
Anna Domnick
Words
John Rogers
22 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 14 — 2015TRAVEL
Treading New
Ground
How to get there: Tours leave from Mývatn lake. Get there via Route 1 north.Holuhraun Lava field