Reykjavík Grapevine - 06.10.2017, Síða 52

It’s raining as myself and my road
trip partner set off on our six hour
jaunt to Myvatń, in northern Ice-
land. It’s a dreamy area, punctu-
ated by steamy hot springs, caves,
and brusque lava fields, which
sprawl around the shore of one of
Iceland’s biggest lakes. As the rain
beats down, we pass through jag-
ged mountains covered in deep
purplish heather and daubed
with olive green, rusty red, and
the occasional flash of ochre. I’m
reminded of the smudgy and bold
colours of oil pastels. Eventual-
ly, the mountains give way into
a calming fjord, lapping slowly. I
feel reverent.
After a brief stop in Húsavík,
we finally arrive in the tiny village
of Reykjahlíð. Lake Myvatń winks
in the sunlight, serene and beau-
tiful. We spend a minute watch-
ing a group of ducks glide across
the water, then set off again for
Dimmuborgir.
An eerie calm
Dimmuborgir, or the “Black For-
tress,” is a 1km stretch of errati-
cally shaped lava columns. They
formed when hot lava cascaded
over the ponds trapped beneath,
causing the rising steam to form
vents in the lava. The resulting
cavern then collapsed, leaving be-
hind a maze of rubble and strange,
contorted pillars. They’re impos-
ing structures, with pockmarked
frames that twist chaotically.
I’m told of the legend that Satan
landed here after being cast from
heaven, but all I feel as we walk
between the pillars is calmness.
The next stop is the Hofði pen-
insula. Creeping through its in-
nocuous little entry gate, we find a
wooded area fringed with flowers
and a panoramic view of Myvatń.
Lava formations
s t i t c h e d w i t h
spongy moss spi-
ral out of the water
into grassy craters.
In the distance, a
ring of mountains
is bathed in golden
S ept em b er s u n-
shine. Padding si-
lently back through
the woods, once
again I feel rever-
ent.
Strange
new world
We kick off the next
day by relaxing in
the soothing geo-
thermal waters of
the Myvatń Nature Baths. I forget
to take out my nose rings, despite
ample warning, and the sulphur
in the water turns them from sil-
ver to black. “You look more metal
now,” says my companion. It’s a
more fitting look for storming
up to Krafla. You can’t get much
more metal than a volcano.
We peer into the rich teal
depths before swinging round to
Grjótagigja, a formerly popular
bathing site tucked away inside
a lava cave with an impressive
fissure along its top. Next, we
tackle a series of pseudocraters,
and we enjoy mingling amongst
the sheep grazing on their slopes,
which are spoiled only by an un-
sightly concrete
walkway along one
of the peaks.
Our final stop
is the otherworldly
Mt. Námafjall, or
“Hel l’s Kitchen.”
Streaks of sulphur
paint the ground,
pots of mud bub-
ble and pop, and
plumes of pungent
steam roll from the
fumaroles. It’s yet
another startling,
alien landscape.
I fall asleep on
the way home, and
when I w a ke at
around 11pm, I see
the telltale glow of
Reykjavík ahead.
Soon, we’re weaving through in-
dustrial suburbs. Lights swim in
front of my bleary eyes and I say
a silent goodbye to the unspoilt, ex-
tra-terrestrial world of the North.
52 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 18 — 2017
Another World
The bizarre, beautiful landscapes of Lake Myvatń
Words: Charley Ward Photos: Art Bicnick
Hverarönd—bubbling pools of mud
Dimmuborgir—volcanic caves and rock formations
Grjótagjá—a lava cave with a thermal spring inside
Höfði—a small forest on Lake Mývatn's shore, featuring views of strange lava pillars
Distance from
Reykjavík:
470 km
Car provided by:
gocarrental.is
Accommodation provided by:
fosshotel.is
“Streaks
of sulphur
paint the
ground, pots
of mud bub-
ble and pop,
and plumes
of pungent
steam roll
from the fu-
maroles.”