Reykjavík Grapevine - 16.07.2018, Blaðsíða 19

19 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 16— 2018
Info:
Weatherproof
clothing provided
by 66north.
is; 4x4 camper
van provided by
kukucampers.is;
accommodation
provided by
kerlingarfjoll.is
and hveravellir.is.
Words:
John Rogers
Photos:
Timothée
LambrecqThe engine judders to a halt, and we
step out of the van into a plume of
swirling dust. It’s approaching noon,
and the shadows of fast-moving clouds
dapple the panorama of bouldered dirt
that’s spread out before us. To the west,
the jagged icescape of the Langjökull
glacier glitters in the distance, send-
ing silt-grey rivers gushing across the
boulder-strewn plains; to the east, a
black, snow-streaked mountain range
rears up ominously in the background.
Ahead, the rough, potholed dirt track
of the Kjölur road passes between ash-
blackened crags and milky lakes as it
makes its way northward across the
expanse of Europe’s biggest desert: the
Icelandic Highlands.
We’re standing at the gateway to a
region that many Icelanders consider
a forbidden zone. Situated in the
lands 500-600m above sea level on
the island’s large central plateau, the
Highlands cover around 40,000 km,
and hold ten glaciers, 20 active volca-
noes and 16 geothermal areas within a
vast barren desert. Few roads cross the
area—there are a handful of serviced
routes that are nevertheless potholed
and heavy-going, and an obscure
network of all-but impassable F-roads
beset by shifting, treacherous, fast-
moving glacial rivers.
THE KNOWN
UNKNOWN
Despite this formidably inhospitable
setting, thousands of people visit the
Highlands each year. Between June
and August—the exact dates are, like
everything in the Highlands, strictly
weather permitting—tall all-terrain
buses trundle up to various campsites
and cabin villages. Rangers, wardens,
service staff and rescue workers relo-
cate to work in the area each summer to
offer help and information to travellers.
However, as we stand taking in
the first stretch of this five day road
trip, there isn’t another soul to be
seen. Our sturdy 4x4 camper van
will circle the towering Hofsjökull
glacier, taking us up the Kjölur trail,
and then down through the Spren-
gisandur plains. On the northwards
leg, we’ll stop at the campsites of
Kerlingarfjöll and Hveravellir; after
looping back southwards, we’ll spend
the night at either Dreki or Nýida-
lur and then, finally, at the famously
picturesque Landmannalaugar.
WHITE LAKES
The journey starts fortuitously, under
a blue sky with a few small skidding
clouds. A few kilometres past Gullfoss
the tarmac ends, and the van bounces
along the potholed road on mercifully
soft suspension. As we cross a single
lane bridge over the milky Sandá river,
it feels like the safe familiarity of the
south is already far behind us.
We take a spontaneous turn onto
road F335 towards Hagavatn, where the
meltwater from Langjökull pools into
a lake, forming the river’s origin. The
map tells us to expect our first river
crossing, but as we cruise up small
ridges and down into shallow valleys,
we pass through several dry, rocky
riverbeds. The mountains that had
been distant black shadows come into
focus as we draw closer—they’re actu-
ally covered in brightly coloured moss
and lupins growing in clay-coloured
dirt. As we reach the mountains we
pass through an unexpected grassy
meadow next to a burbling river that
swells as we approach Hagavatn. Even-
tually the river curves across the road,
blocking the path ahead. Our first river
crossing has arrived.
We pull over and survey the river.
The surface is rhythmically dappled,
suggesting that it’s shallow, flow-
ing over small rocks below. Where
the surface is still, the river is deeper.
We choose the shallowest, narrowest
point, and ease into the water gently,
going with the current at a steady
5kmph. The water sprays the windows,
but it’s shallower than we thought, and
as we make it across we’re buoyed by
the capabilities of our sturdy van.
DEAFENING QUIET
A few minutes later, the road peters
out at a high, steep bank. We set out
for the summit on foot, determined
to see Hagavatn. It’s worth it—across
its still white surface, we can see the
point where the glacier hits the water.
We can see the water being born into
the glacier lake, pouring through into
a torrent down a multi-level waterfall
before looping gently away across the
gleaming, pebble-studded plain. As we
survey the scene, the nature is deafen-
ingly quiet and intensely pure.
We rejoin the main road and head
north. An hour later, the Kerlingarfjöll
Mountain Resort comes into view. The
campsite sits on a riverbank beneath
a dramatic, sculptural cliffside, with
quaint green and red A-frame cabins
dotting the valley. We check in as night
falls and eat a welcome hot meal of
steaming hot plokkfiskur before falling
into our beds and a deep sleep.
OLD WOMEN
MOUNTAINS
The next day, in spitting rain, we
embark on a hike up to Hveradalir, a
geothermal valley nestled deep inside
the Kerlingafjöll (“Old Women Moun-
tains”) mountains. The trail starts at
the campsite, zigging up a steep hillside
to the top of a long, jet-black expanse.
Before long, the cabins are out of view
and once again my senses tingle keenly,
awakening to the feeling of ampli-
fied nature in the vast empty space.
The hike ascends steadily through
fields of glistening pebbles and, as
we trek higher, bands of snow. After
a couple of hours, the wind brings us
the distinctive smell of sulphur, and
the ground changes from firm dirt
to an orange clay that clings to our
boots heavily. We arrive, panting, at a
viewpoint overlooking a deep chasm
with several plumes of steam jetting
emphatically into the air.
DRAGON SPINE
The Hveradalir geothermal area turns
out to be bigger than I could have imag-
ined. The onward path leads gradually
down the spine of a long ridge into the
valley over an entire kilometre. Steps
have been hammered into the sticky
earth like stitches in the ground, which
changes colour through a spectrum
of bright yellow, earthy red, mouldy
powder blue and vivid emerald green.
Steam pours skywards from the count-
less hotspots, melting the lingering
snow into stunning organic sculptures.
Various paths intersect at the base
of the steamy valley, splitting off in
various directions. A long procession
of hikers in brightly coloured raincoats
stride purposefully past us, heading up
the hill with bulging backpacks that hint
at their multi-day route. A family of
German tourists disrobe and jump into
the warm, burbling stream for a soak.
Through walls of steam, I fleetingly
glimpse figures wandering the path-
ways, taking in the otherworldly scene.
We wander around the surreal
maze for an hour before looping up
the other side of the valley through
the mossy landscape. Back at the
summit, we take a final look back,
reluctant to leave this fantasti-
cal, sensually overwhelming place.
HOT SPRING FIELDS
Aching from the six-hour hike, we hit
the road as the evening approaches.
Our next destination is Hveravellir,
a steaming geothermal oasis with a
homely hotel and campsite.
We’re welcomed by Sölvi Péturs-
son, the son of the owner, who’s tells
us about his life in the Highlands.
“I’ve been working up here for two
summers,” he says. “We work six days
a week, with one day off. On that day,
we do what we can do up here—we go
to the hot spring, or on a hike, or just
enjoy the nature.”
Sölvi doesn’t miss the city life, and
has grown accustomed to bringing all
he needs with him each year. In fact,
he likes even more remote places out
on the hiking trails. “It takes a while to
get used to it, but when do you really,
really like it,” he says. “There are chal-
lenges you need to work with—we
have bus travel up here every day from
the beginning of June until the end of
August, so they help us with shipping
things.”
FURTHER IN
Sölvi’s favourite hiking route is the
multi-day Kjalvegur trail. “It’s some-
where between 40 and 50 kilometres,”
he continues. “There are three huts on
the way, much more isolated than here.
One time, I arrived at the first one late.
ENTER THE
HIGHLANDS
On a five-day road trip into Iceland’s formidable
Highland desert interior, we met the rangers, wardens
and rescue staff who live and work there
IMPORTANT
SAFETY
INFO:
Driving in the
Highlands
requires research
on everything
from suitable car
types to weather,
road condi-
tions, prohibited
practises, and
river crossings.
Visit the websites
safetravel.is
and road.is for
further guidance.
Sölvi Pétursson