Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.07.2019, Qupperneq 47

hill hikes empty of other humans.
The air fills with the acrid scent
of sulphur, and we gulp in the odd
smell—for we know it means geo-
thermal is nearby.
We pick our way carefully, hur-
riedly down wood planks to the
first sulphuric fumarole. Steam
hisses from a vent, and water boils
beneath the earth’s surface. We lay
down by the phenomenon to angle
our ears closer to the geothermal
soundscape.
But we don’t linger for long.
A bridge invites us over a chat-
tering creek, lined with more
steam vents and boiling masses.
The boardwalk disappears and
we step timidly along soft yellow
ground. To our left is an expanse
of sulphur crystals and boiling
mud pools, each bubbling puddle
a fascination for eye, ear, and
nose. One hand laid on the yellow
ground reveals geothermal heat
beneath the surface on which we
crouch. It’s a bewitching, danger-
ous path, and we learn its beauty
with each tentative step.
Up and down hills we wander,
watching the northwest sun play
with clouds. The landscape shifts
its warm colours with each dip of
cloud shadow. Fumaroles and mud
pools fill the slopes of the rhyolite
hills. Time slides past us.
As the sun dips beneath a taller
hill, we find the ideal site for ritu-
al. On the nearby riverbank, work
has begun to construct a geother-
mal bathing area. The hot spring’s
boiling water slides into a freez-
ing subarctic stream, mixing to
a pleasing 37 degrees. We take off
our hiking boots and wool socks,
and slide our feet into a small wa-
terfall. Water bubbles and gurgles
over our toes as we make one wish
at this solstice shift.
Warm ground,
warm hearts
After a sumptuous sleep in La
Plata, we awake to full sun and
two glaciers. Our trusty steed gal-
lops again over the rocky F-road of
Kjölur as we wind our way north
to the geothermal oasis of Hver-
avellir. This valley is marked by
multiple small geysers and calci-
fied rock formed from hot water
flowing in thin bursts over years.
Peculiar mounds of sulphur belch
fumarole steam into the air. We’ve
found yet another hot spot in Ice-
land’s vast inland desert. Each
geyser boils a different rhythm,
and we delight at the tiny erup-
tions spitting water from under-
ground.
After meandering the board-
walk of Hveravellir, we hike into
the surrounding lava field in
search of circular a’a lava forma-
tions. Lava bubbles have cracked
into knolls, populated with flora
and great nesting grounds for
rock ptarmigan. Upon cresting
one knoll, we startle a ptarmigan
into flight, shuddering loose a few
downy feathers as it careens into
the field, croaking with surprise.
The knoll itself is a haven for
lichen and moss. We spot tea-cup
lichen tiny enough to hold dew for
a fairy’s drink. Reindeer lichen
proliferates. Black lichen curls
a witchy bouquet on basalt. The
intimate witnessing activated by
our geothermal walk extends to
close encounters with these lava-
field inhabitants. We are once
again warmed by the abundance
of curious lives who flourish in the
heart of Iceland.
gpv.is/travel
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