Reykjavík Grapevine - aug. 2022, Síða 30

30The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 08— 2022
Across the waters of Faxaflói Bay from
Reykjavík resides Esjan—the dark,
often cloud-covered mountain consid-
ered the quintessential Icelandic hike.
Esjan is often visible as we leave Grape-
vine headquarters, prompting us to
say, “We’re going to be on top of that
mountain…one day.” Spoken into exis-
tence, the intern gang vowed to climb
the mountain, and the appointed day
could not have been more beautiful—or
so we thought.
The uphill and our downfall
Spirits were high as we made our way
from the parking lot to the trailhead at
21:00. The weather was about as good
as you can get for Iceland—sunny,
clear skies, and so warm you almost
didn’t need a jacket—and we were very
pumped about the hot dogs and hot
chocolate we brought along to enjoy
at the top.
However, it didn’t take long for our
spirits to drop. We majorly underes-
timated the steepness of the trail—
though we probably should have
known, as Esja stands 914 metres tall–
and even though we like to think we’re
decently in shape, Esja made us think
otherwise.
Luckily, we had beautiful views of
Reykjavík and the promise of some
great food and drink to keep us going
up the daunting trail. We quickly fell
into a groove of joking, complaining,
and gasping at the view.
Unfortunately, our luck quickly ran
out. As is typical of Icelandic weather,
it changes minute-to-minute, and what
was once a clear, sunny evening became
foggy and cold. Slowly our view dwin-
dled and we could only see our feet and
a few rocks in front of us.
Truth be told, we considered giving
up a few times. Motivating yourself to
continue climbing the steepest path
you’ve ever seen at 23:00 when it’s cold,
raining, and so foggy you can’t even see
the view you came for is very difficult.
Still, we trudged on, almost entirely
motivated by the promise of hot dogs.
As much as we hated ourselves for
this self-inflicted torture, it wasn’t
entirely a bust. It provided our little
intern group some quality bonding
time before three of us depart Iceland
for our respective homes. We discussed
all topics ranging from grocery stores
to jouch memes to goofy songs from
our childhoods. Physically we may have
been in pain, but our hearts were happy.
Hot dogs and hot
chocolate
We never thought a random boulder
could bring us joy, but the mid-sized
rock with a “steinn” plaque marking
the end of our hike was met with much
relief and joy. Despite the thick fog,
cold winds, and rain, we took out our
small Coleman grill and prepared our
celebratory feast.
Several failed attempts to boil water
later, we each had a cup—or bowl—
of hot chocolate, making the weather
slightly more bearable. We cooked
some famous Icelandic hot dogs—
while teaching our Ukrainian intern the
Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme song—
and devoured them before signing the
guestbook and making our venture
back down the trail at midnight.
We can all say we’ve been to the top
of Esjan now, but we still have abso-
lutely no clue what the view is like, as
our only vista was thick fog and a Cole-
man grill.
The downhill and
resurrection
We decided—wisely—to take the same
path down as we had used on the way
up, even though the other half of the
loop was more direct. Sitting at the
top socked in by fog, the path was
unclear, and a midnight tryst through
a 900-metre high boulder field seemed
like a quick way to get lost.
Despite being cold, damp, and a little
crabby that we didn’t get to enjoy any
sort of view, the collective mood light-
ened as we made our way back down
the steep southern face of Esjan.
Hiking uphill reveals each person’s
endurance and resolve to reach the top.
Downhill hiking, on the other hand,
shows who is most likely to trip and
fall into oblivion—and who is willing
to catch them. You can tell a lot about
a person’s character while scrambling
down a mountain with them in thick
fog as darkness looms.
As one of our party members wisely
remarked, it’s not about the journey
itself, but the friends you make along
the way. We were all nodding our
agreement to this sentiment when we
suddenly dipped below the cloud line
and saw the lights of Mosfellsbær and
distant Reykjavík. Screw friendship,
this is why we came.
The sun had long ago set on a hori-
zon that was still obscured by the
hulking frame of Esjan. But the city
lights and dark waters of Faxaflói Bay
reminded us of why we came to Iceland
in the first place, whether we knew it
or not: to reconnect with nature, to be
reminded of our own insignificance in
the vast wilderness, and, yes, to make
friends who would, perhaps literally,
carry us up a mountain.
Distance from
Reykjavík:
22 kilometres
Hot Dogs and Hot
Chocolate On Esja
Testing our patience and resolve
Words: Emma Ledbetter & Asha Edmondson Photos: Joana Fontinha
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Mosfellsbær makes an appearanceHot dogs are the ultimated motivation
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