The first thing you notice about Iceland is the fences – there aren’t any. Ive been watching over an hour’s worth of countryside roll by so far and I’ve yet to see a single one. Though it makes sense I suppose – all these rocks aren’t going to go anywhere. I’ll admit that I’ve never been to the moon but if I had I would be feeling pretty nostalgic, the landscape in this part of the country is literally like being on another planet, and I haven’t even got to the inhabitants yet. Then there’s the weather. The fog is like the apprentice of the night, subbing in for the four hours in which daylight gets its chance, as if to bequeath as much inferiority onto the souls beneath as possible. It’s no wonder you can see the depression seeping gradually into every pore of the people who dwell here. The fact that for most of the day you can’t actually see anything (except between 11 and 3) means that any sightseeing agenda has to be precisely planned, the complete opposite of the middle of summer when you can go out and tick everything off in a day then relax with a beer to enjoy the midnight sun. It is the mystique of the landscape and lure of the northern lights however, which places an Icelandic winter in a class of beauty all of it’s own.
Now what this country lacks in fences it more than makes up in waterfalls, and I’m sweet with that. In search of inland glaciers we navigated valleys whose sides were completely lined with a dynamic wallpaper of streaming water, in stripes of no more that 50 yards wide. Unfortunately when our corolla rental car came up against the inland road conditions, the road conditions won but we instead continued to venture East to check out, yeah more waterfalls, and the progressive backward town of Vis, where a man couldn’t even get a cup of coffee, let alone a bed to sleep in. Right so there goes the original plan- seems like in winter in Icelend the total list of towns with open hostels/hotels is: Reykjavík.
On day 2 came the snow, which transformed the barren brown landscape into a barren white one, as we headed over the pass and made our way inland towards gullfoss and geysir – the geyser after which all geysers take their name. And it’s pretty impressive, though that’s only an assumption as we never quite made it to either. Instead we struck a snow storm on the road and to make a short story shorter, ended up rolling the car and landing upside down in a stream of freezing cold water. I wasn’t driving (that was an aussie so yeah, I know hah) but was in the front passenger seat and miraculously the only injury sustained with four of us in the car was a cut finger. That’s how I roll (ok terrible joke I should really omit that). Oh and one cracked elbow as simon was getting into the ambulance, maybe he felt obliged I don’t really know. So what do tourists do when they roll their car into a stream in below zero conditions, its snowing and they’re in the middle of nowhere? Well they take photos of course!
Yeah the rolla definitely lived up to its name (oh will the terrible jokes never end!).
And don’t worry we’re all ok except a lost glove, knife, and guidebook.
I say that travelling is, more than anything, about experiences. It is not the places you snap photos off of, the quality of coffee at the hostel (though never underestimate the importance of this – it warrants its own category), but about the experiences you have and who you have them with. And so although our sightseeing mission was cut short, the trip was far from cut short. For anything which gains us an experience is gain itself. And your car upside down in a stream? We’ll it’s no big set back anyway, so an hour and a half, and a ride in an ambo later, we were back on the road with a whole new piece of metal to thrash – a mighty Suzuki swift. Just the name makes me drool hah. And our road trip was back underway to Pingveller National Park, where those smart Viking blokes set up the worlds first democracy at Alping in 930. But wait! just when it couldn’t possibly get more exciting, this place is also the fight spot of the North American and Eurasian plates as they are pulling apart, and consequently ripping little Iceland straight out of the Atlantic. Maui would be proud.
So what’s cooler than standing on the boundary of two different countries? The boundary of two different continental plates. This rift continues for miles across Iceland and has caused ruptures in the surface all around the place, which if you have by chance got a dry suit stuffed in your day bag somewhere, can go diving in with unsurpassed visibility. We, on the other hand, opted for the slightly warmer alternative - the blue lagoon. This amazing geothermal pool has been created in an old lava field and apart from chillaxing in the azure water theres also the chance to rub some ice cold skin enriching silica all over your face and run around scaring people, or chill with a sauna or steamroom, or massage your crook neck in a 10 ft waterfall. good times.
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