Akureyri to Mývatn_travel notes 7

August 17th

Total distance covered: 290 km | 180 miles

 

Goðafoss (Waterfall of the Gods) is on the Skjálfandafljót River, directly off Route 1. This massive horseshoe-shaped falls drops around 40 feet and spans almost 100 feet in width. The name of the falls originates from Þorgeir Þorkelsson Ljósvetningagoði (yes, that is one name). He was the Icelandic lawspeaker who was faced with the enormous task of settling the growing disputes between Christians and Pagans at the Alþingi in the year 1000 A.D. After meditating on this issue, Þorgeir Þorkelsson Ljósvetningagoði, a pagan priest himself, declared Christianity the official religion of Iceland, although he also suggested that Pagans could still practice their religion in private. As the story goes, upon returning from Þingvellir and after making this monumental religious decision, he threw his pagan idol into this waterfall. Names of places in Iceland are often derived from story or legend.

 

Namafjall (the east side of the ridge) is part of Hverir, an extremely active geothermal field. Stepping out of the car, a strong sulphurous smell filled the air. We noticed this rotten-egg smell at other areas of geothermal activity, but the intensity here was unsurpassed. Looking at the horizon, it didn’t take long to figure out where this smell was coming from: clouds of steam and fumes were continuously spouting from this tumultuous land. This ground was truly alive; alive with heat, sound, movement, and smell (probably taste too, but I didn’t go that far). All of my senses were heightened in this environment. The vivid colors and textures of the ground were absolutely incredible. Respect, fascination, and curiosity for the earth resounded in fellow visitor’s faces. The mudpots made lovely, viscous gurgling sound, and fumaroles expelled hot and smelly steam that engulfed those in close proximity. Slow gurgles, fast spouts, soft blurps, hissing screams, warm dense air, and steaming hot vapors all added layers to this incredibly rich environment. At times it seemed as if everything stopped. A large spout of steam erupted and filled the void as the hissing sound boomed, reverberated, and dominated all airwaves and thought for a brief moment.

A series of pathways and hikes provide visitors the opportunity to explore this wildly active terrain from different perspectives. We hiked up, and around the ridge of the main “hotspot”. Taking this smaller path provided a high vantage point; people below appeared as small dots in a field of immense steam, color, and movement. As we climbed up above the most active part of this geothermal field, the massive context in which it sat became apparent. Surrounding this area was a vast sea of older, darker, lava. How old was that lava field? Was there lichen in the lava field which would reveal the age to someone experienced in Icelandic lichenology? Do lava fields go through succession (like our forests at home)? This hour-long trek also provided us the opportunity to view and explore the landscape in relative solitude. Somehow, this separation from the masses, gave my mind more time to process the phenomena taking place around me. I noticed the wind change course. Below the steam clouds reflected this movement, yet engulfing a different group of visitors, on the other side. The colors, so prominent in this land, told me a story. I am sure I have only touched the surface, but this is what I observed: whites, yellows and greens surrounded steamy vents; greys filled more liquid areas like mudpots; reds, browns and yellows colored the surrounding sandy terrain; blacks and browns took the form of harder material, rock, often higher up on the ridge. All these colors had their own distinct place, yet at the same time they all melded together to create this landscape of wonder.

 

I quickly snapped back into reality upon returning from our hike. The car’s engine wouldn’t turn over. I had left the headlights on. With all this potential energy steaming up from the surrounding ground, I found it somewhat amusing that I couldn’t tap into any of it. I felt powerless. As it turns out, our car problem introduced us to some other extremely helpful and friendly tourists. With one Italian grandfather leading the way, his German grandson, and three other strong-bodied Frenchmen, who had “just done this themselves”, provided the much needed power to push-start our little manual car.

It wasn’t surprising when, a few miles down the road from the extremely active Namafjall area, we came upon the turn to the Krafla Power Station. Due to our dead battery we decided it was best to take a spin out into the lava field and give the car battery a chance to recharge. This drive provided time for us to fill our bellies and make a small sign to stick on the steering wheel “TURN OFF LIGHTS”. Driving past Krafla Power station, we were able us to see the masses of clouds hovering over the plant. It was no secret where the energy from this ground was being tapped into. Steam clouds flapped in the wind as white flags of surrender marking these areas from miles around.

Krafla Power Station was massive. Steam, pipes, buildings, and bore hole coverings visually dominated the surrounding terrain. While I have done some research on harnessing geothermal power, the scale of this plant was completely overwhelming. Impressive. Scary. Machine-like. What planet is this? Wait, how did those sheep get there? What is actually happening? Where does this all go? Powerlines + Pipes?

We slowly rolled the car through the main vehicular artery of this complicated infrastructure. Where the pipes met the road, they rose up, creating a piped gateway. At points, I pulled off the larger road to let cars pass and to take photographs. There were plenty of smaller roads leading out into this pipe-scape, but a yellow sign “starfsmenn aðeins” cautioned us. While I wasn’t sure exactly what this signs said, it was not inviting. We later translated these words to English. We learned they mean “employees only”. It turns out I had the guessed right. While it was easy to drive along the main road and “see” this impressive plant, stopping and getting information proved to be another issue. In all of our lollygagging on this main road, we did not see one worker. Where were all the people? Before we knew it the plant had passed, the pipes were starting to run into the distance and the larger buildings were behind us. We came upon a parking area from which numerous hiking trails dispersed. We pulled off the road for a view over what we had just experienced and a moment to reflect. Before we were able to reflect, we were greeted by the same Italian grandfather and German grandson who had saved us from our ‘dead’ battery dilemma. They invited us to join them in visiting Detifoss. It was after the “most powerful waterfall in all of Europe,” exclaimed the Italian grandfather. 

 

Detifoss provided the chance to see yet another massive, extrodinary waterfall. When we arrived at the falls it had begun to sprinkle and grey mist saturated the air. The grandson and I walked quickly with anticipation, speaking to one another of our Icelandic travel experiences. As we approached the falls the grey mist was thick and he asked, “Do you think we’ll be able to see it?” If we couldn’t see it, we certainly would be able to feel and hear it. The roar of this powerful waterfall had called to us as soon as we stepped out of our vehicles, and its raging voice only intensified as we reached the falls. There, in the grey-brown mist, thundering torrents of brown water cascaded over a 150-foot drop. Spanning over 300 feet in width, Detifoss is said to have an average water flow of 633 ft3/s. That’s a LOT of water! The waterfall is located on the Jökulsá á Fjöllum River that flows from the Vatnajökull glacier. We were witnessing an enormous exchange of water: from glacier to sea. 

 

Mývatn Nature Baths provided the perfect opportunity to relax after a chilly, wet and full day. Being in these warm, aqua-blue waters was as magical as these pictures appear. For the most part I didn’t speak with anyone; I just wanted to absorb this entire environment. The blue I had been drawn to around the hissing vents in the soil now colored the water that filled this enormous pool. Minerals and silicates from below the earth’s surface were working not only to rejuvenate the body, but also the mind.

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2 thoughts on “Akureyri to Mývatn_travel notes 7

  1. As a teacher of young children, I’m always relating my travel experiences to that of a child who is learning to make sense of the world around her. Hmmm, reading Icelandic. The words are often so long that at first I was only getting to the first part as we zipped by road signs, even studying them on the map, I couldn’t begin to pronounce them. And if I couldn’t say it, I couldn’t seem to remember it!
    It took me several days to learn to scan those long Icelandic place names. A couple of days ago a lady in Akureyri explained some of the pronounciation to me and helped me practice a bit. Our guidebook helped us figure out the word parts, and now I’m reading them fairly easily. For example, a word ending in -foss is a waterfall, a word ending in -stadir is a farm, one ending in -fjall a mountain and -fjordur a fjord. So Petreksfjordurstadir is quickly scanned in three chunks, Patrick’s fjord farm… piece of cake!

    I found the waterfalls in Iceland amazing, they are many with no trees in the way, mostly the water is very clear and reflecting beautiful colors but also because you can get so close. If you look carefully at Kelly’s photos you’ll notice an almost complete absence of rails. You can go almost anywhere you want and if you fall in… well, I guess that’s your problem. Most signage is about protecting the environment. Personal safety is one’s own responsibility (and if there is a sign about danger, pay attention because they mean it!).

    The whole area around Namafjall was other-worldly. I walked around envisioning science-fiction movies being flimed there. It was a misty day and the steam coming from the mudpots and fumeroles contributed to the dampness. We hiked up and around the small but steep, mountain, the surface of which was a reddish clay-like soil. We had headed up the steeper side, luckily it seemed, because people that we met coming down that side were sliding in the slippery mud and having a hard time staying on their feet. However, our feet soon became completely caked with mud, making the steep ascent exhausting for an old lady like me. Whenever we came to a rock we’d try to scrape a couple pounds of it off each foot, but in a few steps it’d be right back. Even going downhill wasn’t easy.

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