heating, boiling and then suddenly
spouts with an explosive gasp, projecting
steaming liquid to a height of about 60100 feet. Quite a performance, you only
have to wait 10 minutes for it to happen
all over again.
After an overnight stay in adjoining log
cabins across the road from the geyser,
we revisited the Gullfoss Falls, enjoying
them all the more under sunshine and
blue skies. This time we descended
the steep path to get up close and
personal, experiencing the deafening
roar of the water and feeling spray on
our faces. Little worry about health and
safety at this site, a simple flimsy rope
and warning sign was the only thing
separating people from the swirling
water.
We then set off on a marathon drive
across the unsealed road, impassable
during winter, across what can only be
described as a moonscape. No trees,
no bushes, seemingly no living things
except little trios of sheep dotted here
and there, often quite close to the road.
We discovered the reason for this some
hours later.
It’s a good thing we are a pretty easygoing foursome and enjoy each others’
company and tastes in music because
3 hours later we were still only half way
to our next accommodation at Heydalur
in the Westfjords area. The skies were
still blue and clear, but the air decidedly
chillier now as we drew ever closer to a
startlingly massive range of mountains,
streaked with ice and snow and, on the
distant horizon, the mysterious, frozen
flow of a glacier, glowing painfully brightly
in the sun.
After a brief stop in the wilderness)
we checked the map and, on a whim,
headed off the main road and up into
the mountains. Here, it was rumoured in
days gone by, gangs of outlaws lived in a
kind of tropical paradise, hidden between
the peaks no outlaw hide-outs were
ever discovered, however a land of Hot
Springs and bubbling mud revealed itself
when explorers finally plucked up the
courage to investigate.
As we drove higher and higher, up an
increasingly winding and narrow dirt
track, we started to wonder if this was
such a good idea. Signs indicated a
hostel was somewhere ahead and it was
a relief finally to come across tents, a few
cabins and the promised hostel where
hardy mountaineering types looked us
up and down in our amateur jackets and
footwear. Feeling a bit out of place we
pressed on, driving higher still, eventually
reaching a rough parking area on a small
plateau surrounded by spectacular peaks
and valleys. Several all-terrain vehicles
and an “extreme adventure experiences”
truck were already there and a path led
to the edge of a steep ridge where it
seemed to simply stop in mid air. Maybe
that should have given me a clue. My
intrepid husband and sons strode off
and, peering down over the edge,
beckoned me to catch up. I caught my
breath, it was like looking down into a
scene from Lord of the Rings and I half
expected to see Frodo Baggins battling
his way to Mordor. Almost vertical
cliffs streaked with multiple shades
of grey, brown, silver, blue and with
pockets of snow and ice, surrounded
a deep, sheltered valley. The only way
to descend (and of course ascend) was
by navigating a steep zigzag of wooden
steps with no handrail, I repeat, no
handrail. With the cold wind now picking
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