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"Are you scared?" we both ask each other. We both say no, but it's of course a lie. There's a lot of snow blowing, and it appears to be getting worse. There's really nowhere to pull off, no side roads to turn onto, nowhere to seek shelter. Just endless mountains, an open road, and so. much. snow.
After what seems like an infinity of this, our destination feels nowhere nearer, and now it starts to snow shower from above, as well as the blowing snow. There's a car ahead of us, and several behind us. Everyone's going slowly, and everyone has their flashers on. The repetitive tick of the flashers, the predictable and life-saving yellow bars periodically marking the edges of the roadway, and the never-ending whiteness, put us both into a focused trance. All we can do is focus on the road and keep going foward.
***
Eventually, the snow and wind relent somewhat, and we can see the road again. Visibly relieved, Jen finally reaches for her coffee to take a sip.
"Too bad we don't have any Baileys," I say, not joking.
Since the roads appear to be somewhat better, we decide to drive up to Dettifoss, Europe's most powerfull waterfall. it's not a far detour from our final location for the day (Myvatn), so we turn up the road and start the drive. Of course as we're driving, more blowing snow and snow showers begin... at least this time, visibilty is slightly better, and seeing as there's no way to turn around anyway, we continue forward.
Once we reach the car park, we put on our crampons to make the 1km icy walk to try and catch a glimpse of Dettifoss. Of course it's blizzarding at this point, but we persevere. Marking the path through the blinding white are tall sticks painted in red. Without them, we'd be lost in the wilds of the mountains. I lead the way this time, eyes focused on those red sticks, blowing snow in my eyes making it difficult to see. The path is ice, but the crampons thankfully make that easy for us. Finding the path, at times, proves difficult due to the blowing snow drifts, and we occasionally step foot into a deep snow pile before orienting ourselves.
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| Dettifoss |
Finally we reach the viewing platform for Dettifoss. We can hear it more than we can see it - 193 cubic metres per second of crashing water, roaring through the blizzard. "This is amazing," I say to Jen as I lean over the fence and try to catch a glimpse of the falls through the snow and the mist. Iceland is not your typical tourist destination - the weather is unpredictable, and nature does not always cooperate to provide you with picture-postcard experiences. Iceland requires patience, flexibility, and a willingness to immerse yourself in what is happening, rather than what you expected.
I didn't care that I could barely see Dettifoss - I could glimpse it when the wind blew the right way. I could hear it, drowing out all other sounds around me. I could feel the strength of the wind trying to blow through me, as my warm layers protected every part of my body except my cheeks and eyes. Swirling snow surrounded me and the falls, and I was completely immersed in the experience. This is Iceland. This is the way I was meant to experience Dettifoss. And it's wonderful.
***
After hiking back to our car, we continued on to Hverir, a large geothermal area. As we approached, we could smell the all-too-familiar sulfur, and knew we were in the right place. The blizzard was suddenly gone, and the sun was shining. We walked around large pools of bubbling brown mud, large cracks in the earth full of boiling black water, and steaming vents of all shapes and sizes. The slippery, orange-brown mud stuck to our boots as we walked around, fascinated. It felt as if we were walking around an alien land. We had seen geothermal areas in New Zealnd, too, but this was different. There were no protective fences, no signs, no paved paths. Just a few metal rods holding up ropes to guide you away from the hottest places. Other than that, you were on your own. Even the mountains had steam coming out of them, high above us. Utterly alien.
Today was a day of ice and fire.
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| Steam coming from the mountains |
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| Steaming fumarole |
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| Steaming fumarole |
***
After Hverir, we drove ten more minutes down to our final destination for the night, Myvatn. After another quick stop in the grocery store for bread (we've tried three in the past few days; we can't figure out why every single place is sold out of bread), we headed to Myvatn Nature Baths.
Sometimes referred to as "The Blue Lagoon of North Iceland", the Myvatn hot baths are a refreshing alternative to the sometimes crowded and touristy but more well-known Blue Lagoon.
We paid our entry fee, headed to the change rooms (yes, you have to shower naked, BUT, they had two private stalls which we waited our turn to use), and then back outdoors in just our swimsuits. The cold air hit me right away, and I quickly went down the steps to the beautiful turquoise blue waters I saw in front of me. The heat of the water instantly soothed every part of my freezing cold body. Jen and I slowly swam around in wonder at the soft feel of the warm water, the steam rising off the surface, and the stunning picturesque scene of being in a hot turquoise lagoon surrounded by snow-covered mountains.
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| Myvatn Nature Baths |
We spent almost two hours in the pool, relaxing, letting the stress and tensions of today's driving wash away; letting the mineral-rich water soak into our skin, and simply enjoying be-ing. There was nothing to do, nothing to see. Our only task was to give ourselves up to the soothing warmth, and let our spirits slowly sink into it.
Through it all, I couldn't help but think of the rune from yesterday. As I floated in the pristine hot waters, I reflected that perhaps this experience wouldn't feel so fulfilling, so deeply soothing, had we not experienced the blowing snow, the blizzards, the ice, the confusion, of earlier today.
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| Myvatn Nature Baths |
These are deep lessons, and I've only just begun to scratch the surface.
Can't wait to see what Iceland will teach me tomorrow.
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