Trolls, caves, & craters (North Iceland): Day 8

We took some time today to drive around the Myvatn area and see some of the other natural features in the area.  Grjótagjá Cave was one of them.  We scrambled down the rocks carefully, and descended into the darkness.  We were greeted by a pool of glowing turquoise blue water, steam floating just above the surface.  It used to be a popular bathing site, before the eruption of Mt. Krafla between 1975-1984 caused the water to become too hot to bathe in.

Curious, we tentatively reached a hand down to touch the water - it was indeed hotter than a typical hot tub temperature, but not scalding hot.  Nevertheless, the caves are on private property and it is forbidden to bathe in them anymore, regardless.  It was eerie to stand in this cave amidst the steam and almost-glowing blue waters. 

Hverfjall in a snowstorm

Another nearby place to visit is Hverfjall, a tuff ring volcano.  This volcano crater is notable for it's almost perfectly round shape, and it holds a remarkable presence no matter where you are in the area.  We contemplated doing the 6km hike up to the crater rim and back, but the snow was falling heavily and winds were gusting, and we didn't want to end up being blown into a crater, so we decided against it.  We just admired it from afar.

Hverfjall, taken the night before the snow came

Later in the day as we headed to Akureyri, we stopped at a few other spots, including the magnificent Godafoss waterfall - horseshoe shaped and in winter, full of stunning icicles.  We also stopped to admire a small, brightly painted orange lighthouse, and I saw some very cool water birds nearby which I'll have to look up in the bird book later.

Godafoss

The highlight of the area for me, however, was Dimmuborgir.  This is a large area full of strange, mysterious lava formations spread out over kilometeres of hiking trails.  These formations came about when a volcano, about 2300 years ago, spilled lava into a lake.  The water in the lake boiled and burst through the lava, resulting in these strange formations that later hardened and remained behind.

Icelandic folklore says that this is the realm of trolls, elves, and hidden people.  As we set off on the hike, the skies were blue, with only a few clouds.  We admired the strange formations as we hiked, pausing to look closer at some of the ones with more intricate nooks and crannies.  In one particularly large one that looked like a cave, Jen started to say "where are you trolls!" but was cut off mid-sentence by suddenly slipping and loosing her footing.  As I reached out to help her re-balance, I laughed - "The trolls are playing tricks on you!"  She reached down into the snow, made a snowball and threw it at the cave.  "Don't do that!  They might throw snow back at you!" I said.  She continued down the trail and cheerfully replied, "So?  Then we'll have a snowball fight!"

 

I can't say for certain whether it was the fact that I was wearing crampons and she wasn't, or if it was really the trolls playing tricks, but I do know that she kept slipping on rocks and snow along the whole hike while I didn't have a single misstep...

About ten minutes into our hike, it quickly clouded over and snow started to fall.  Soon it was a heavy snowfall, accompanying us as we hiked.  We were the only ones on this trail, possibly one of the few times we've been truly alone while in Iceland.  

The lava formations surrounding us, the silently falling snow and the eerie occasional wind rustle made me feel as if we were in a true fairy tale land; somewhere full of myth and adventure and peril.  Time had stopped, and we were in the realm of trolls.  This was their land, not ours, and they had sent us a snowstorm.  Faintly through the wind, I could hear whispers of elves sending protection, ensuring we did not get lost.  

These imaginings and feelings swirled in my mind as we hiked, the same way the snow swirled all around me, and I was drawn into the magic of Iceland yet again.  As we approached a small archway, I couldn't help but look up at it and feel that if only we could cross through it, we'd somehow be in another world, like going through a portal to Narnia.  The formations are very delicate and brittle, which makes climbing forbidden in order to preserve these natural wonders, so I didn't get to test my hypothesis.
 

 The hike, like so many other things in Iceland, was wildly different than anything else we had experienced, and strangely mesmerizing at the same time.  As we approached the end of the hour-long loop, the snow finally let up, and blue skies returned once again.  The unpredictable Icelandic weather?  Or the trolls letting us safely pass back to the parking lot?  I'll let you decide.