The sign for Gothafoss:
Gothafoss Waterfall was amazing. It wasn’t wide or tall, but it was pretty. Like many other attractions, there were no level paths leading to view points or even rails preventing you from going over the edge. Simone climbed across to a fairly large rock overlooking the falls but Mom and I stayed well back and took pictures from afar.
A full view of the falls:
Above the falls:
After the photo op at Gothafoss we got back on the road. We blasted past Lake Myvatn, not realizing that there were only a couple of places where you could pull off to admire it. As we were hurtling down the road at 110 km/h I saw a small sign to the right and managed to read “Dimm...” I slammed on the breaks and turned around. The sign was for Dimmuborgir lava park, the next attraction on the day’s itinerary. We turned the Yaris onto the unassuming dirt road and headed up the hill. As we rounded a corner a large parking lot appeared, along with a large building housing washrooms, a gift shop, and – most importantly – a café that served fresh-brewed coffee. Simone and Mom hadn’t had their morning caffeine fix so they were in desperate need.
After they had their coffee we headed down the trail into the lava park. It was like walking into Mordor. I took so many pictures that I nearly drained my camera battery. We spent about 45 minutes walking around the park. We could have spent hours there, since some paths covered kilometers of the park. However, we had to press on so we returned to the car to continue our journey.
I wish I had a better lens. This just doesn't capture the vastness of Dimmuborgir:
Rock and sky:
Simone sitting on the rock throne:
In the land of Mordor:
Mom was sad because we didn’t stop at Lake Myvatn, so after consulting the map and discussing our schedule, we decided we could afford to turn around and head back to the lake. As we approached the first view point we were absolutely gob-smacked to see 5 tour buses and about 30 cars parked there, and at least 150 people walking around the hills above the lake. That’s when we realized we’d missed another attraction – the Skutustathir pseudo craters which line the banks of the lake. We found a place to park and then headed down the path with all of the other tourists.
I led us slightly astray by taking the right branch of a path instead of the left. We eventually realized we’d passed the crater that we wanted to see and turned back. As we walked up the path to the lip of the crater we mingled with a gaggle of Italian tourists from one of the tour buses. They were absolutely astounded to see me walking along in sandals, shorts, and a t-shirt. They were all bundled up in sub-zero parkas, pants, hiking boots, and toques. I could see how they might need a few more layers because they’re so used to warm temperatures. However, I thought the parkas and toques were overkill.
Tourists standing on the edge of the pseudo-crater:
"Look, rocks!":
By the time we finished touring the pseudo craters we were all feeling a bit peckish. I consulted the map and saw that there was an N1 gas station at the turn off to Egillstathir. We decided to stop there to grab a quick and cheap lunch. However, when we pulled in to the gas station it was clear that it didn’t have the large cafeteria that we were used to. Instead, it had a small supermarket. I wanted something substantial for lunch so I made the executive decision to drive on to the next group of buildings to see if we could find a café. We did find a café, but once inside we vetoed having lunch there because of the outrageous prices.
Back at the supermarket we were inspecting the grim selection of baked goods and pre-packaged sandwiches when I noticed a board on the counter advertising burgers, fries, hot dogs, and paninis. Bingo! I ordered the burger and fries, Simone ordered a panini, and Mom ordered a hot dog – all for less than $20.
According to the Hostelling Iceland itinerary there were no more attractions along the road to Seythisfjorthur. However, when we descended from a mountain pass we saw a huge parking lot full of tour buses and cars, and we knew we needed to stop and take a look.
The parking lot was for the Namafjall geothermal hot springs. These weren’t nice hot springs, but rather boiling mud holes giving off noxious gases. The wind was strong so thankfully the gases were whisked away quickly. I’d hate to visit the site on a windless day. Peee-ew! Nonetheless it was worth the stop and we did get some amazing photos of steaming earth painted yellow and blue by minerals.
Lovely-looking mud hole:
Steam rising from the ground:
We spent the rest of the afternoon burning up kilometers in the Yaris. We made it to Egillstathir around 2:30pm. Egillstathir is the capital of East Iceland. It has about 1,500 inhabitants and is one of the newest cities in the country. We had decided against staying there because it lacked much history or culture. Instead, we had booked a room at the hostel in Seythisfjorthur, an historic fishing and trading village located about 45 km away on the edge of a fjord.
We turned onto the road to Seythisfjorthur and it soon became clear that to get to the village we’d have to drive over a mountain pass. About halfway up the mountain we ascended into a cloudbank. The rest of the ride was somewhat miserable because I could only see 10 m ahead of me at the best of times, the road was twisty, and the inclines were butt-clenchingly steep. I was very relieved to descend into the valley and turn off onto the road leading to the hostel.
The hostel was described on the Hostelling Iceland site as funky and artsy. They forgot to mention that it is also old, with thin walls, and creaky bunkbeds. Oh, well. I liked the somewhat slap-dab look of the place and the homey furnishings.
View from the hostel to the fjord:
Waterfalls and fog on the mountain behind the hostel:
The authors of the Lonely Planet guide books raved about the arts and crafts in Seythisfjorthur, so we were eager to get out and explore the shops in town. We asked when the shops closed and received a somewhat quizzical look before learning that they closed at 6pm. I looked up a couple of shops in the Lonely Planet guide book and we headed off.
I got a bit turned about in town but we eventually found the Skaftafell Cultural Center, which was described as the artistic hub of the community. We discovered that it also had a bistro/café on the ground floor. We walked through the bistro/café to the gallery and were quite taken aback by the crappy installation artwork. I should have taken a picture of the main “piece” – it literally looked like someone had had explosive diarrhea all over the wall, ceiling, and floor.
We left the gallery and drove around looking for other craft shops. We spotted a “handicrafts” sign and pulled in to check it out. The gallery side of the room was okay, with lots of abstract landscape paintings. However, the crafts side of the room was disappointing. Imagine the worst crochet, the ugliest beadwork, and the most old-fashioned knitwear you can. Then add the smell of a second-hand store and the mismatched tables from a church basement, and you’ve got the picture.
Our final stop in town was a small room off a woman’s house. She was actually selling some very sophisticated wool clothing, leather handbags, and silver jewelry. The problem was the cost. Not everyone can afford to spend $300 on a wool jumper.
We hit up the supermarket on the way home and scoped out dinner options. The selection was limited and I ended up buying a small bag of pasta to cook up with a package of Alfredo sauce that Mom brought from home. Back at the hostel we showered, unpacked, and then headed to the kitchen and dining room for dinner. My pasta dinner was rather tasty, and easy to cook in the tiny kitchen.
After dinner Mom and I watched “The Darjeeling Limited” on the computer while Simone read a book. We all hit the sack around 9pm, tired from the long day. We set the alarm for 6:30am because the next day we had to cover 500+ kilometers and we wanted to make sure we had enough time to get to our destination and to visit attractions along the way.
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