Day Six: Hiking the Highands of Iceland

I am sure that there is a whole lot more of Iceland we have yet to discover, but our time has come to an end. Today we took a hike in the Highlands in a town called Husafell. It took us to the confluence of two rivers, one a crystal clear glacier river and the other a silica laden river that was the color of ash. The two remained separate until the silica river overcame the crystal river and turned both grey. Oh, and yes, there was a small waterfall…

Last night we soaked in a mineral hotpot, as hot springs are called here. We didn’t have the right method of payment and the people at checkin let us in on our word we would come back and pay in the morning. To keep good karma, we showed up at 13:00 and they had forgotten that we were coming back to pay the $25 or so dollars. The people in this country are so friendly, accommodating, and trusting, we couldn’t, in good conscience, not pay the 2.700 kir for our entrance.

We are off to our last campsite in Reykjavik. It is always sad when a trip comes to an end. I love everything about this country. It’s people, the scenery and the peacefulness. As we drove along the highways back to Reykjavik we traveled from the inland and back through the coastal mountains. The storm that had blown out of the highlands had not broken its hold on the coast yet.

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The incredible sights of the clouds shrouding the mountains and pouring over the tops like waterfalls was awe inspiring. The clouds would pour over and swirl back up to the heavens creating a graceful wave. It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen. The wind was blowing over these mountains and blasting down the slopes and across the road making it a two handed drive all the way back out to the peninsula.

Siri took us right to the campsite and we checked in. These campsites are a brilliant idea. If I had a country to run I’d model the common areas as campsites. The people that come to them are from all over the world. The commonness is the desire to discover new worlds, share experiences and knowledge. There are shared kitchens, bathrooms, showers and of course WIFI. We all claim our space and go about our own experience in the common spaces. If you are open you can meet some very interesting people. It is a broadening of ideas by like minded people.

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I think this is the way to experience Iceland. At every camp, those that are ending their adventure leave all sorts of treasures; half empty fuel cans, jackets, tarps, unused food items, toiletries, blankets and various other sundries. For those traveling on a tight budget these are gold mines. We contributed our half used fuel cans, food items like condiments, to the one here at our last camp just as we took similar items from the camp when we started our trip.

Camping in Iceland is a caring, sharing, and multi-cultural event.

Day Four: Iceland The West Fjords

We woke today to rain… imagine that. We parked our camper van in a field at the campground in Vik, that was already saturated when we arrived. Overnight, however, more campers arrived and have turned the field into a soupy mess. We are planning our exit strategy so we don’t end up axles buried in mud. If and when we get out of here we are heading north west, back along the Ring Road to the beautiful West Fjords.

 

We planned on stopping back at Ku Ku Campers and seeing if they had a mobile WIFI available, since they were out when we left and I have a perpetual headache from trying to read the maps, yes plural. After driving through Reykjavik and getting horribly lost, we went into the gas station we knew had free wifi and googled directions. We were in luck and picked up the small device and we were PLUGGED IN!

So the biggest problem with driving through Iceland is the beauty. OK… beauty is a problem? Oh yes… There are so many waterfalls, cliffs and quaint little homes built right into the sides of mountains with dirt and grass covering the roofs. There are rock formations, crashing waves, black sand beaches and bird colonies. The thing that has struck us the most is the cleanliness. The roads are beautifully paved, although quite narrow. The little towns have horse farms, fluffy lambs and each home has its own waterfall. The mountains bleed waterfalls.

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We took out time and enjoyed little unplanned stop-offs. We drove through a three km tunnel under the ocean and onto an island. We had Siri telling us the way (ok Garmin) as we entered each little town and crossroad. The immensity of this little island just can’t be understood until you are actually exploring her byways.

We arrived at camp pretty late and settled in. The rain had finally let up and we saw blue sky. We had one of those fire logs and lit it and pretended we were having a fire. Then off to bed.

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Icelandic Horses: A Breed of Its Own

A small island deserves a small horse! The Icelandic ponies are actually horses. Though short in stature, usually between 13 and 15 hands, they are registered by breeders as a horse. This small horse is a very hardy breed and suffer from far less diseases than a mainland horse. The law does not let these small guys to be exported and no other breeds to be imported. If one ever were to leave the island, they are never allowed to return, ensuring the purity of this majestic breed.

The Icelandic horse has even been a focal point in many Norse Myths. They were thought to be a symbol of fertility so they often were sacrificed by early Norse settlers. The horses were revered by warriors during the Medieval period and were often made to fight each other for breeding rights. A warrior killed in battle would often be sent to Valhalla with his Nobel Steed by his side.

Natural selection often played a role in these stallions lives. In the early medieval times the horses would starve or succumb to the brutal winter winds and cold. Exposure to the elements, notwithstanding volcanic eruptions, famine and sacrifice, often became the end to whole herds. The breed was once thought descendent from the Shetland, Faroe Pony and the Norwegian Fjord horse. In the early 9th century, the Icelandic Parliament prohibited the inbreeding of outside horses. This act in 992 AD lead eventually to a pure breed. For over 1,000 years the Icelandic horse has been a pure breed.

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The characteristic flowing mane, short legs, well proportioned head, incredible weight bearing capacities, muscular shoulders and slightly sloping long backs, make this an incredibly valuable prized possession. The breed has an average life span of 30 good years, with recorded life spans of over 50 years. They are known for having two distinctive gaits, the Tölt, which is a four beat stride good for comfortably covering great distances at explosive accelerations. The second is called flugskeið or “flying pace”. This is a fast and smooth gait used to pace the horse during a race. This is mostly used for short bursts but not a long distance run. An amazing breed indeed.

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A trip on the back of an Icelandic is a great way to explore the terrain of Iceland. The horse is sure-footed and fearless, yet comfortable to ride, even for the beginner. There are numerous farms that offer guests this pleasurable past time. There is nothing like getting up into the wilds of the highlands on the back of one of these majestic steeds.

When in Iceland, search out a farm offering tours and ride one of these wild and adventurous horses. These are treasured companions and loyal servants. They have earned their place in the past and future of Iceland.