This is the final post of our Icelandic trip. If you missed the others day 1 is here and day 2 is here.

A lullaby of strangers conversing around the city, accompanied by Icelandic breezes finding their way down the small streets, had Nicole and myself fast asleep after our second day. We awoke renewed, minds full of possibilities as to what more could be found in this magical country. A list of new destinations burned in our pockets. Gathering the essentials of coffee, gas, snacks, and my finest rough road skills, we set off again. A day of geysers, geographic oddities, glam horses, gusts, and the Gullfoss waterfall lay ahead.

Our destination was a national park, Thingvellir, which is home to quite a few natural wonders. The biggest of which is that it is the location where you can see the separation of the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates. Canyons fan out, forming a bed for rivers to flow into a large lake, Thingvallavatn. This lake is the largest in Iceland, and houses humongous trout. Four types of Arctic Char and mammoth brown trout to be exact. My heart breaks a little knowing that I was that close to these prized fish without a rod in hand. My consolation was that we could not stand outside for more than a few minutes without losing feeling in our faces. We retreated into the visitors center for a map and some warmth before we journeyed on.

     On our way to our next stop we passed another group of tourists who had pulled off to the side of the road to look at a string of horses snacking on feed. We had heard about the horses of Iceland. The people of Iceland are extremely proud of them. Their…proportions…are much different than what we were used to. To elaborate, it bears mentioning again that Iceland is windy. The fauna has adapted to it, growing low and sturdy against the ground. The horses themselves are stout. It is quite rude to equate them to ponies or otherwise poke fun at their height (or lack thereof.)

How could you be mean to a face like this?

After seeing these creatures firsthand, we could not have been more enchanted by them. First off, they were friendly and ate out of our hands, absent a handler or any reason other than just for the sake of being kind. I went into this whole thing not being a big fan of horses. We had a bad experience in Hawaii where our horses would not follow directions and kept biting each other. These horses were actually grooming each other for a time.

Both the horse and myself are standing on equal ground in this picture. You draw whatever conclusions you want from this fact.

Secondly, these animals have also made lemonade out of the lemony wind Iceland has dealt them. Blessed locks of voluminous manes fan out in the harsh winds. Enviable fails to describe it. Otherworldly maybe. I felt like at any moment a group of them could have manifested guitars and a pyrotechnic drum set, spontaneously revisiting an 80’s hair metal top 40 hit.

What I am saying is, we adored this Motley Crue of pack animals. They were entertaining enough to Warrant the time we spent there. Beautiful enough to Kiss. Unfortunately, staying there meant less time to see other sights, so we had to Ramble On to our next place.

We continued down the road. More and more of Iceland unfolded in front of us, rewarding us at every turn with new sights to see. Eventually, we started to perceive a strong, sulfuric smell in the air. Soon, we were pulling into the parking lot and looking up towards a hill alive with both color, heat, and spouts of groundwater. We had arrived at Haukadalur valley, home of a collection of geysers including Strokkhur geyser. One one side of the road is an open area, roped off where the conditions are too dangerous for people to tread. The other side of the road has a large resort/rest area/collection of shops. Coming to such a popular destination during the off season for tourism afforded us the opportunity to see much more of these geysers without wading through crowds. We saddled up to the rope and peered into the ground, looking down into a mineral crusted entry into the earth. The water was crystal clear and radiant. the backdrop was a sprawling desert with rolling hills.

We avoided the main attraction at first, which was not easy considering it is the literal centerpiece of the park. A small crowd gathered to watch Strokkhur’s eruption. Coming every 6-20 minutes, the geyser erupts suddenly, violently shooting water anywhere from 15m (50 feet) up to 40m (130 feet). Our front row seat rewarded us with an average eruption. Without warning the water burst upward, resulting in a thick cloud of steam that left all of us blind to anyone around us. The crowd immediately called out with sounds of mild fear and serious amazement, as I looked around for Nicole who was no where to be seen. When the cloud gave way, I was greeted to the beaming face of my love. Such a treat.

 

We were lucky. Our experience was mostly mist and the return of water to the land missed us. The following eruption however was closer to the 130 foot variety. We were a considerable distance away from it, and heard the reactions of many newly soaked tourists. Many walked off defeated, seeking out dry clothes to insulate them once more against the Icelandic weather.

Satisfied with what we had seen, we pressed on to our next scheduled stop, Gullfoss waterfall. The waterfall is not something you can drive past, its view obscured from the road. We drove down into a valley, and it was not until we took a sharp left into the parking lot that we were able to take in even a portion of the falls. This is mainly due to the fact that the falls are where the Hvita river changes direction abruptly, dividing into multiple sections before it continues on. The weather had been fair the majority of the day, and we avoided the soaking of Strokkhur. This place sought to humble us once more. The wind here was incredible. In the valley, we were careful to not be pushed off course as we approached this breathtaking sight. The wind went into overdrive once we ascended the stairs and left the shelter of the valley. Like the main dance scene from Michael Jackson’s Bad, we crept forth on our toes, leaning into the wind so that we could progress forth without immediately introducing our backsides into the walkway. Our reward for our smooth ways was a waterfall that seemed to redefine itself from every angle. From below, it looks like one solid face of roaring white. Gaining altitude revealed how the water comes down in steps, a swirling triangular pool with no set flow or direction. The sound of wind and water muted all but the most persistent of exclamations. A mantra of nature, calming your mind and opening your eyes.

 

We walked along the path above the falls for a bit, but the valley is so deep that it is difficult to see most of the river. Plus, we would inevitably be knocked down by wind. It only became more powerful the farther we went. I am not used to being pushed around by anything, so it was truly humbling to know that nature could, at will, take my feet out from under me and play a cruel game of “stop hitting yourself.”

Kind of like this, except less “picturesque” and more “my seat has been handily grounded.”

On our way back, we decided to take the road less traveled. We found a longer way home that would take us around more of the park. We saw more geysers in the distance that fueled a hotels sauna, a couple dams for hydroelectric power, and a black sand beach by a lake. The latter was enough to get us to stop for a while. We finally caught our breath in the bosom of this valley, its tranquility and shelter perfectly timed.

We will not soon forget this island. I smile from ear to ear recalling the time we spent here. There is so much more to see and do. Fish to be caught. Glaciers to be hiked. Food to be sampled and people to be met. See you soon Iceland, and thank you for your gifts.

 

We made a trip video, shown below. It has a song from one of our favorite artists, Kaleo. They are from Iceland, and the song is sung in Icelandic. Here is the translation:

Vor í Vaglaskógi (Spring in Vaglaskogur)

The night is ours
Spring in the wood of skies
We head to the heath with our tent, where the berries grow
Take me, dear friend to the mirth of yesterdays
Where our creek runs free and the birch will blow

Light in the mountains
Scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow

The dew comes forth
Our valley is swept with peace
Our dreams come true, who sleep in the wood of skies
On the berry hearth, the last touch of sunlight dies
And the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow

Light in the mountains
Scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow

Light in the mountains
Scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow
The wind is counting your hair