Day 2: The Land of Fire and Ice

I’m writing this a day late, as I lie inside my sleeping bag—my roommates beginning to stir inside our little mountain hut.

There are clothes hanging everywhere, including from an improvised clothes line devised last night in an effort to get our soaked clothes to dry.

Our first official day on the Laugavegur trail was nothing short of epic. At fifteen miles long it is billed as the longest and hardest day of the trek, including well over 3,000 feet of elevation gain.

The first half was stunning, breathtaking, otherworldly, all those adjectives commonly ascribed to Iceland, a country who’s landscape changes in the blink of an eye. As does its weather, but more on that later.

We started out walking past fields of obsidian, which was crazy to me, as someone used to seeing obsidian in its polished form as jewelry or in other handicrafts. For those who don’t know obsidian is basically volcanic glass, formed when lava meets ice immediately upon cracking the earth’s surface.

Fire and Ice were everywhere today. From the Rhyolite mountains that give them their rainbow coloring, to the geothermal steam vents that dot the landscape, to the multiple ice shelves we had to cross. The weather was magnificent, hot even. Bright blue skies guiding our way.

Speaking of guides, ours had told us at the beginning of the day it was set to rain at 7pm but that shouldn’t affect us since we would be at our next mountain hut by then. Famous last words.

Shortly before arriving at the midway point in our journey— a bare bones hut it was clear only a few backpackers actually stayed at—dark clouds started to form in the horizon. By the time we finished our lunch and got back underway a thick fog had started to roll in. At one point visibility was down to zero and Hokum, our guide, asked us to remain together as a group, lest one of us get lost. While it was a shame to lose our previous views, I have to say the whole setting was as beautiful as it was eerie.

Until the rain came. And then our first river crossing. Followed by even heavier rain. The kind that falls straight into your face, forcing you to keep your head down as you continue to put one foot in front of the other. I’m not going to lie. Those last two miles broke me. We arrived at our hut soaked, exhausted and starving.

Thank goodness for lamb stew, red wine and cheesecake. Nothing like a good meal and good company to warm the soul.