Yesterday, we kept reminding ourselves that sometimes the journey is the destination. Today, that really was the case for much of the day. When I decided to stay in Hofsos, I asked Meredith if I could intrude on her plans for today a little by finishing the drive around the Trollaskagi Peninsula, which is supposed to be one of the prettiest drives in Iceland. Happily, she agreed, as long as she could do the two things she had planned for the Lake Myvatn area. I told her she could push one of them into Monday if needed, and so we were set to go the scenic way around.
But first, we needed to backtrack a little bit. Just south of Hofsos, about two miles away, is a turf church, with wooden end walls, but with a turf roof that goes from the apex of the structure all the way to the ground. We had missed it on the drive the night before, which is no surprise since it turned out to have a sheep gate across the access drive. It’s easy to open, but not something we would have seen after a long day of driving. We found it, and parked in the small lot near the church, but had to traverse a field to get to the site itself. No big deal, but we did seem to disturb some birds, which isn’t a joke in Iceland. If they are arctic terns during mating season, they can be very aggressive. These weren’t, but it was a couple hundred tense yards to the wall of the church, which was also made of turf. The enclosed cemetery still seems to be used on occasion, with the most recent headstone dating from 2003. With the snowy mountains in the background, it was a lovely spot.
Back on the road, we headed north. The drive did not disappoint. Soon after Hofsos, we turned a corner, and a whole line of majestic mountains, with heavy snow still on the peaks, came into view, all over a fjord. It was an amazing sight, and one that was with us for a decent part of the drive. I’m afraid I didn’t get any pictures of it – Iceland can have long stretches of road with nowhere to pull off, so getting photos is difficult or impossible in places.
As we neared the northern point on the peninsula, and the pretty town of Siglufjordur, we encountered a one-way tunnel. Happily, for my driving sanity, we had the right of way. Cars coming in the other direction had to pull into carved-out nooks spaced every hundred meters. It seemed stressful, but since I had the right of way, and the tunnel was fairly short, it worked out fine.
Just as we were pulling into Siglufjordur, there was a small pull-out. I stopped so I could look around and take a photo of the pretty spot, when I noticed a viewing platform above the parking area. Meredith had seen it, but hadn’t decided if I needed to know about it more than she need not to climb. Up we went. The path wasn’t marked, and so we made one wrong turn, but we eventually made it to the platform. What a view, and, in Meredith’s term, Iceland-360; there was beauty in every direction. There were snowy mountains in front of us, a rocky mountain behind us, a fjord right below us, and the mountain-framed town to our right. You could hear a small stream from the mountain behind us, and a gentle breeze was blowing. The air was clear and clean and had a hint of flowers and cut hey in it. I told Meredith that the platform was probably my favorite spot in all of Iceland (to date). We stayed up there for twenty minutes or more.
The town of Siglufjordur is quite cute, with a large church and a small square and friendly avalanche-catching fences up on the mountains around town. We finally ate breakfast and lunch (combined – most eateries don’t open until noon on Sunday) in a small restaurant, and then stockpiled some large cinnamon rolls for later consumption. As an aside, Siglufjordur is our personal record for northern latitude, at only about forty miles south of the arctic circle. I loved the town.
Leaving town was still beautiful and exciting – we went through the longest tunnel I’ve ever gone thought, at 1.8 miles long. Five hundred yards later we entered a four-mile-long tunnel. That was followed by another village on a fjord and surrounded by mountains, and then we got another one-way tunnel. We again had the right of way, which was good since this one was over two miles long. Playing tunnel Frogger going the other way did not look to be much fun. If you ever visit the Troll Peninsula, make SURE to do it in a clockwise direction!
We rejoined Route 1 and made our way to Lake Myvatn. Over the drive, the landscape changed from rolling farm fields with scenic mountains to a blasted landscape of lava fields and scrubby bushes. My introduction to the lake was a small series of cones that looked like fifteen-foot craters (they are actually magma tubes that cooled off quickly). The lake is lovely, but the area around it is undeniably hostile looking. We checked into our guesthouse, and got situated. Meredith, the merciless taskmaster, insisted we tour on, and so we drove a short distance to the Myvatn Nature Baths. Touring is hard.
Myvatn sits on a fault, and so there are a lot of things going on here, thermal-wise. This, according to a write-up in our room, was where Iceland’s first geothermal plant was built. Near the plant are the baths, which, while not so large as the famous Blue Lagoon, are still really big and really nice, and cost half as much. We checked in and got into the bath with our new closest two hundred friends, and soaked away. The temperature of the water varied naturally in the large irregular pool, and so we wandered the whole pool to find a good spot.
I voted for one that was both very warm, which felt good, but also was somewhat in the shade. I saw several pasty northern Europeans in various stages of severe sunburn, so I wanted to be careful. I think I succeeded, and we spent a happy and relaxing couple of hours in the pool before having supper at the cafe there.
Meredith said we could head back to our guesthouse, since it was now 8:00, but also said her second sight was close by. I thought we should at least check it out to see if it could be done in an hour or so. I’m glad I did. First, we got a great view of the entire Lake Myvatn area from an overlook at the top of a small mountain pass. That was a nice bonus. But on the other side of the hill was something I had not anticipated – Namafjall, a blasted wasteland of hot springs and boiling mud pits.
The area strictly warns you to stay on the paths since the ground around the springs and pits is unstable. The springs are boiling hot, and the mud pits are also boiling, with the bonus of being made up of sulfuric acid. I stayed on the paths. It turns out to be an unsettling thing to hear the “blurp” of boiling ground. I also avoided the steam of the largest vents, fearing it might still be dangerously hot. But it was a beautiful place, in a bleak way. It was certainly something way outside my experience.
After about an hour, we headed back to the hotel for the night. One of the benefits to being in a thermal hot spot area is there is tons of hot water. Good for thermal baths, of course, but our bathroom encourages a “power shower” to highlight the green energy of the area. I’m planning on taking it to mean taking a long shower in the morning, to help melt away the stress of my beautiful day today.