ICELAND
LAUGAVEGUR AND FIMMVÖRÐUHÁLS
The Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails are a combined, rugged 50-mile hike taking the walker between two major glaciers and through some of the most stunning landscape in the Iceland Highlands of painted mountains, boiling geysers, black sand deserts and twenty-five waterfalls.
Epic hiking on the edge of the Arctic
When I announced my plans to spend three weeks in Iceland, backpacking and exploring the country as a tourist, many friends couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to discover this enchanting place.
Living in the Twin Cities, there’s a reasonably short (six-hour) direct, non-stop flight to Keflavik and a land that checks all the boxes for adventure including spectacular and unearthly beauty unlike anywhere else in the world. Not to mention, while these trails are very rugged, they’re also short, accessible, easily navigated and relatively straightforward. So it’s a wonder I waited so long to walk them!
As an experienced backpacker, I felt prepared to avoid the huts and camp out each night — plus hike in the opposite direction (north) to most backpackers, taking the steepest bit first with a fully loaded pack from Skógar!
Why? My reasoning was to approach the extraordinary Waterfall Way head on, then experience the breathtaking Rainbow Mountains plus a luxurious soak in the hot springs “people’s pools” at Landmannalaugar as my grand finale.
It turned out to be a perfect choice.
jump to the hike diary
Massive undulating rhyolite domes, obsidian ridges, and subglacial calderas characterize the spectacular high-altitude Torfajökull Volcanic System near Höskuldsskáli hut on the Laugavegur.
itinerary
The Laugavegur takes an average of three-four days to complete and the Fimmvörðuháls, one to two. Combined, these are beefy hikes with around 8,000 feet of elevation gain and loss — plus the weather can get extremely harsh quickly.
If you are planning to stay in the huts rather than camping, you are required to hike south. But as a camper, you can choose either direction.
I chose to walk north, mainly to enjoy the spectacular series of twenty-five waterfalls straight on, savor the remarkable rhyolite “rainbow” mountains and luxurious hot springs soak at the end and, if I had time, enjoy the equally spectacular day hikes around Landmannalaugar. Note that Skógar, a popular stop on the Ring Road in the south, does not offer any other day hikes besides the Fimmvörðuháls.
But choosing to start in the south meant a massive climb right out of the gate from sea level up to an exposed moonscape at around 3,300 feet.
To make this hike work for me, I set aside seven days to ensure I’d have flexibility for the weather as well as time to explore. It meant carrying a lot of food! But there are some restaurants along the way, so I wasn’t too worried about getting hungry.
here’s how I walked it:
Fimmvörðuháls Trail
Day 1 — Skógar to Básar Campsite, þórsmörk, 15.5 miles
Day 2 — Explore þórsmörk, Valahnúkur Peak and Tindfjöll Circuit
food: Excellent all-you-can-eat buffets at Volcano Hut
Laugavegur Trail
Day 3 — þórsmörk to Emstrur-Botnar, 10 miles
Bonus Hike — Markarfljótsgljúfur Canyon
Day 4 – Emstrur-Botnar to Hvanngil, 7.5 miles (the weather got extremely nasty so I cut the day short and slept in the barn with about 25 other hikers!)
food: Álftavatn Hut, about two miles further, has a bar/restaurant
Day 5 – Hvanngil to Landmannalauger, 18 miles
food: Mountain Mall Restaurant in Landmannalauger
Landmannalaugar day hikes
Day 6 – Landmannalaugar full-day circular hike to Stútur crater, over the summit of Norðournámur mountain and around Ljótipollur Crater Lake
Day 7 – Brennisteinsalda and Bláhnúkur Peaks Circuit
getting to the start
Turn up the volume to learn how to sound like a local.
Laugevegur (pronounced LOO-guh-vay-gur) literally means “The Hot Spring Way,” while Fimmvörðuháls (pronounced FIMM-vurd-uh-hals) means “Five Cairns Pass.”
Since I decided to hike north, I needed to get to Skógar, a little settlement right on the Ring Road (Route 1) and home to one of the largest and most iconic waterfalls in the country, Skógafoss.
Here’s how I did it:
- Flight MSP to KEF, arriving in the morning
- Flybus to BSÍ Bus Terminal, Reykjavik. You can buy a ticket for about $45 and just hop on the next available Flybus after you land for the 45-minute ride.
- I bought camp stove fuel at Iceland Camping Equipment Rental inside the bus station (they have a convenient 24-hour pickup arrangement too!) A Bónus Supermarket is just a 15 minute walk.
- Local Bus transfer “Læknagarður 3 Sel/Fell” to Mjódd Bus Terminal, runs every 15-30 minutes. There is one decent cafe in the tiny terminal.
- Strætó Route 52 bus to Skógar (Platform E) only one per day at 2:18 for the 3 1/2 hour ride
- I set up my tent at the very basic Campsite Skógar and started my trek on the Fimmvörðuháls the next morning.
- For the return, I booked a Highland Bus from Landmannalaugar to Reykjavik.
trail info
River Crossings
After walking Canada’s Great Divide Trail, New Zealand’s Te Araroa and Scotland’s Cape Wrath Trail — all of which have wickedly dangerous river crossings — Iceland’s river crossings felt like a breeze.
To be fair, I crossed these rivers in mid-August and the water levels were likely lower than they’d be earlier in the season, but nothing felt dangerous. In fact, even with temperatures in the upper 40’s, I did not bother to take off my trail running shoes. This is obviously a preference and depends on your level of comfort, but my shoes dried quickly and being wet, did not slow me down.
Crossings South to North
- Krossá River between Básar and þórsmörk has a metal mobile bridge over the deepest section but then you need to walk through the smaller streams, most of which were spanned by wee wooden bridges.
- Þröngá River just after þórsmörk is known as the toughest crossing. The river has three braids with the last one being the deepest and strongest current. Use your trekking poles and walk slowly like a crab. The water was way below my knees.
- Unnamed river just after Emstrur-Botnar Hut was so low, I hopped across on rocks.
- Bládfjallakvisl River just before Hvanngil Hut. I caught this in pelting rain. It’s the widest but had practically no current at all though it can sometimes rise up to mid-thigh, I caught it at ankle height. Note: Do NOT cross at the road, rather move east to a shallower section.
- River Brathálskvisl just after Hvanngil Hut is
short and easy. I met another Minnesotan gal here and she also left on her shoes! - Grashagakvisl River after Álftavatn Hut is a bit deeper but there is a handy rope to aid in crossing.
The Þröngá River just north of þórsmörk was the swiftest and deepest.
Camping Regulations
There was a time when you could wild camp on the Fimmvörðuháls and Laugavegur Trails. It’s still possible, but more difficult.
Here are the rules:
Most of the hike is on park land requiring that you camp at designated campsites for a fee, around $28 per person per night. These designated sites sit next to huts and have showers, toilets, running water plus a protected cooking area for campers.
Parts of Laugavegur are on private land, but you need permission to camp there. That being said, the environment is extremely fragile and the wardens told me they are trying to minimize the impact by concentrating camping at the huts.
Indeed, the impact is heavy and this season, the trail was very crowded with few resources to accommodate the masses. As this was an unusually hot summer in Europe, it seems everyone was escaping to Iceland for relief.
Emstrur/Botnar on the Laugevegur was especially overrun. Here I found a tent city with areas designated for guided groups, regular campers, a camping annex and a camping basement way down the hill. I set up in the annex to the camping basement annex!
As mentioned above, there are a few places along the way that serve food:
- Lava Grill & Bar in Þórsmörk at the Volcano Huts between the Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails offers a Breakfast Buffet (08:00 – 10:00 am) Soup Lunch Buffet (11:30 am – 3:00 pm) and Dinner Buffet (6:00 pm – 9:00 pm) fas well as a Day-Hike Lunch Package and all-day coffee, cakes, snacks, and local drinks.
- Álftavatn Hut mid-trail on the Laugevegur serves soup of the day, hot casseroles, takeaway lunch packs, snacks, and a bar with beer and wine from 11:30 am–11:00 pm)
- Mountain Mall in Landmannalaugar is a very basic store in a converted bus with snacks, trail food and hot dogs. I had a trout on rye sandwich and ate it outside on the picnic table with a fantastic view of Blánúkur Peak. (open 11:00 am – 9 pm)
Note: There is no wifi or cell service along the way except at Volcano Hut in þórsmörk, between the two trails.
Best Time to Hike
Water
There is a lot of water along the way and most can be drunk unfiltered. The huts supply drinking water, except for Baldvinsskáli at the high point of the Fimmvörðuháls. Their supply comes from snow-melt via hoses. Don’t count on water here and expect a long carry!
Note: You can safely drink water from the glacial streams, just not the geysers!
Gear List
The weather in the Iceland Highlands is notoriously severe, unpredictable, and capable of turning dangerous very quickly. This is not the hike for you to cut your base weight!
The best advice I can offer is to carry a tent that can handle heavy rain and wind. You will likely be setting on lava rock and will need to secure your stakes with piles of rocks.
It will get chilly and damp, so ensure you have a warm sleep system and serious rain gear. Ponchos likely aren’t going to cut it.
In case of a severe storm, some wardens will allow hikers inside the huts, especially at Hrafntinnusker and Baldvinsskáli. I was invited to camp in the barn at Hvanngil when the rain started battering me directly in the face. There’s no electricity or heat, but the it was a welcome refuge even if shared with about 25 other hikers sleeping like sardines!
Money
Iceland is expensive. OK, that’s the understatement of the year!
Iceland is primarily a cash-less society and you should be able to use your credit or debit card throughout the country, even in remote areas, without needing to pick up Icelandic Króna. But using a credit card can hide just how much money is going out every day.
Tip: If a choice is given to charge in ISK or USD, the general rule is you get a better exchange rate with ISK.
I made my own camp food and brought it with me on the plane, which saved a lot. But expect to pay around $28 just to camp each night. My small can of campstove gas cost about $15 and one small pizza I ate while waiting for the bus was around $25. So yes, it can add up quickly.
And to top it off, because the hike is so strenuous, you will probably develop hiker hunger. The all-you-can-eat buffets in þórsmörk are likely your best value.
But don’t skip a beer or snack along the way. Instead take the attitude you’re supporting the economy and enjoying a treat! You are seeing a very special part of the world and may never pass this way again.
Tip: It wasn’t imperative for the hike, but I found it helpful to buy data for my phone so I could use it Iceland. I paid for camping in Skógar online and once I became a tourist after the hike, I used my phone a lot to pay for parking, campsites, entry fees and to do research.
hike diary
Day 1 — Fimmvörðuháls Trail: Skógar to Básar Campsite, þórsmörk, 15.5 miles
Even before I start walking, it’s a long journey to the trailhead. I leave Minnesota at night and try to sleep in a fully packed plane. Once I hit the ground, I’m on the move taking the Flybus to BSÍ Terminal, buying campstove gas, taking a local bus to Mjódd Terminal and setting myself up at a wee cafe to await the once-a-day Strætó 52 Bus out to Skógar.
Why rush, you might ask? For me, the last thing I want to do is be a tourist at the start. My husband, Richard, will meet me after the hike with a rental car, and there will be plenty of time to explore Reykjavik later.
It’s not particularly cold out, but it’s wet. A steady drizzle leaves a glistening layer of damp on the gray, blocky buildings at the outskirts of town. But soon, the land opens up to brilliant green, cliffs seeming to grow straight out of the sea-side plains, their tops like something out of a fairytale with falls ttumbling hundreds of feet. Skógafoss is one such cataract, and a popular destination for tourists driving the Ring Road, the same one Richard and I will take after the hike.
At one time, there was camping here with a view of the falls. But the bathrooms got absolutely disgusting and the place was overrun with garbage, spoiling the view. So camping was moved closer to the highway without any view at all — and in a swampy bit of grass. Two each toilets and showers live inside a shipping container with a dish wash-up and potable water outside. There is the bonus of garbage collection, although I don’t have any use as of yet.
A woman comes around to ensure we’re all paid up. Because I bought data for my phone, I am able to sign into the website to pay (which is how it’s done at most campsites throughout Iceland.) I set up next to a couple of young men from France and Canada, a young German and her grandmother, all going my way, plus a couple who just finished and offer up a lot of fear-mongering of how horrible the hike will be if the weather gets bad.
Their words buzz in my mind when I wake up to rain. It isn’t just the damp, but the fact that I won’t see that much that niggles at me. Still, I make coffee, eat a bar, pack up a sodden tent and put on my game face for the 527 steps to the top of the falls.
OK, call me obsessive, but I counte them and there are only 469! But what a spectacular scene they take me to. They don’t call it “Waterfall Way” for nothing. Yes, I am walking uphill, but there is a feeling of arriving in distinct valleys of intense green moss, where the river carves singular stpes through dark basalt. What that translates to is that I get each of the falls individually, marveling at their graceful power one at time.
And loudly, cheering on the water, sighing at this incredible sight and lingering for photos and a bit of spray.
Many walkers do the Fimmvörðuháls, or Five Cairns Pass, as a day hike, getting a ride back to Skógar from þórsmörk in the afternoon — or just an out-and-back to the bridge across the river at the final falls and back. Many blogs I read suggested that walking north instead of south on my thru-hike will mean lots of solitude in the morning. Wrong! It’s packed here with all levels of hikers, many using drones exactly where signs said “No Drones.”
I had planned to stop at the top and camp near Baldvinsskali, only eight miles in total, so I longer extravagantly — especially when the sun comes out and the clouds clear. You think I was joyous seeing all those waterfalls? Now, I’m ecstatic.
I meet a young man also from Minnesota who tells me he only has a couple of days to hike. Still he lugs his heavily rucksack with a tent and speeds ahead of my sauntering self. But I eventually catch him worn out from the climb at the bridge where a sign warns “There is no water until þórsmörk.”
Fortunately, I am the chatty type and a couple of backpackers I pass earlier let me know that there actually is water at the top. My pack is so heavy from seven days of food and warm gear, I can’t bear to carry any water. Still we fill up at the stream and sit in the brilliant sunshine, eating lunch and talking past trips.
Next to us is a tiny hut, about the size of an ample outhouse. Of course I check to see if I can use it and am greeted by words scrawled inside, “This is not a toilet.” Still the building has its uses as a shield to pee behind. Just a I wrap up, a woman arrives and immediately heads for the door.
We laugh when she discovers the sign and then follows suit, also using the building as camo. Reann is her name, also from Minnesota and she’s as friendly as ever. She joins us, but mentions she needs to keep moving so she won’t miss the all-you-can-eat buffet at Volcano Hut in þórsmörk.
I eat up and fall into step with her, heading up what is now a steep road toward the top. We carry on the entire way, soon realizing we’ve completely lost our young man entirely.
That’s when I decide, with such lovely weather, the fact that I’m moving so well and have met a really cool companion, I want to keep moving and just walk this trail in a day. But if I’m to stay with her, I’ll need to kick into higher gear and move much faster than I’d planned.
And the hard stuff is just ahead of us.
Indeed water is available at Baldvinsskáli. The hut sits atop a moonscape of black lava rock between two glaciers and at the moment we arrive, it’s taken over by a gaggle of women — local trail runners, the hut warden in a hand knit dress plus several backpackers. We happily use the little A-frame outhouse (which is a toilet!) top up our water and move on.
And right away, it’s a steep descent on dirty and very slippery snow. Reann offers me her microspikes. Call me a gram-weenie, but I left mine at home figuring by late season, everything would be melted Wrong! Not only is there a large snowfield, but recent rain makes it slick. To top it off, right where ropes are affixed to make the travel easier, a crevasse has opened up. We’re forced to walk way around on the more secure lava rock to find a good crossing spot.
And then it’s back up steeply on crumbling basalt to a vast wasteland between glaciers. Tall yellow poles mark the way, although now a path is fairly obvious. We miss an alternate that could take us around a section of sharp piles of rock requiring careful footing, seeing people to our left walking much faster on a dusty trail. I’d highly recommend that trail, but toughing this one out is pretty interesting!
Finally at the high point, the view is stupendous, mountains like waves highlighted by electric green moss, glacial fingers reaching in and exploding in waterfalls streaming down to dark gorges. Because the volcanoes in Iceland mostly occurred beneath ice, their remains are unique, characterized by flat-topped mountains and sharp ridges.
Far below us, we see the trail along one of these table tops — and it’s here I begin to get nervous. That’s because getting there will require traversing a severely eroded stretch. The park service has affixed chains to make things at least feel safer, but the experience looking into the maw below in which I must drop leaves me panicky.
And just like that ,as if the universe is getting the last laugh, three cyclists show up barreling down the trail I just crawled over. They take one look at the sharp edge, throw their bikes over a shoulder, grab the chains and push through with nary an “Excuse me.” All I can do is laugh. If they can do it, c’mon, Al so can you!
Still, Reann offers to carry my pack so I’m less wobbly and down we go, over and across, trying to ficus on the steps ahead and resist looking down. Tips for you? I imagine going up this feels safer than dropping into it, but really it looks more dangerous than it is. Although. I should point out that the parks closed the Fimmvörðuháls a week or so after I finished due to “erosion.” If there’s a landslip here, I can’t see any other way around.
The rest of the trail sweeps through stunning landscapes of electric green covered mountains. Wildflowers still grow along the steep trail. Reann and I talk the entire way like old friends as she pushes me along. I’m tired but stay close, even over a tricky exposed ridge, breaking apart has we walk it.
Finally at the bottom, I spy campers in the forest of dwarf birch trees. This is Basár Campsite where I peel off.” I should mention that Reann goofed on her schedule, reserving a glamping tent for two nights when she really needs to catch the bus out tomorrow afternoon. “Do you want my tent for tomorrow?” she asks adding a sweetener, “It comes with dinner and breakfast.”
Um, let me think about it. YES! I had planned to explore þórsmörk anyway, and I’m a day ahead now. What a generous soul! I tell her beers on me tomorrow afternoon and away she goes.
I set my tent and sleep system on grass, a rushing stream within earshot. Just as I begin to make my dinner, the rain that held off all day, begins to fall.
Day 2 — Explore þórsmörk
It’s a totally chill day walking over to Volcano Hut with a side trip to the sepctacular view from Valahnúkur Peak and the Tindfjöll Circuit. These are easily accessed from Langidalur.
I follow it up having dinner with Reann at Volcano Hut, a long, relaxing sauna with some Icelanders very interested in our odd choice of president and a rest in a stylish glamping tent. Breakfast is equally good, and I eat my fill before embarking on the Laugavegur.
I must say that earlier this season, I lost the hiking lottery and walked with a “Mean Girl” in Nepal who did her utmost to make the journey unpleasant. And now, the universe rights itself with a new friend, generous, funny, a real joy. Life is good.
Day 3 — Laugavegur Trail: þórsmörk to Emstrur-Botnar, 10 miles
Toddling out of þórsmörk, it’s easy walking as the fog gives way to sunshine. I’m a bit nervous heading to what’s considered the hardest river crossing on the trail at the Þröngá River. A sign tells me to both not walk alone and to wait for others if needed. As I approach, I see the Germans, Sarah and her grandmother Sabina have already crossed. Another young woman is tackling the fiercest bit, a channel up to her knees with a good pull.
I keep on my shoes and pop over with little trouble, then head straight up to a spectacular view looking back at the glacier-covered mountains.
And that’s when I begin to see all the people.
With such a short walk today, I don’t start early enough to have the trail to myself so meet one hiker after another, Americans, Canadians, Europeans, Chinese — it’s a steady stream. But I feel so little rush, I stop to talk with several about their experience as well as mine, urging them not to miss the short but spectacular climb to Valahnúkur. I even bump into a gal using a Granite Gear backpack and we pose for pictures of my favorite Minnesota-made brand.
The trail is flat for a long way except for a few steep ravines, one of which I travel up a ways for a perfect spot on the grass to have lunch. When I come back out, I sidle along the edge of a cliff where the view in every direction is a postcard.
But now that I’m in this bowl of beauty, how exactly do I get out? First, by crossing the Syðri-Emstruá, a deep gorge with a raging glacial river roiling beneath. There’s a small climb down to a walkway which reveals a sturdy bridge. Still, I feel vertigo and am grateful for the ropes to keep me balanced. A sign warns not to go across in giant groups, which Instagram practically demands for that perfect picture (right before the bridge collapses!) Fortunately, the groups are long gone at this point in the afternoon.
It’s a steep and eroded climb straight up to another bowl. Above, I see one figure that has stopped. It appears he’s filming me. I’m so grateful for the perspective — and that he didn’t venture forth and dislodge a stone on top of me!
It’s not much further along black rock until I reach small streams and the hut ahead. A woman has stripped down and is washing her privates on one of the bridges. Welcome to civilization. I’m not put off by her nakedness, it’s more the brazenness of using soap in a wild stream and one sitting right above many tents below.
What I see below are just a tiny slice of the inhabtants. As I get closer to the hut, I spy a veritable city of tents seeming to flow down the hills as if a waterfall of colorful nylon. Now I know why the gal with the Granite Gear pack told me to get my tent set up before doing anything else.
Nearer to the hut on the flattest bit of ground is a sea of matching tents, the best spot here reserved for guided groups. I wait in line to check in with the warden who asks if I have a reservation and wishes me luck finding a spot down the hill. The Granite Gear gal I met also told me I could find a super flat spot next to the toilets, but it will smell!
I opt for far below, setting on rough ground where I need stones to hold the stakes in place. Our tents are so close we’re touching but everyone seems in a relatively good mood. Rain threatens, but hasn’t started yet. I eat dinner with new friends I make at a hut, then head off to walk a short bonus hike.
Bonus Hike: Markarfljótsgljúfur Canyon
Formed by the Katla Volcano around 2,000 years ago, this dramatic gorge is a must see. It’s massive and dramatic filled with palgonite tuff, that unique rock created when magma pushes through an ice sheet, shattering into glass shards. The rock is at times deep red, brown, tan and black, slowly being taken apart by bright green moss. It’s an easy walk under three miles and since I’m here in the late afternoon, it’s bathed in golden light. I linger almost until dusk, then head back to the crowded campsite as rain patters on the tent.
A hiker captures me climbing up towards Emstrur Hut. I’m so glad he stopped, nbot just for the video, but because knocking down stones on those below is a big risk!
Day 4 – Emstrur-Botnar to Hvanngil, 7.5 miles
As you’ve been reading, you might wonder if this trail is worth walking. I would say absolutely, an unqualified yes. Iceland’s Highlands are such a unique environment, there is no place quite like it in the world. And it’s relatively accessible and easy walking.
That being said, the weather can turn violent on a dime. I recommend adding a few days as contingency just in case you get stopped by unforeseen variables.
There’s a small break in the rain when I wake up. I use that window quickly pack, make coffee in the tented cooking area, and get started with my goal again only about ten miles to Álftavatn Hut. I am very lucky indeed that the day ahead will be the one with the fewest big views. If it’s going to rain, this is the best day to do it.
I climb up and out of this bowl onto a long, flat desert of black sands and green mountains in striking contrast. My feet crunch on loose volcanic ash with not one living thing growing on it. That’s because normally this is a wind tunnel, scouring the landscape so nothing can survive. The rain falls down, but as I continue, that fanous wind builds and it begins to hit me straight in the face. I must say wet wind is preferable to dry. It’s only water after all. But in time, I’m getting soaked to the skin.
I have four rivers to cross on this section. One I barely notice, hopping over on stones. The thunderous rage of the Innri-Emstruá River slices right through the rock and is thankfully bridged, as is the Kaldaklofskvísl on a nifty walkway approached by stairs. In between, however, is the Bláfjallakvísl. I come upon a large group of hikers, taking off their boots, putting on sandals to cross, then drying up and putting their boots back on. They tell me it’s not deep or much of a pull, so I plunge in as they watch me, mouths agape that I don’t care about wet shoes.
After the Canadian Rockies, this is nothing. I have been much wetter, in freezing water and in much more remote areas. But in this wild wind, I’m getting soaked to the skin — and cold. When I arrive at Hvangill Hut, I spy a few tent sites sitting in puddles. I enter the office and meet a lovely female warden. She has the heat cranked and suggests I stop for the day.
I had noticed a “shelter” on the Far Out app about 1/4 mile away and she directs me there rather than setting a tent. It’s a barn but free of horses for the moment. No heat, no electricity, but an outhouse close by with a sink and potable water. It may have only been a short morning walk, but I eagerly take her up on the offer, just as the wind builds and the rain spits relentlessly.
The barn is large with a dirt floor and stinky stalls. Above though, is a long room with sloped ceilings. Two windows bring in dim light and long tables with benches take up most of the floor space. I meet a huge guided group just taking a break out of the rain. They offer a bit of chocolate before heading off in all-terrain vehicles.
I’m alone in here for a few delicious minutes, taking off my wet clothing and setting up my sleeping space. But soon, the door bangs open and two couples arrive with three very young girls. They were bike packing and heading to another hut not on this trail, but the forced a retreat by the wind. Instantly, one of the mothers turns on a bossy know-it-all attitude like she owns the place. I must say, in spite of her manner, her daughters turned out great. They’re delightful and take to me right away. That only seems to annoy her, especially when we dry off and start playing Uno, laughing and jostling with pure innocent joy. When one gleefully places a wild card, Mrs. Mom admonishes them to not to be mean. Good grief.
I’m saved, though, when a lovely young Canadian man arrives. He’s shaking violently. I leave my game and quickly warm up something for him to drink and hold in his hands. Then help him get out of his wet rain gear. I should reiterate that this is not the hike to cut weight. He’s wearing ultralight rain gear and was showing signs of hypothermia.
But safely in our barn, he warms up and is followed by a German family, two super cool American men and their sons, a group of Czech hikers and many more I barely meet as we try to organize enough places to sit and make our dinners. The wind rattles the barn and rain continues to pelt at the windows, but we all dry out and commiserate on our luck to be here in this shelter. Somehow, enough spaces are found to lay down and sleep. In the morning, the young Canadian and I get up first and tip-toe out into a brilliantly calm day, the rain letting up completely.
Note: There is supposed to be a fantastic little hike to a snow cave from this hut. I obviously could not walk it, but others said worth checking out.
The otherworldly view from Jökultungur Ridge looking towards Álftavatn Lake. As I was going north, I had a monster climb to this point. But I much preferred that, as the descent was harder on loose rock.
Day 5 – Hvanngil to Landmannalauger, 18 miles
Almost right away leaving Hvanngil, I need to wade across River Brathálskvisl. I meet another Minnesotan woman crossing who, like me, doesn’t bother taking off her shoes. We’re already wet, why bother?! We snap pictures of each other and share them before wishing each other luck.
Álftavatn Hut, sitting right on a huge lake, is very close and most campers who slpet out in their tents seem a bit battered. I meet the Germans again, Sabina and Sarah. They opted for a bunk in the hut, paying $140 per person compared to my $28 for the shared barn loft. I’m happy to see them and happy that they made a good decision so as not to get cold. We cross the last river together, the Grashagakvisl, which has a handy rope for balance. It’s no longer very deep this time of year, but I don’t begrudge the rope!
Ahead, is a huge climb up crumbling rock. As always, I prefer up to down. Sure, it gets me out of breath, but I my feet purchase and can hurl myself forward, rather than stop a fall. The wind is howling and I need to steady myself as I turn around to capture the otherworldly view, as if a painting. The lake nestles into pointy peaks covered in soft green. Beyond is endless glacier. The sky is not completely clear, but the brooding cloud cover adds drama.
As I reach Jökultungur Ridge, I come into another bowl, steaming and roiling, the air smelling of rotten eggs. The geology immediately changes to “Rainbow Mountains” of orange, umber, chestnut and bronze, all rhyolite, a fine-grained volcanic byproduct that shares the exact same chemical composition with granite, though, because it erupted to the surface and cooled rapidly, gives us these astonishing colors — and we walk directly on top!
I am not in any hurry and happy to camp at the next hut if I choose, so I take my time, listening to the snap, crackle, pop of mini mudpots and marveling at the way only Arctic Cotton can survive near streams in russet tones.
Many hikers pass and we snap pictures of each other, some more interested in talking than others. An enormous guided group passes and we all agree we are lucky to be here on a clear day. Yes, weather matters. I’m too old now just to hike to get somewhere or to say I walked something. If I can organize my time to be at the primo spot in primo weather, I’ll do it.
The trail begins to turn towards Höskuldsskáli Hut. Called the Torfajökull Volcanic System, I’m now walking on a series of undulating rhyolite domes, obsidian ridges, and subglacial calderas, with snowy fingers of glacier jutting through. I love this spot, even if it’s up and down and up and down to get to the hut which I can see nearly the entire way, but never appears closer!
Just before the hut, I pass a large rock cairn with a plaque attached. It’s a memorial to a hiker who lost his way and died of exposure. There is nowhere to hide here from a sudden whiteout or snowstorm. I always take a Satellite Communication Device and ensure I am following the GPS, but if snow covers the trail, it could be tough walking through here.
At last, at the hut I find a spot at a picnic table to make lunch. My young Canadian friend is her too and says he’s moving on after lunch and finishing today. I linger and enjoy the otherworldly view, but also decide I would prefer to camp below as up here is very exposed and cold.
Most of the hike is downhill now, along a sweeping snowfields. I take care to avoid melting snow bridges, but the way is obvious as most people are coming towards me. Below is Stórihver, a remarkable geyser and hot spring oasis, bright green land juxtaposed with brilliant turquoise water. Everything is fire and ice, alive and bubbly. Again, I am so glad to be going down at this point, at the climax of the hike. My pack weighs less, I’m working less hard and I can take all the time I want.
I’m up for a while on a massive high-altitude plain. Had I even more time, I could have added Brennisteinsalda or Bláhnúkur Peaks to my hike. But I’m running out of steam (pun intended) and so drop down into the jagged, pitch-black Laugahraun lava field. On tired legs, this is not an easy descent as much of it requires climbing on uneven rock, but its massive size gives you an idea of just how destructive the eruption was.
It happened in 1477, the lava squeezed out and cooling fast, forming towering hoodoos. Geothermal pools line the trail and signs warn that if you step off, you’ll step on vents spewing vapor around 200°. These same vents are the ones that warm the people’s polls, the Landmannalaugar Hot Springs inside a mountain stream. I cross a bridge and see people everywhere soaking, all very relaxed, in little clusters of conversation, some with bottles of champagne or beer.
Landmannalaugar can be reached by road if you have a four-wheel-drive that can go through rivers. About 100 cars and campers are parked at the road, but there is plenty of room to set my tent in a green space closer to the stream. I quickly set, then change into the bathing suit I have been carrying all this way and head to the pools via a long boardwalk. Stairs ease me in and it’s an intense ahhhhh. I soak until dark, spotting my Canadian friend, then crawl into my tent to plan the rest of my days here.
Day 6 and 7 — Landmannalaugar day hikes
I take an entire day to explore the approximately 12-mile circular hike to Stútur Crater, over the summit of Norðournámur Mountain and around Ljótipollur Crater Lake. My route is part of the dowloadable GPX. I highly recommend the summit as you will likely have it all to yourself and the view looking towards the braided Tungnaá River. Of course, I took an even longer soak in the hot springs afterwards.
I had a white out of fog my last day, but still climbed up Bláhnúkur and around toward Brennisteinsalda, or the “Sulfur Wave.” It’s only about six miles but with 2,000 feet of gain and loss. The views coming down Brennisteinsalda are jaw-dropping. The one Highland Bus that returns to Reykjavik leaves at 3:45, giving me plenty of time to pack and eat before leaving.
