ICELAND DAY 8 – TO THE NORTH

(readers note: I changed the format, so the pictures follow the relevant paragraphs.  Be sure to read all the way to the end.  Click on any picture to see all the pictures in full size)

We have breakfast at the little restaurant next to our inn.  Like every other restaurant in Iceland, the fresh, homemade bread here is spectacular.  Our assumption is that it’s the water that makes it so good.  Light and airy.  Think the best Portuguese or Italian bread you’ve eaten, crusty on the outside, fluffy and airy on the inside.  Iceland’s other contribution to baking is Lava Bread.  Also called Geysir Bread, all the ingredients are mixed in a pot, covered and wrapped tightly then buried in a local geothermal field for 24 hours.  The resultant is a hardy rye, slightly sweet with the consistency of banana bread (or a honey bread at Rosh Hasanah). 

The weather forecast is not looking good here, snow predicted to get worse throughout the day, so we pack up and head out.  There’s only one road out, over the rugged mountain that defines Seydisfjorour’s western border.  The drive is just as perilous as we anticipated going uphill, and even more so coming back down the other side.  Icy conditions, high winds, tight curves, steep inclines, no shoulders, and still our little Kia SUV proves up to the challenge.  We must have driven over the top of the world, because on the other side of the mountain, there was no sign of snow whatsoever. 

We’re on our way to Lake Myvatn in the north.  Just before we get to town, we stop at Hverir, a very active hot springs area with boiling mudpots and fumaroles, geologic steam vents where the minerals from deep in the earth create colorful anthill shaped chimneys.  This is a fun one to explore as you can get right up to many of the elements and see all the colors in each formation up close.  The sulfur is strong in the air as we wander the area, the overall effect like being in a smelly pointillist painting.  The thick silty dirt we pick up on our hiking boots is like walking through sticky pudding and ultimately follows us around for the rest of the trip.

We check into the Vogafoss Farm Resort.  When we originally book this trip in 2019 (the original trip canceled because of Covid), this was one of the first places we booked, a working farm with a dozen or so small cabin-like guesthouses.  Taking farm-to-table one step further, their farm-to-farm restaurant is located inside the cowshed, separated from the 40 milking cows by a single pane of glass.  These cows, plus the 140 sheep and adjacent lake provide the basis for the restaurant’s menu, with the rest being sourced as locally as possible.  Lunch starts with their appetizer sampler platter which features both cured and smoked salmon, their housemade feta and mozzarella, their own Geysir Bread and their signature raw smoked lamb.  It’s artfully plated and Mandy quickly adds this to her “top 10 dishes” list. 

After lunch, we head out to explore the nearby pseudocrater field.  Originally thought to be small volcanic craters, these similar shaped formations were actually formed when thin-flowing molten lava ran over the wet boggy area at the southern edge of the lake.  The hot lava boiled the water and the resultant steam caused great bubbles in the lava’s surface.  Quickly cooling, the bubbles caved in like a souffle coming out of the oven, leaving the crater shaped divot in the top.  It’s one of the most interesting natural phenomenons in Iceland. 

We nap and head out to the famed Myvatn Nature Baths for a soak.  The baths consist of a man-made lagoon fed by mineral rich alkaline water from a nearby borehole.  While the water works it’s magic on our skin, muscles, joints and hair, the views do the same for our psyche and soul.  We wander around the large hot pool, gravitating to the warmer thermals when the light snow starts to fall on our faces.  We soak for about an hour, talking with some fellow travelers.  I finish with a few minutes in the sauna, built over a geothermal crack and naturally fed by the steam.    Relaxed, it’s back to the farm for a late dinner.  Time has become amorphous for us.  Being so far up the curve of the earth the sun will only dip below the horizon for 55 minutes tonight and darkness will not come at all.  Getting to sleep is difficult as the light streaming through the windows, even with the curtains drawn, plays tricks with our circadian rhythms.