Red Yeti's Blog

Iceland is a place that you should make some time to visit. I’ve been writing up up a few entries on aspects of the trip itself and how the gear used on the trip worked out. I’d have liked to have done this sooner but many more pressing but less interesting things got in the way! But first I thought I’d share a handful of the magic moments that I enjoyed whilst walking across part of one of the most spectacular places I’ve ever been to. Bear in mind that we had horrendous rain for most of the walk itself. Despite that, it was… magic.

Magic moments in Iceland

Watching fumaroles from the tent and seeing Strokkur spout as we picked plump blueberries above Geysir.

Finding myself announcing to a bus load of people that the bus had just broken down and we were stuck (the driver had told me after I was the only one to follow him outside to see where the smoke was coming from).

Taking off – literally, all four wheels of a full size bus, three times when the driver of the replacement bus completely overdid it on a very, very bumpy stretch of “road” across a lava field. The look on his face was quite something.

Sitting in a naturally hot stream, looking out at the mountains sipping Macallan Elegancia from a Platybottle.

Sharing samples of dried food with other hikers in a hut as the snow billowed outside.

Waking at dawn to find the clouds breaking across snow covered mountains with steaming fumaroles hissing all around.

Topping-out a ridge, above a wild-camp, to get a stunning view of by far the largest glacier that any of us had ever seen. There was far more of it visible from our vantage point than there was from the main trail.

Watching clouds roll across the lime-green, moss covered black peaks all around us from the same ridge and feeling like it was a set from Lord of the Rings.

Sharing a quick nip of the Macallan after crossing a freezing, rushing, dark, silty river in the pouring rain.

Watching an arctic fox, in its summer coat but with a white brush, pick its way up a steep, 10 meter high bank, knocking stones back into the glacier fed river that we were about to cross.

Seeing the first trees we’d laid eyes on for seven days. It was oddly wonderful. I’d missed them far more than I had expected or realised. We all found ourselves grinning at them.

Coming down the path next to Skógafoss as it thundered its way down beside us.

Sitting in a camp site at the foot of Skógafoss, at the end of the walk, sharing Harðfiskur and whiskey with a French father and son who’d just walked the North to South, finishing along our route. They were inspiring. It made me wonder about doing the same.

Pictures next…