We rode through the somewhat boring rain and classic dark landscapes all day long, and even though it wasn't all that gloomy, the soul demanded something more (although I don't have one, so there was nothing to do the demanding really).
And here it is at last — the great Geysir, the geyser that gave the name to this very phenomenon in both the Russian and English languages.
First, the info center with its logo appeared before us
And almost simultaneously, the ground started smoking nearby. It's a thrilling yet soothing sight, you immediately realize that everything today was not for nothing, all that monotonous pedaling in the rain and wind. The landscape is enveloped in a magical haze, there are hardly any sounds, and the impression it makes is enchanting: a huge field of hot steam existing all on its own; it was here thousands of years before us, and most likely will be here thousands of years after.
Strokkur erupting in the distance
We settled down at a campsite, where an uncommunicative staff member, for a price slightly above 5 lats, handed us a receipt with the date to stick to our tent (standard practice), and a voucher to visit the thermal pool located near the hotel. The pool alone costs about 2 lats, so the benefit is obvious. From the description, we initially misunderstood this bonus, but luckily, I questioned the caretaker in more detail. The moral, once again — ALWAYS ask about what else you can get for free at hotels, campsites, and basically everywhere you end up. They say the exact same thing over on Reddit, too.
The dude, by the way, turned out to be a non-local: when I asked him to translate the recipe for an instant soup, he said he didn't know Icelandic. "Where are you from, then?" I wondered without any ulterior motive. The answer somewhat stunned me: from Latvia, and not just from Latvia, but from Daugavpils, meaning the city where I live. The guy has been in Iceland for 5 years already, and it's not like it's totally his jam here, but everyone knows how things are back home right now, so there's no need to explain why he's stuck out there.
While we were pitching our tent, two cute young girls walked by next to us, looking around in confusion, carrying massive 100-liter trekking backpacks. Naturally, I dashingly started waving my arms and convincingly yelling: “Hey girls, come here, we’ll keep you company”. The young ladies fell for the provocation, turning out to be French-speaking Swiss girls with elvish-sounding names, Lorienne and Rianne. Unfortunately, we got sick of waiting for them, and so we bolted to take a walk around the area, hoping to still run into them in the evening. That did happen, but by then the weaker sex had already lost their last bit of strength, and the princesses crashed to sleep, so we didn't get to dazzle them with our charisma and charm.
As for the surroundings, they never ceased to delight. We watched streams of boiling water and pits filled with boiling water along the edges of a rope-fenced path leading to the main tourist attraction — the Strokkur geyser. The thing is, Papa Geysir himself has aged quite a bit, his strength is nowhere near what it used to be, so he erupts rarely, maybe three times a day, though pretty high — up to 120 meters. But his son Strokkur is still young and frisky, although he hasn't caught up to his dad's height yet — he only shoots up to about thirty.
Andrey once wondered what the temperature of the surrounding water was. Well, here is the answer
People are walking, people are taking it all in
We were walking unhurriedly, and at this pace, we reached Strokkur. It's fenced off on all sides, and we were moving where the ground was somehow wet. This fact didn't alarm us, and that was a mistake. As we shuffled past, there was a sudden blast from the side, and we literally jumped, not knowing which way to run. It was useless — we still got pelted by large drops, which for some reason were cold, even though the water in the geyser looks perfectly boiling.
Something like this
Andrey dubbed the little Geysir a "cooking pot" because it bubbles constantly but doesn't shoot
Here it is, the mighty Strokkur
In all its glory
And here is Papa Geysir, peacefully snoozing
Having enjoyed the views of the thermal field, we headed to the pool fed by the big Geysir. There we relaxed for about an hour, which, you can believe me, brings immense pleasure after a whole day of pedaling. The air temperature is around 13 degrees, it's raining, and you're just sitting there in the warmth, soaking. Naturally, this is exactly how many people picture a thermal pool in their dreams — with guaranteed rain and cold outside, so that the contrast makes you feel even more pleasant emotions. That's exactly what happened to us, be jealous!
When returning to the campsite, we wandered into a huge store with clothes and souvenirs on the way. Being broke, we could hardly buy anything, just stared vacantly at T-shirts for 20 lats and jackets for 300 euros. The only exception was Andrey, who still caved and bought a folding backpack as a gift.
At the campsite, another minor disaster occurred — I got the contact of my phone's USB cord wet, and it stopped charging. It's not critical, because I have an external charger for phone batteries, but it is annoying, since it charges slowly and not fully. By the way, I was charging from the power supply for "campers" and "caravans" — RVs where you can spend the night, you can see one in the photo above. Usually, this costs a hefty sum, but you can always ask those who have already bought electricity to plug in a splitter, they don't mind. The Swiss girls plugged their phones into the sockets next to the camper, and they didn't speak English, but I showed them in sign language to hide my device in case it started pouring, and went off to cook dinner myself. The moral — you don't need a language for international communication, you need common goals and a desire.
I don't remember if I mentioned it, but we were eating instant oatmeal with canned fish — the food, frankly speaking, was nothing to write home about, but after a whole day of physical labor, even that goes down a treat.
After dinner we took another walk to let the food settle better, walked to the end of the path by the geysers, to the left, and at its end I climbed over the fence to see what else was smoking up there. Andrey was balking — saying it was the same as here, but I showed some stubbornness — not only did I reach the smoky spot, but I also climbed the mountain. And I did the absolutely right thing — another unimaginable beauty unfolded before my eyes: a darkening, quiet mountain valley covered in grass, and in it — the cozy little lights of several small houses. Here, of course, a sense of the world's perfection and peace washed over me — this is such a rare thing for me that words can't convey the tranquility and joy I feel in these moments. Anyone who naturally has a calm and positive disposition, and is usually already satisfied with what's around them at any given moment, will never understand me. I am constantly anxious, rushing somewhere, something hurts or I'm dissatisfied with something, myself or the people around me. And even if I am glad and happy, it's too manic, my emotions and energy overflow, which is also overkill, and this whole emotional rollercoaster has pretty much worn me out in life.
In Iceland, every new day brought us more and more interesting things, and by this time I finally began to feel that coming here wasn't in vain, and that my dreams, hopes, and expectations regarding this trip were being fulfilled.
Stay tuned for the next parts, and you'll find out why!