We spent quite a bit of time at Gullfoss (as Wikipedia tells me, I misnamed this watery wonder of nature in the previous post). We hit the road without the Germans this time – we're too fast for them. That was Andrey's doing, though he's usually a paragon of unhurriedness. Apparently, he wanted to get rid of them as soon as possible.
On the way, we crossed that very Hvítá river, the one with the waterfall; it's a picturesque spot, the cliffs are solid, like chunks of dark chocolate sold by weight at our central market.
The Hvítá river is murky because it's glacial
It flows out of that very same Hofsjökull glacier that was on the horizon in the previous part. From there, by the way, it was 20 km away.
The sign tells us what good stuff is around here
There's an interesting story on the info board: in 1907, King Frederick the Seventh came to visit, and they had to build the most expensive road in Iceland's history for him – the Konungsvegur.
In Icelandic towns, and even just on roundabouts, you often come across statues of a monumental nature. At least this one has some sort of sweeping motion to it, whereas often they are totally volcanic and stern. Though, to be fair, that's a known Icelandic theme – national motifs are practically mandatory in design and architecture. These motifs are rather simple – stones, volcanoes, volcanic stones, and stony volcanoes. Sometimes, for a bit of variety, they throw in some patterned sheep's wool.
The road from Gullfoss through Flúðir didn't impress us much, so we didn't feel like staying there for the night, plus it was still a bit too early, around 4 PM. Instead, we grabbed a bite at a shop, had some "soft ice-cream," you know, the kind poured from a machine, probably in an Italian style. It's super tasty on its own, but on top of that, they sprinkle it with all sorts of Snickers, dip it in white or dark chocolate, or even Nutella if you want. It costs, of course, three lats apiece (for a large one), which predictably leaves me dumbfounded. For now, anyway, I still haven't quite gotten used to these mind-boggling, insane prices.
Fueled up a bit, we moved on to Árnes, thankfully there's a campsite there too. And right here on the way, I saw something that once again reminded me just how beautiful those moments in life given to us by travel can be. And really, all it was were some sunlit hills, with shifting shadows from the clouds falling on them, playing with the halftones of green and gray colors.
Here's a photo of the magic, but you really have to see this in motion, the static image doesn't convey the fairytale feel
Bizarre rock formations are visible along the way
Cool texture on the water
Asked the punk to take a pic of the power lines, they're beautiful
Who says technological objects always ruin the natural scenery? Sometimes they add a lot of variety and even embellish it. You just need to have an all-encompassing sense of beauty, not a selective one.
There are also headless robots like this one
No shortage of little rivers around here
The road is good so far, no complaints, though I remember there was a dirt road in some spots
We were pretty tired by now, but then an absolutely insane beauty awaited us. By evening, I'm always in a good mood, especially when the dopamine receptors have been stimulated by excessive pedaling, and when you see a landscape like this, the euphoria washes over you no worse than falling in love.
My navigation skills hinted to me that on the horizon was the famous Hekla volcano
The same one up close
And we got so carried away by these views that we didn't even stay overnight in Árnes. That's what life-giving nature does to people! The magic power of art multiplied by a hundred – that's how we felt about the volcano and the river floodplain on the horizon.
We even climbed up to a special observation point pointed out by a sign.
Even looking at this photo now, I can't hold back my emotions, it's that stunning
Andrey is testing my nerves, balancing on the edge of a cliff in strong wind
There are birds galore in Iceland, obviously, because there's plenty of fish in the sea. But Darwin shortchanged it on mammals – there's only the Arctic fox, better known to us as a clusterfox.
From the observation point we rolled on further to the Sandartunga campsite. The latter was situated among picturesque bushes, a rare case in Iceland – thick vegetation. Unfortunately, due to its naturalness and eco-friendliness, this worthy overnight spot was deprived of the standard amenities expected by children of civilization like us: namely, a shower and electricity. Because of this, it cost 3 lats instead of five, but paying just for a toilet and cold water feels somewhat awkward to poor Latvians. Fortunately, there were no signs of any live banknote-collectors aka caretakers around, just a metal mailbox. Under the pressure of circumstances, our morals sagged, and we felt too shy to put our dough in the box. True, we did open it out of curiosity and found a wad of krónur worth about 25 lats and a note in French, but the remnants of our conscience ordered us to slam the box shut before our grasping little hands reached for those papers radiating with life force.
At the campsite, as payback for the tasty soup at lunch and the enchanting evening landscape, we encountered yet another bleep-bleep. Andrey SUDDENLY realized he had left his backpack with all his savings and documents somewhere. At this point, I couldn't hold back a snarky thought. I remembered that when my bike was stolen, he said he wished the same would happen to him, because it's a huge shock in life, a chance to change something. "Well, here's your chance!" I thought to myself. But, as they teach us in yoga, thoughts are like clouds – they come and go. So this thought went away too, because by nature I'm not mean at all, and of course I still wanted Andrey's bag to be found. After mulling it over, he decided that the last time he took it off was at that very observation point ten kilometers back. He had to rush back there at full tilt.
Meanwhile, life at the campsite was bubbling. Because of the abundance of bushes, you couldn't really tell there were people around, but nevertheless, there were quite a few. An elderly Icelandic couple, who didn't speak English, charged my phone in their funny little minibus with a sofa inside. A Danish girl came running over with a payment terminal, mentioned she was working here as a nanny for the summer and moonlighting at the campsite on weekends, coming by to collect dough from the guests, which she successfully pulled off with me, so we didn't manage to break our moral vows this time.
While Andrey unhurriedly, as is his habit, cycled to get his backpack, I found a grill, gathered some dry branches from the bushes to save on gas, and started cooking a Mexican soup from a packet.
An utterly archetypal Icelandic dude was strolling unhurriedly past me in a gray patterned wool sweater, equally gray wool pants, and I think even a matching hat, though not gray. He was saying "kitty-kitty-kitty" in his own, Icelandic way, and the purpose of his wandering became crystal clear to me. Just to convince me of it completely, he melancholically uttered: "You haven't seen a cat around here, have you?".
Naturally, I couldn't reply with anything other than: "And you – a bag of money?". Just as phlegmatically as the first time, he said: "Is there an owner's name in it? If so, there's nothing to worry about, they'll find it and return it."
From this simple phrase and the money lying in the mailbox unattended, you can understand what life is like in a country with almost no criminals. Statistical figures are one thing, but when you personally encounter the everyday little things that confirm them, you believe it so much more – that's just how our brains are wired.
As for Andrey, don't worry – he found the backpack right where he expected it, and even made it in time for dinner.
