According to the plan, we were going to spend the night at the Langbrók Cafe campsite, but the wind was blowing at our backs, and it was a sin not to take advantage of it, so we decided to push on a little further to the small town of Hvolsvöllur (I won't vouch for the pronunciation). As you remember, the hardest part of the trip was over for us, and ahead we expected smooth asphalt, towns with stores, campsites with electricity, normal food, and generally a pleasant and stress-free life. Did it turn out that way? On that day, when we had just left the interior, it seemed like it would. As always, it turned out that Andrey and I are far too naive, although that's good for living – if you evaluate it realistically, moving forward is rather hard. What surprises the new days brought us, you really will find out only from the next parts.
The rainbow was practically a triple one, and behind it – the heavens opened up
It got warm and green, waterfalls all around
We decided to drop by the most beautiful one
And not for nothing, it's impressive
Pay attention to the foreground
These funny little birds were swimming back and forth the whole time we were hanging out near the spray.
Soon after the "end of the shitshow" sign, the asphalt appeared too
By sign I mean the one I already talked about, with warnings for drivers.
Inhabited places: campsites with a long list of services and a restaurant
The storm clouds were catching up, and we were running away into the sun
We had unprecedented luck with the weather this time: the rain just couldn't catch us, but the huge flat plain allowed us to see the clouds and storm fronts over the entire horizon, glowing in the sunbeams and spewing all the sorrow of the earth into the valley between the mountains we had left an hour ago.
Gloom behind us
We barely found the campsite in town, had to ask at the Gallery Pizza joint, and a sweet young Icelandic girl told us everything. The joint, by the way, was packed tight; apparently, pizzerias are scarce in a town with a population of 800. The campsite turned out to be totally lame: the price was almost the same as the others, but there was no shower or hot water. The caretaker lives separately; if you want to ask anything, you have to go pay him a visit. They didn't forget to come collect the money, though. This, by the way, was one of two places in Iceland where they didn't accept our card. Savages, I tell ya.
My notes say that I ought to tell you a bit more about the campsites. What exactly, though, is unclear, because I think I already mentioned the paid gas showers. And the friendly and knowledgeable caretakers. Prices are from 4 to 6 lats per person, the tent is free. There's always cold water from a tap; hot water is also available if there's a shower. A washer and dryer were only in Þingvellir (and Reykjavík too, I believe), and you could sort of dry your clothes in Landmannalaugar as well. In Hvanngil, you could maybe secretly hang them in the boiler room, but it's risky, the caretakers are vigilant! There was electricity in the interior lodgings everywhere except for the little house by the lake, but for 2.5 lats a device, so haggle to charge several at once for the same money. Campsites also usually have a map of the nearby area – a large one on the door, and a pocket one separately for money. Sometimes there's advice on where to go. They ask you to take your trash with you, since there's nowhere to put it in the mountains, but for hikers and cyclists, there are still trash cans, though you have to look for them. You'll always find a few cars at the campsites, so you can ask drivers to charge your devices if you have a car charger. I think they won't refuse – after all, people in Iceland understand the needs of touristos. Buses also run through campsites, quite regularly, and not even just in one direction, but to different places, so evacuation won't be a problem. The schedule usually hangs outside on the caretakers' booth (which doubles as the info center).
Directions to the caretaker
Having settled in at the campsite, we decided to celebrate our salvation from the wild depths of Iceland by eating pizza. We abandoned our bags and tent (acted recklessly for the umpteenth time, but it's Iceland! A society without evil). Headed back to Pizza Gallery, ordered one large for the two of us, for about 12 lats I think, fairly reasonable. Water is free, by the way, if you order food. Andrey, however, was out of luck: the pizza was not only genuinely spicy, which he can't handle, but it also had chicken on it, which wasn't reflected in the menu. Moral of the story: vegetarians are always better off asking about such things outright.
The campsite is bad, but the sunset is good
Since we've already left the interior of Iceland, it's worth mentioning it once more. Few things can compare with the magnificence of the pictures presented to us by the mighty artist named volcanic activity. Truth be told, in Árnes and Geysir it was also quite transcendental in places. At first there was a feeling that each day was cooler and more interesting than the last, but roughly around the storm this trend broke, and they all became mind-blowing. This one, however, can be called the last delightfully eye-pleasing day, but by no means the last one to be firmly remembered. Why – you'll find out from the next parts.