A Stroll up Eyjafjallajökull

Eyjafjallajökull the word was on everyone's lips in the spring of 2010 - well actually it wasn't as it as it is almost impossible for non-Icelandic speakers to say. It was fun watching the various newsreaders try to pronounce it as they explained why a relatively small volcanic eruption in far off Iceland managed to ground planes all over Europe for a week. Back then, living in Prague, it just meant that we got to see more of Steve as he couldn't fly out for work. Fast forward 8 years, literally a whole world's journey away for us, and the four of us are sweating our way upwards towards the crater site. 

I longed to do a long multiday hike in Iceland but two and a half people carrying everything that is needed for four, is hard work. Plus we'd seen the hiking huts, one long platform with mattresses in a row, the children's song "There were ten in the bed and the little one rolled over" came to mind. The final straw when we found out the cost £60 each, "We could stay in a five star hotel for £240!" spluttered Steve. Instead he came with the ingenious idea to walk half of the Fimmvörduháls trek, stop for lunch at the world's newest mountains created by the 2010 eruption, then return to the truck for a cosy night in our own beds. We would then drive around to Skógafoss, the other end of the walk, and hike up to where we stopped the preceding day. It was so genius, that I had to refrain from teasing him on how soft he had become. The kids could easily manage the 50km over a couple of days, especially if there was chocolate involved. 

The road in to the northern part was another F - road. Our guidebook gave dire warnings that it was only for large, amphibious 4x4 with experienced drivers, so we proceeded very cautiously. We needn't have worried, the scaremongering was just to deter the rented tiny Suzuki Jimmy drivers. The river crossings were fun but not at all taxing for Truckie. Of course we found that out only once I had done the right thing and waded across to check the river's depth. Sometimes being the navigator sucks - that glacial melt water was very cold! 

  The trek turned out to be a stunner too. Up through the birch "forest", prompting the girls to tell us their only Icelandic joke several times each ("What should you do if you are lost in an Icelandic forest?" - "Stand up") to alpine meadows where we could see part of the massive Vatnajökull ice cap. As we continued forever upwards, the scenery become starker as we crunched our way through black and red larval fields. Further up still, the sun reflected blindingly off the snowy slopes as we trekked between two glaciers. The two newest mountains in Europe turned out to be black larva cones, a perfect place for a picnic.

The following day, after an hours drive, we started the other end of the walk -completely confusing the hikers we had met the preceding day. Twenty six or so waterfalls, we lost count, fall in the canyon below the path. It was lush, green and far less steep that the preceding day. The views were perfect as distant glaciers glinted in the blue sky. Each of the waterfalls would have been amazing in its own right but so many in one canyon was awe inspiring. The girls had to be lured up the last couple of slopes with the promise of lunch, only to find dark grey clouds whipping in at speed carrying a deluge. You have to be prepared for "four seasons in one day" in Iceland, so out came the full gear as we raced back down the mountain. Soggy sandwiches were had eventually, when it had slackened to just a downpour.

Iceland is very much on the global tourist horizons. The numbers of visitors has grown exponentially over the last 8 years. In a country of just 330,000 people, over 2 million visitors a year is an awful lot of people. Tourists are drawn to its unique and pristine environment causing a lot of strain. Because of this in 2015, wild camping was banned. Something we can understand, as so many people hire tiny campers with no toilets and facilities are few and far between. We even saw signs on the driveways to farms, asking people not to poo there, it must have gotten very bad. So now the campsites are absolutely bursting at the seams and the facilities unable to cope with the numbers. Lots of people camp because the country is so expensive, although it was also the most expensive country in the world we've been to for camping and you had to pay even more for a shower. As we sat dry and cosy in Truckie, I was so pleased we were not in a tent. It would be a beautiful country to wild camp, for those of us who can "leave no trace" but it has always been our policy to abide by the rules of the country, so we didn't. Along Route 1, especially in the south-east the crowds could only be escaped by hiking off up into the interior. However, the place is absolutely unique and special so the hoards didn't detract from the wonder. Part of our problem I feel, is that the four years on the road has spoilt us. We've seen the most amazing places on all seven continents, often we've had the place virtually to ourselves. 

One of the most otherworldly sights came on our last day on our clockwise circumnavigation of the island, the sapphire blue icebergs marooned on the black volcanic sand at Jökuksárlon. Huge chunks of ice has made their way over a thousand years to the bottom of one of the offshoots of the Vatnajökull icecap, where they break off into a lagoon. The lake is littered with icebergs of amazing shape sculpted by the elements and every colour between ice white to deep blue and every turquoise. Some have striped layers of ash, from ancient volcanic eruptions and a couple were completely black. The icebergs can bob around for several years in the lagoon before breaking free in the rushing waters of the shortest river in Iceland, which takes them a few hundred metres to the ocean. The tides then maroon them along the black beach, so you can get close to marvel at their ethereal beauty.

From there it was just a few hundred kilometres back to meet the ferry at Seydisfjörddur for the 3 day journey at sea to Denmark. A sunny afternoons stop in Torshavn, the capital of the Faroe Islands, gave us a chance to explore its tiny historic centre, something we'd saved for the way back. Then it was just 2 more days drive home. 

Incredible Iceland

It's amazing how small you can feel even on a 6350 tonne ferry but looking up at the mighty walls of the fjord in north-east Iceland, our ship felt like a tiny bath toy. The cliff tops were obscured by swirling clouds and eventually the brightly painted town of Seydisfjörddur emerged from the mists. We were looking forward to the 3 weeks we had to explore the country. We heard many visitors only stayed for less than a week, we hoped the extra time would mean we could get off the beaten track and explore more of the country.   The lure of puffins called us up and over the mountains that first morning. I'm sure the view from the top of the pass was breath-taking but we could only see a few metres ahead with the thick fog. Luckily the puffins near Borgarfjördur Eystri nest very close to the viewing platform, so we were able to see them as they checked the coast was clear outside their nesting burrows. Serious and diligent parents they may be but with mouthfuls of sand eels for their chicks, there is something absolutely adorable and rather comical about them. We all instantly fell in love.  Route 1 circumnavigates the whole of Iceland, it is possible to see a lot by just sticking on that road but where is the excitement in that? F-roads, only passable in the summer, sounded like much more fun. So we set off into the Highlands where fresh volcanoes pop up on a regular basis; glaciers sparkle in the distance; and the overused phrase "land of fire and ice" seems very apt.  Waking up to blindingly bright sunshine peeping in through the blinds, it looked like it was going to be a perfect day to hike the back route into Askja caldera. Alisha stormed ahead, relishing in the solitude and how quickly her legs, now far longer than when she was last in the mountains, could carry her upwards. Loving reading she used it as a chance to catch up on the next plot twist, we'd find her at the top of ridges and forks in the path waiting for us to catch up nose buried in her book. Way behind, we realised how much we owed Alisha in the 4 years we travelled. She had constantly entertained her sister with stories on long hikes but now as a teenager she felt she had mostly grown out of it - Steve and I were poor substitutes. Looking around us as we slowly made our way along the high ridge towards the side of the volcano, all we could see was larva fields stretching in every direction. We felt on the top of the world but just over the lip was something even more beautiful. At the bottom of the caldera was a smooth lake, perfectly reflecting the snow covered sides. The view was breath-taking, it was so perfect it looked almost unreal. However once we stopped marvelling at the vista we realised we had a more practical issue, how to get down the slippery scree slope covered in snow. We slipped cautiously down the first few metres, inching our way down, it was nerve wracking as we fell all over the place. Trying a new tactic I tried striding purposely along the steep snowy shale, far more successful and safer. The rest of the family soon joined in, racing gigantic jumps zigzagging down the slope, whooping with joy- it was exhilarating. Closer up the lake looked even more magical, without a ripple the clouds and snowy cliffs were perfectly reflected in its mirror-like surface. A second caldera was waiting for us at our planned picnic spot overlooking both, this one filled with milky turquoise waters. I wished we bought our swimming costumes when we learnt that the waters were warm, what a lovely way it would have been to break a 18km hike.   Being on the join of twin tectonic plates, the Earth's crust beneath Iceland is a third of its usual thickness. As well as volcanoes there is a whole host of geothermal wonders - steaming vents; belching mud pools; piping fumaroles; bright mineral deposits; and the waft of sulphur is often in the air. Near Lake Myvatn there were so many natural wonders, you had to look out where you were stepping. This geothermal energy is harnessed in one of the nearby valleys. Pipes bringing the super heated water down to the power station, are capped by futuristic looking aluminium pods. It looked like we had driven into one of those sci-fi shows from the 80's set in a multi-hued steaming luna landscape. Even more bizarre was a free standing shower standing in a small lay-by down the hill, just a pipe with a shower head nothing else. It provided free hot water from the powers station. Sadly I've no picture as someone was having a good scrub down under it.  The tiny town of Hofsós, on the intriguinly named Tröllaskagi Peninsula (yes, that does mean troll peninsula), has a population of just 190 people (and thankfully no evidence of trolls). Not much seemed to be going on but it did have an outdoor designer-looking geothermal swimming pool in the most perfect location. Overlooking the fjord below, you could keep an eye out for whales whilst you did your laps or just laze in the hot pot and enjoy the light playing on waves below. Hot pots and pools filled with hot geothermal water are popular with locals and tourists alike. We'd already tried the nature baths at Myvarn, wallowing in the deliciously warm waters whilst Lucy stacked tiny pebble cairns with a like a long-haired zen master. We joined the local pensioners for a morning dip at one of the municipal pools in Reykjavik, while they stretched singing Icelandic folk songs, the girls whizzed down the slide. When the downpour and wind dropped the temperature down to just 8°C, everyone made for the steaming hot pots and enjoyed the freezing rain on our faces whilst our bodies parboiled.  One of the amazing things about Iceland is the sheer amount of natural wonders; geothermal surprises; and just jaw-dropping scenery - particularly in places like the Snæfellsnes Peninsular. We could totally understand why Jules Verne decided it made a good entry point in "Journey to the Centre of the Earth." You can also see why the belief in hidden people like gnomes, elves, fairies and mountain spirits exist. The shapes of the eerie larval formations are so unique they seem to defy any conventional explanation.  Horrifically whilst most visitors, like us, were enjoying the chance of seeing puffins, whales, and the unique Icelandic horse in the wild others were more intent on eating them. Tasting menus in Reykjavik were offering a whole variety of endangered species. It sounds that although very few Icelandic people eat whale, the demand is now coming from tourists. I am sure the local fish we had, in a different restaurant, tasted far better. After a couple of days in Reykjavik, it was time to explore the southern part of the island.              

Feeling Fresh in the Faroes

What's the best place to get away from the heatwave in the rest of Europe? How about a rock in the middle of the Atlantic far north east from the top of Scotland. Even in August the Faroes Islands is a bracing place with swirling fog, refreshing downpours and a very fresh breeze. Goodbye shorts and sunglasses, hello gortex and woolly hats. We definitely felt as far away from the scorching temperatures of the rest of the continent as we could. 

Why the Faroe Islands?  You might ask. Well for our last trip in the truck, we had decided to explore the unique environment of Iceland and the ferry from Denmark offered a few days stop in the Faroes, so why not?  We are always interested in different sort of places. 

We know this five week trip won't be the same as our 4 years driving around the world but we wanted an exciting destination that would be great to do in the truck. 

In the week's drive northwards through Denmark we skirted up the coast, exploring the sand dunes and long sandy beaches. Alisha turned 13 beside a trout lake full of clever fishes that alluded Steve's rod.

The day and a half ferry to the Faroes was full, with 1,400 on board. It was half full of families of Faroese returning home in their caravans and half full of mainland Europeans with their own cars. As well as cars, the hold was full of goods trailers all carrying fish from the smell that permeated all the stairwells. It was easy and smooth sailing, the only shock was the expense and poor quality of the food available. 

We emerged from the boat's bowels at 10pm, into pitch black and driving rain. As always in the morning, everything looks better. As we drove across two of the larger islands, we got to appreciate the beauty of the soaring green cliffs dramatically drop down into the sea below. Just off shore, weirdly shaped rock stacks full of nesting seabirds seemed to be round every corner. These amazing formations left us questioning just how they were geologically possible. Grey layers of basalt rock from ancient volcanic eruptions lay in stripes interspersed with emerald grass clinging to the vertical cliffs above us. Deep furrows in the rocks were formed over millennia by the many waterfalls plunging downwards. 

Mulafossur Waterfall drops dramatically straight into the sea. The village behind sits in a bowl of mountains crowned by clouds. A couple of hours later the optical illusion of Lake Leitisvatn, where it appears the lake at the top of the cliff is higher than the sea below, eluded us as driving rain and mist made for a very wet walk. 

All that precipitation creates a wonderfully fecund and lush surroundings, there are few trees, but the grass is startlingly green. What I loved most of all was that many of the houses were roofed with turf. Great insulation, it also looked beautiful and prompted much speculation amongst the girls if you needed to mow your roof or just send one of the many sheep up to keep it tidy. Hanging under some of the eaves we saw the traditional style cod drying and fermenting. 

It is only possible to see the black volacanic sand beach of Saksun at low tide. The way in is through a gorge with waterfalls dropping into the shallow tidal waters, grass clinging to the steep wall where a little soil had gathered. In the tiny isolated village the turf roofed church stood looking cozy as it was buffeted in the winds coming off the sea. 

Around the islands grass was being cut and dried, ready for winter fodder for the 70,000 sheep that live in the Faroes (human population is under 50,000). I've never seen tractors fitted with extra tyres on both front and back but here they are needed to give traction on the steep ground. In some places the grass was painstakingly stacked on multiple wires, strung between fence posts and netted, to help it dry and stop it blowing away in the wind. 

The three main islands are linked by long undersea tunnels making it easy to get around. The excellent roads snaked over high passes, giving amazing vistas over the swirling seas around every corner. So it was just typical that on one of the only single width roads, we encountered a local truck much the same size as us. I waved Steve back into a tiny passing place, whilst the other truck inched past with just a couple of centimetres between the two vehicles. It reminded us of all the hairy passing places we've had to navigate all over the world. This time I was very thankful that there was a barrier, stopping up plunging hundreds of metres down to the seas below. 

The capital, Torshavn, seemed a busy lively place with smart shops and a striking modern cathedral. Knowing that we have several hours to explore the city on the way back on the ferry we spent our time out enjoying the islands' beautiful countryside. With just 3 days in the Faroes, we only scratched the surface but it is did give us a chance to admire its deep fjords, amazing scenery and, of course, refreshing weather - that summer heatwave seemed a long way away.