Today was the Golden Circle tour, one of the ‘must do’ Icelanding things.
Or possibly Þings.
The instructions were to wait on the doorstep of the hostel between 0800-0830 for pickup; The shuttle van turned up at 0829ish.
Thee’d been some issue with paperwork, so the shuttle which had been going to take us (There were two of us from the hostel – myself and A? from Germany) to meet the coach at the tour company headquarters was instead going to take us, plus a few others from different lodgings, to meet the coach in the parking area of a service station.
Amazingly, this actually worked.
Also, it was snowing when we transferred between vehicles, and we were still in Reykjavik.
It got worse further out, as this bloody awful photo out the front of the bus is trying to demonstrate.
The first stop was at Þingvellir, a rift valley between two continental plates and the site of the Icelandic Parliament for most of it’s history.
You can’t really see it in these pictures, but there’s a solid layer of ice on the grille of the white coach, clear enough to see the lettering of the number plate through.
It was chosen, I’m told, because it’s reasonably accessible from everywhere, and wasn’t too bad a spot to set up camp, which makes me wonder what the hell the rest of the place looks like.
I think that’s water, rather than snow, in my hair, but I’m not sure.
It was bloody cold when the wind picked up, which happened frequently, despite the jacket. I’d have been half-dead in my grey hoodie.
Tried for a couple of panaoramas in a vague hope of capturing the feel of the place.
Selfie with A?
I’m going with A? because I’m less than sure that I’ve remembered his name correctly – There are a couple of options, and I can’t remember which one it was. In any case, nice chap.
While walking back up this path towards the coach we got a flyover from a Raven, but my photos … were crap.
Next, Gullfoss.
It was somehow an even more exposed place, to the extent that my first move was to go indoors and scope out a place to put on the merino thermal layer I’d thrown in a pocket just in case.
Well, this was the case; Best 200 Króna I spent all day, for bathroom access so that I could change.
I also had lunch before proceeding down to the falls, working on the theory that we had a chunk of time, and most of the folks from the bus headed straight down, so it’d be less crowded a bit later.
The tourist emporium had decent windows and insulation, so that you could observe the frozen wasteland in comfort.
The snow on the path had frozen into ice, so most people took the gravel off to the side, particularly on the slopes.
The wind wasn’t helping; I saw adults being blown off balance out at the more exposed bits, and at least one child deliberately being slid along the ice by the wind.
This is the higher level.
There are stairs to get down to the falls level.
The expression in this shot, I think, is a combination of “How Cool Is This?” and “I Can No Longer Feel My Own Hands”.
They warned us about the slippery footing on the stairs down, and indeed on the rocks by the falls.
And it’s a long way down, and that water is at maybe 2°C.
Despite the ice and some poor footwear choices on A?’s part, we risked the stairs and did not die, though note the Death-Grip on that railing. And the ice on the steps.
Finally, or so I thought, Haukadalur, place of geothermal activity, boiling waters, and home of Geysir.
In all honesty, I wasn’t expecting to be impressed by this stop.
I’ve been to Rotorua, I’ve seen geysers.
What I’d not seen was the surface of the water pulsate as pressure changes happened underneath, then the whole central portion of the pool drop, and then an explosion of water punch straight up.
None of that delicate tracery bollocks here.
I’m told that this is the colour of the Blue Lagoon, and it’s due to algae.
It’s … pretty blue.
Especially when compared with the algae-free pool next door.
The final stop was a toilet break where refreshments and the ever present souvenirs could be purchased.
The actual spot was an Icelandic Horse (there’s a specific breed) place of some sort, though I’m hazy on whether one rode the horses, or simply looked at them.
In any case, my attention was taken up by an Icelandic Cat, who wandered out to graciously allow us to pay attention and provide pettings.
Thee was a dog racing around who was very interested in the cat, but also kept to a set distance from it.
The guy in this shot was, I think, trying to protect the cat from what he thought was a menace, but based on body language of the critters, and a casually-readied paw, I suspect that the dog knew exactly how far a cat can reach and exactly how pointy their feet can be when they put their minds to it.
The same happened here, when this cat stopped in the middle of a puddle to fluff up, arch it’s back, and demonstrate to the dog that, in fact, it was not welcome to come over and say “Hi”.
Seriously, it’s not standing on a dry spot, it just walked right through in the shallower bits, having selected a line so that it didn’t have to adjust course to hit said shallower bits.
And that was the Golden Circle, and it was awesome.
Back at the hostel we’d acquired a new room-mate, Deep from generally the East Coast of the USA, who was dead to the world when I first got back, but eventually surfaced, and came along when Aaron & Amanuel (which I’m pretty sure I spelled wrong earlier) & David & I headed out for another go at seeing the Northern Lights.
We did see them, but they were behind a couple of bloody great lights at the harbour, and it didn’t look much like moving would improve the situation. Still, it was nice to know that last time wasn’t a fluke, and while they were faint, they still looked unreal.
My evening ended at maybe midnight, after a bunch of folks gathered with a bottle of … vodka, I think? … in the lobby, and general socialness happened for a few hours.
I made them vote on which postcard was going to my parents, and which to some friends.
Everyone else’s evening ended at maybe 0330 when the rest of Room 33 came back, trying to be quiet, and doing a pretty good job of it, I thought.