Monday August 14, 2023

Cold in the morning. The entire valley is in the shade. I brush my teeth and shave in the sanitary station. But there are seven people waiting for the two showers. Too much for me. 

I follow the little brook next to our tent uphill. It’s very steep but without using my hands I make it to a place behind a giant boulder. I undress gingerly on a slippery rock, and then step into the water in a place where water splashes down from above. Boy, it’s cold! Must be straight from the glacier. I think the water touches me everywhere, but think seconds, not minutes.

Yet I feel much cleaner and after cornflakes and hot tea (thanks to our camping burner) am ready for action. What also helps is a clear blue sky and the sun now entering into the valley.

We decide to go for a short hike. The path leaves from the campground. The first 500 meters (yards) are on an almost vertical mountain side. There are no trees, and a very narrow foot trail zigzags uphill. The moss has worn off from the trail, and a surprisingly firm dark-brown mostly organic soil gives tenuous footing as we move uphill.

From above the peculiar landscape that makes up our valley is plainly visible. A perfectly flat valley floor, and mountains that rise sheer out of it.

On top, the trail merges onto an old access road. It is very rough, and sometimes there are rocky thresholds a foot (30 cm) high, and it leads past deep canyons.

I am therefore surprised when I hear a vehicle working uphill behind us. When we are taking a picture of a deep mountain valley we see it manœuvring a sharp bend and later it passes us.

The landscape is beautiful. Very green, but no bushes or trees whatsoever; thick layers of moss on every mountain top. Some mountains have side peaks, sometimes also covered with moss. Deep below we see meandering rivers and streams.

And suddenly we see the 4-wheel drive Defender very carefully turning around. Tricky business with a canyon on each side of the road. Ten minutes later we pass him, parked on a rocky platform, window open, older man behind the wheel.

´All well with you and the car?’  A simple start of a conversation. I have hundreds of them on our trips. Strange, because I am not very social. But it’s very easy for me to talk to people. And strange enough, even easier for people to talk to me.

It turns out that Frits is 78 years old and from Switserland and he is an off-road aficionado. He tells us about places where he has been, and technical details of his car. He films his adventures with a Gopro but doesn’t put it on internet because he wants the trails to be quiet. But in the end he gives us his email. He will send us some of his films.

Reminds me of getting gas at North Cape - the extreme northern tip of Norway. In fact, of continental Europe, I think. There we happened to meet two English couples in cars that drew my attention. They told us that they just finished a trip by car to Beijing. And before that they had driven from Cape Town to Cairo - the old english dream (Was it Cecil Rhodes?) to build a train track between these two cities. There followed an interesting talk about their adventures, which in turn inspired me to new expeditions. Somehow we often meet interesting people.

We follow the trail ultimately back to the camp, which is completely deserted. So we relax and take a long shower. I continue reading Südamerika, the account of a German who traveled there extensively in 1885. Fascinating reading, especially after our recent trip there. He is now on his way on horseback from Buenos Aires to Mendoza - northern Argentina. Circumstances were a bit different 150 years ago.

But reality calls me back to Iceland (what a life I have!). We go to Vik for food and visiting the famous black beach.

The road back to the black top is adventurous again and Didi is enjoying himself immensely navigating our Duster over the rough terrain.

In Vik we are able to stock up on food and diesel and go to the black beach, which is attractive to me for two reasons. Firstly of course because the sand is volcanic black. I walk barefoot, but I seem to be the only one. Iceland is apparently too cold to attract beach entertainment. Most people are dressed in jackets even though the sun shines.

The second point of interest is the peculiar rock formations into the sea. They are a bit far away but plainly visible. A group of misformed columns extending from the beach into the sea. Nothing major, don’t get excited, but still interesting.

Then we return to our camp where we relax. Didi again cooks dinner: rice and tomato soup.

After the dishes are done I listen to the sounds of the campground - some children voices, people doing dishes at the comfort station, the sound of a cooking stove, the little brook. All peaceful noises. I’ll drink some tea and return to the pampa’s of South America. Where is my book…?