Glymur, Borgarnes, camping in the swamp and first of all: getting a car

I'm awake early, itching for things to do but H. is still soundly asleep (sounds familiar?). The airport is practically right outside the window, to the other direction there's a rock strewn mossy wasteland populated by seagulls. I take a quick walk outside but it's still drizzling and there's not much to walk to anyway: There's the guesthouse grounds, then there's the highway and the airport beyond it and an uninviting business park on the other side. I spend the rest of the morning reading up on things to do in the Lonely Planet.

After a very basic breakfast we call our car rental and wait for their shuttle to pick us up which takes quite a while but then we're good to go: a huge black beat up Ford Escape with four wheel drive and a loudly roaring engine will be our home for the next three weeks. We stock up on food at the Bonus market in Keflavik - we've brought some Ramen but packing space has been very limited - and head towards the capital. The weather is grey, drizzly and overall uninviting but after we've passed Mosfellsbaer it clears up somewhat and views open up left and right, there is the sea and on the other side: the mountains, vibrantly green hillsides transitioning into rocky crags with the odd creek and small river rushing down the mountainside. I'm writing this several years after the trip but the wonder of these first sunny hours is still vivid in my mind.

While H. has slept in I've made a plan for the day which involves seeing Iceland's highest waterfall, the Glymur - though apparently that is up for debate as there may be another one around beating it to the title. I don't mind though, especially since the text says the waterfall can be a bit underwhelming after dry weather and there definitely has been a lot of rain lately. 

 

 

To reach the waterfall we need to follow Hvalfjördur all the way in so we miss out on the new tunnel but get a lot of nice views instead. The Glymur parking lot is a little ways in towards the mountains alongside a pebbly riverbank. Apparently the spot is popular as there are a lot of "no camping" signs around - not a very warm welcome but we don't intend to stay here anyway.

 

 

The weather deteriorates as we set on the clear path which leads through a valley and a little cave down to the river where we have to ford via a log and some boulders; there is a rope to help maintain balance. There is also a small gathering of people who seem to be in the process of making up their minds about whether to make the crossing or not or who are watching those who attempt it. Of course we take the (fortunately strictly metaphorical) plunge and begin the ascent to the plateau on the other side of the river. It's steep, wet and partially muddy, not particularly far but I still don't care for making the descent here. The information board at the parking lot said something about fording the river above the waterfall and descending on the other side so that's what we are going to do. 

Meanwhile it's starting to rain in earnest, the kind of drizzle that will have you sopping wet in minutes without you even noticing it - but we don't care a lot as we've finally reached the top and can overlook the narrow canyon and the water disappearing into it. The rock walls look dark and foreboding, circling seagulls being the only specks of light.

 

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The river is wide up here, not very deep but enough to fill our shoes should we leave them on, so barefoot it is. Of course the water is icy cold. Fortunately all the pebbles in the riverbed are nice and smooth and after some squealing on my part we reach the other side cold but, for the most part, dry. Putting the socks and boots back on feels amazing and we make our way back down a grassy slope, it's very relaxing.

Unfortunately somewhere around there we lose the path. I can't recall if it was marked at all and if so whether we payed attention to it - I was just such a noob back then, it's unbelievable! Anyways we follow one of many paths which in hindsight was made by the sheep which are grazing the slope so it peters out in the scree leaving  us still pretty high on the slope without a path to follow downhill. We backtrack a little and, while checking with OSMand, follow another path that's branching off only to meet the same fate somewhere further along in the scree. I start panicking inwardly as I there isn't a lot of power left on my phone either; meanwhile H. spots a faint trail leading rather steeply down the hillside. Whether this one was made by humans beats me but it's definitely not the recommended hiking trail. There are rocks, a lot of mud, some slipping but suffice it to say that after some rather long minutes of descent we make it back to the valley floor where we soon hit on the main trail - and what a blessing it is! Back at the car we both need to change into dry clothes, my pants are quite muddy and my jacket will take 3 days to dry - it's a good thing I've brought a spare.

We head back through the drizzle along the Hvalfjördur and to Borgarnes where we buy some cooking gas and a SIM card at the petrol station - it's the last year we'll be going through this foreign SIM card thing and I sure am not going to miss it, it's quite the hassle until I get it to work and we are able to get the weather forecast. The news are not great, it's going to rain until 10 a. m. tomorrow.

After Borgarnes we head out west to Snaefellsnes looking for a place to camp. The terrain is flat and grassy with mountains visible in the far background and long bands of lava rivers crossing the fields; it looks like something out of The Lord of the Rings, the landscape through which the Orc army carries Merry and  Pippin. As it's so nice and flat around here there is also a lot of farmland and fences but we manage to find a spot to pitch the tent in the midst of one of those lava rivers near a swampy lake. The ground is dirt strewn with pebbles, everything looks very bleak, especially in this light; it's not pretty, but it's definitely very out-of-this-world and somehow beautiful in its own right. We had planned to have soup for dinner but for some reason H. doesn't get the cooker to work and so it's bread and jam and then getting comfortable in the sleeping bag while rain batters the tent. 

 

 

Looking back, "uninviting" seems to be a suitable word to summarize our first day in Iceland but I don't remember feeling that way. It's all an adventure, especially the hike which was much more demanding than anything I'd done before - mainly the part where we lost the path - but has served as a cautionary experience and has made me wary of sheep trails in particular!