18.06 A warm-up before a big climb; scenes of Iceland from forthcoming hikes.

Not a lot to add to the visuals.






Hummocky moraine, a ground cover that extends over parts of the country





They don't get much steeper than this as editor struggles bravely with damaged knee.




These are definitely not large 'sno-cones'. An extremely dull weather day, but always exciting.




A view from the peak of Mount Hverfjall overlooking a volcano, a recent hike.




On the way down, following a goat's path. At times like this, the idea of four legs, although not
attractive, would be most useful.




A couple of birds looking to break the ice. Why are they blue (icebergs, not 'icebirds'), people ask?
Our new theory is that if you stayed in the cold so long wouldn't you turn blue, too.
Aren't you sorry you asked?




Jenni calls for a rope; campground below




Thought of showing one more iceberg before they melt in the quickly 'heating climate'. The black
streaks are a reminder of the 2010 eruption.





A quicker way to get down Mount Sulur, an incredible mountain experience. This began as a fall and
turned into the new sport of glissading. Actually, fun provided the brakes work.



Each waterfall differs and there are a multitude of them. This is Godafoss



Breaking camp on the morning of the 62nd birthday. Thankful I'm nearly young.


Cheers,

Jenni and Jeffrey

18.05 Skogarvoss, waterfalls and rapids a plenty; a rugged fairyland.

Location, location, location—works every time.




At the top of Skogarvoss, a rugged fairyland.



Snack time in the rock nests, for the little ones. A little patience helps the photographer.


Our first night in the tent proved to be a success. For reasons unfathomable, the sun shone from the
moment we began setting up our shelter until after breakfast the next morning. We took advantage of the situation
and developed a working system for the weeks to follow. It’s quite simple. We arrive in a town which might have
a population from less than a hundred to a few thousand. We register, pay our fees, inquire how the shower
facilities work and then proceed to erect our house. In the morning, we dismantle our home, pack it into a
small carry-bag, strip the beds, squeeze them into a sack each, fit the house, beds, pillows into a luggage bag,
pack the car and move to the next destination. We are extremely grateful that we don’t have to disassemble the
motor car. Jenni has no idea where the components fit.



Jenni reaches a safe position after some very tricky climbing on the edge. We followed some youngsters
who had taken the wrong path. Silly us.




One of many multiple falls and rapids along the Skogar River.




A full frontal of the Skogar Falls. We camped below it and viewed it in good light at 3am.


Each campsite has a different shower system. A few allow unlimited shower time, most charge on a meter
per 3 or 5 minutes period. That’s fine when we shower together as Jenni needs less time than her dear husband.
However, we are stymied when the shower cubicles are strictly for ‘his and hers’. A person walks into the
bathroom weighed down by a pocketful of change, secures the shower, readies oneself, feeds the meter and begins
to wash vigorously. The tricky part is getting out the cubicle and keeping the dry clothes from dropping on the
floor or getting wet, especially pants and socks. Ideally, one should be fit before entering the shower.
Why you may ask? To avoid athlete's foot, of course. By darting around the bathroom, one has a fair chance
of outpacing this malady.

Washing the clothes can be done manually or using the washing machine facilities. The drying of the said garments
is the challenge. However, a little imagination helps. In one place, there was a common room with water heaters.
We covered the heaters with our wet clothes. The little sunshine helps, ably supported by the heater in the car.
With clothes strewn all over the interior, we look like a traveling second-hand clothes shop. Perhaps, Jenni won’t
take offence from the last comment. It’s all part of the day.



Jenni on track through the wet wonderland as sun makes a brief (very) appearance.




Enjoying trying to capture birds in action.


We hiked eight miles through a rugged fairyland following the course of the Skogar River. It’s amazing
how many falls, rapids, twists and turns it makes in a relatively short distance. We have since found the
country is covered in waterfalls. Wherever one looks, particularly upwards, one sees water flowing from each
and every mountain, sometimes spaced at less than 100 meters apart. Not only are there a myriad of these flows
but they gush and barrel down the mountains powerfully. The idea is not to become blasé about waterfalls—we humans
tend to get used to wonders and thereafter take them for granted. Nevertheless, we find ourselves not taking
photographs of these sights that in another country would be considered breathtaking—the Sahara desert, for example.




A country filled with cascading waterfalls and weeping mountains.




The little ones waiting for dinner. Service is rather poor. Folks left for take-outs a while back.


Spending the night camped alongside Iceland's third highest waterfall, was a delightful experience. Fortunately,
in summer they don't turn off the water flow, allowing for an all day and night splash.


Cheers,

Jenni and Jeffrey

18.04 A Classic hike to peak of Mount Kristinartindar, arguably our finest. (So who’s arguing?)

Back-pack reaches peak in harsh fog after 3,700 feet ascent, carrier darts from fear. Signed the 'visitors'
book and headed down as fast as possible.




'One should take a position,' people say, even if it's on the butt at Skaftafellsjokull.




One of tens of pictures taken as we climb alongside the glacier tongue.


This country continues to fascinate two happy campers, literally. It strikes us as a land of
vivid colors, predominantly, blue and white, green and brown and some black. We’ll touch on the glaciers,
rivers, lakes and mountains as we proceed around the country. There are tremendous bodies of water covering
the island which is probably why it has to rain so much. We are on the Ring Road, Highway 1, which as the
name implies, takes one around Iceland by car. We decided to go the whole way, in a manner of expression,
and now find ourselves somewhere on the eastern side after commencing in the southwestern corner. Knowing
our sense of direction, one should be a little circumspect in taking our travel explanations too seriously.




Prominent peak at mid-right rear is the destination. When we first saw it, we thought we should quit and get back to the car
in case we had parked in an illegal spot.




Scene across the glacier and trail we follow.



The Icelanders have to be a tough people. As beautiful as the land is, combined with a hostile climate,
it makes for a harsh environment. We would expect the locals to be a hardier nation than their fellow westerners.
Talking of people, over the years we have found some nationalities much friendlier than others. We believe it is
common courtesy to return a greeting when it’s offered or to mutter a thank you when standing aside to allow
someone to pass. However, we regret that the Europeans in particular, excluding the Dutch and Italians, are
rather aloof. Americans, Africans, South Americans and Australasians are far friendlier. This has proved to be
consistent over the years. We have our theories but they are for another time.



Taking a peek through the gap to the peak.



A bird with attitude. Not intimidated by us at all. Sign of the times?



Glacial river from part-way up.


The hike alongside two glaciers, Skaftafellsjokull and Svinafellsjokull, to reach the peak of
Kristinartindar was one of the best experiences we have had. It began at the campgrounds in
Skaftafell National Park, a great advantage, and climbed steadily for more than four miles. Thereafter,
in three sections, it went from steep to very steep to ridiculous. As we traversed the mountain to the
fore, the sight awaiting us was breathtaking but scary. Having reached the top of that climb, the final
leg scared the pants off us. In fact, for the first time in ten days, we wore shorts. After a cold and
cloudy start to the day, the sun made a dashing appearance and it looked, to inexperienced visitors, that
summer had arrived finally. Suffice to say, the last three hours of the hike took place in conditions of
heavy cloud followed by thick fog and then rain. At one stage, it appeared that we were in near white-out
conditions.


Glacier is not as pristine as it looks from far—in fact, quite dirty.



Wherever we looked, incredible scenes caught the eye.


During the early part of the hike, the weather was near perfect. However, before we commenced the
final ascent, the mist had gathered over the peak and the darkening fog made us consider whether we should
continue. We opted for a fast, final climb and a quick sign of the visitors’ book and return as fast as
the dangerous rock scramble would allow. There was only a single, but critical beacon to guide us on the
latter part of the climb and it became essential, especially with poor visibility, not to miss it. It's
very easy to figure how one can get lost on the mountains in poor weather—a frightening thought.



Getting higher, becoming mesmerized and a little weary.




Shortly before reaching the peak, the view of the other side minutes before a heavy fog.



We walked, climbed and scrambled for 12.5 miles, gaining nearly 3,700 feet, in a six-hour period
on the trail. The sights of the glaciers, both from below and above, the mountains, waterfalls, glacial
flows and other flora and birds kept us entranced. We commenced late following a journey from our previous
camp and felt a little weary by the time we reached the trailhead. However, once we got over the first hump,
we never looked back. Unfortunately, it continued to rain for the next twenty-four hours, making it a
little uncomfortable in the campgrounds. Nevertheless, the feeling from the day’s outing put things into
proper perspective. When we combine the energy expended, the physical challenge, the risks faced and the
beauty witnessed, we know it will amount to an experience never to be forgotten.



The editor makes her way over rough terrain as she climbs steadily before the real action commences.


Cheers,

Jenni and Jeffrey

18.03 A stroll to Gulfoss and a more ambitious walk on the glacier, Langjokull

Cascading waters of Gulfoss, somewhere south of the capital.




Play Misty for me



Should you have listened to the odd comment we make from time to time…okay, we concede, not only odd but
frequent, you would have heard us say that we like to sweat to earn the sights we see. Today was not one
of those days. The Gulfoss waterfall, cascading in a couple of directions, powerful as all heck, fed from
glaciers up the hill, proved to be a breathtaking sight to behold. Judging by the number of tourists
visiting the area, it's not surprising to read that tourism is the premier source of exports for this
thinly populated country.



A view of Lankjokull (glacier), an enormous amount of ice and snow.



Awful amount of action at Gulfoss.




Jenni takes a glacier hop on Langjokull.


Later, we moved on taking a mountain road which had the effect of scaring off most of the tourists, the
road, that is. At the end of it, a mountaintop including the glacier Langjokull, provided an overwhelming
effect. As we froze gazing over miles and miles of snow and ice covered mountains, we could not help but
think of the politics of global warming continuing in the warm ivory towers elsewhere. We’ll move onto
steamier issues, which is appropriate with the emissions spewing from the earth in this part of the world.
Our editor mentioned today that the Icelanders love to swim. Why? We have no idea. Should we end up swimming
in this country in the middle of summer, we wouldn’t take a dip without first putting on a sweater and wooly
trousers. That’s us; this story is about the locals. She then added the custom is to swim without any clothing
in public pools. Apparently, it is inhibiting to be in a swimsuit in the water. Reminds us of Black's Beach in
San Diego, not our favorite spot.


The gang practising setting up a tent in the kids' playroom. Ellie is upset as she wanted
a pink one. Big Ben offered his two bits and said he was too busy to assist. Tough crowd.



There's work to be done but editor finds time to fool around with camera.



Back to the cascading falls.


After pitching our tent this afternoon, we decided to head for a shower because the multitudes might
storm the bathrooms. We may exaggerate a little every now and again. However, what should we expect in
the showers? We too like to shower without clothes. Therefore, if we shower in the nude in private, the
locals swim in the nude in public, what could we expect from them in the shower? We shudder to postulate.
Would the showers be unisex? We did not know. Being inquisitive, we decided to wait under the warm water
to see what would transpire. The tension began to build. What happened? Our editor put paid to our natural
inquiring mind about local customs in general in Iceland and in the shower, in particular. Unfortunately,
this local custom will remain unknown to both you and we. Any complaints should be directed firmly at the
editor’s shower door.



Beautiful but rough, tough and dangerous.



White river rafting for the Big Boys.


Our editor has become a little aggressive of late. You may have noticed that the previous blog was long on
pictures and short on words. We suppose many prefer it that way but we understand that Mom doesn’t mind
reading a few sentences, so we oblige. Anyway, we wrote a piece on the airline industry and its passengers.
If we might add, it was nothing short of brilliant. Unfortunately, our editor did not share that opinion.
In fact, she said a few people might be offended. That’s when we thought it may be a very fine piece indeed.
The boss put the red pen through the work of literature and hence, a short blog. We suppose that’s a clean
sweep for the editor today—she’s on a roll, unfortunately.


Cheers,


Jenni and Jeffrey




Golf bunkers on the top of the mountain.



'Avalanche' of water. Jen, raincoats?

18.02 This is Iceland as we walk and scramble up the mountain behind Lake Pingvallavatn.

A picture to set the scene above Lake Pingvallavatn.



Jenni coming down the mountain; geothermal activity strong in the area.




Sun makes a guest appearance; locals wonder what it is.



It sure takes getting used to—the weather, excessive light, constant winds and high prices. Don’t even
get us started on name and word pronunciations—we’ve given up on them. In the early hours of the morning, it
feels eerie. Firstly, light abounds although the sun has disappeared. The wind calms somewhat at that time
but the swaying of the trees and the rustling of the bushes makes us feel slightly uneasy. Fortunately, we
get over it quickly and return to bed and sleep.




A scene with much activity—the local power plant positioned over geothermal site.



Jenni absorbs the wondrous sight as the sun shines again.


Our landlady, who was with child when we arrived, is now with child in her arms rather than womb. Another good reason to drink a Diet Coke to wet the baby’s head rather than bed. We’re most grateful that she made it to the nursing home rather than ask us to assist. We’ve forgotten how to handle children and anyway, we much prefer dealing with grandchildren.



Commencing the scramble over rocks but also spongy ground cover.



Guest appearance as we return from a summit; try keep it to a single showing, if you please.
Notice the steaming activity on the barren hill behind.




Blue water, mountain, snow capped peaks, solid snow summit, low clouds and wild sky. Who's complaining?




If you're looking for a hot sulphur bath, block the nose and dive in...um maybe take a walk down.


When we woke to find a clearing in the clouds, we were excited. We collected our car and headed
on Highway 1N, in search of the Nesjavellir hike, always a bit of a challenge for us. Nevertheless,
we made it without incident to the trailhead but struggled at one stage to regain the trail. The distance
amounted to eight miles with a cumulative gain of about 2,400 feet. We covered interesting terrain including
hummocky moorland with rough and rocky fell side in between. What’s an extra couple of miles on a Sunday afternoon?



Editor feels the blues.




Something I said and the editor steams off.




Love the sun shining in the foreground; actually, take any sunshine we can get.


Cheers,

Jenni and Jeffrey