Iceland’s inland is most definitely off the beaten path. Four wheel drive (or one, if it’s a motorcycle) is a must. Some seasons it’s not accessible at all due to weather, but this year, the sun smiled upon us, and we went up towards the highlands.

Mount Mammary

Before the actual Highlands, we had a scenic stop at Dettifoss, and its upstream sister Selfoss. As one of the few places where such activity was allowed, the drone pilots of the gang quickly released their artificial flying pets. I had not yet reached WFW (WaterFall Wariness), but the rock formations by the falls were worth the hike in their own rights.

Bumpy roads, truck going in 20 km/h, no reception, bush wees…. this was overlanding proper, alright.
If the Hverir geothermal area looked like some exoplanet, the highlands of Iceland look, in places, like the surface of the moon, or possibly Mercury. Sandy, black desert, generously sprinkled with volcanic rocks and magmatic outcrops.

The moonscape gave way for a more tundra-like landscape as we went further into the Central Highlands, to set camp in the shadows of the majestic Heroubrei, Iceland’s ‘Queen of the Mountains’. Shaped the way it is, one might give it nicknames such as Melon Mountain, Hooters Hill, or Knockers Knoll. Me, I kind of think it looks more like a circus tent or a Pythonesque blancmange.

Jökull

It’s not really overlanding without some kind of truck mishap, be it engine malfunction, being bogged down, facing too weak bridges or being stuck in traffic due to workers strike.

In the morning upon the Central Highlands, the former happened. A couple of hours (whilst borrowing our fly nets) and a number of phone calls to other overlanding truck drivers was enough for our crew to identify and fix the problem.
Tallulah once more roaring, we took off for Askja caldera, a sulphur-blue lake born out of a cataclysmic volcanic eruption in 1875.

Viti would be the hotter of the lakes, being all geothermal and krater placed. Usually, it’s free to go for a swim there*, but due to the increased tectonic activity, it’s now a big nono. With or without the bath, it’s still a gorgeous hike.
The weather gods kept on being gracious, but the climate ditto are not. In Kverkfjoll there’s an ice cave, carved by an under glacier river, but due to higher temperatures, it is now too unstable för entry. Still, we got to get our first close encounter with the mighty Váttnajökull.
Waking up to an amazing view, our time in the inland was coming to an end.

There was still a long drive through the moonish moors, bumping along, but by lunchtime we had reached the small village of Möðrudalur. Full of those half buried hobbit houses and, for some reason, one of those fenceless gates that show up on teh interwebz.

Located right at the border of the Central Highlands, Möðrudalur is a great place to get a feel of the Icelandic outback for those days when weather hinders further exploration inwards, as it did for the Madventurers last year.
For lunch I went a little cray-cray. Instead of the usual lamb soup, I partook in something called Fjallagrasamjölk (roughly Moss Soup). It was literally moss in milk. Too sweet for me, and not very filling.

Leaving the inland, we set course for the cosy coastal fishing village of Seydisfjordur. Though wonderful weather, camping takes its toll, and we splurged on an upgrade to a nearby hostel for a good night’s sleep (in a proper bed, with pillows) and a wash of both ourselves and our clothes. The latter proving detrimental to the former, as not only did someone bogart the dryer, but when we finally got to use it, it turned out to be less than stellar. Over two hours it needed to dry our rather small bunch of clothes, and we didn’t get to bed until after midnight. Which is late, considering the early starts we have.

Caroline’s Corner

We left Husavik with a laughter or two. Our nightly serenaders were not able to sleep in as we did try to be as loud as we could whilst decamping.
A long drive later we stopped at the last cafe/gas station/artstore next to the highlands. Our fearless tourleaders had called ahead to warn the kitchen that 25ish hungry vagabonds would do lunch in ther fine establishment. Unfortunately it was the owners father who replied(ish) to the early phone call. He did not call his child and inform her. He probably took a nap and then yet another nap. Oh well, we all did get our lamb soup and vegetable soup without too much delay.

The Icelandic highlands is a very harsh place. Not much water but when you find water then it is almost to much of it. Looking stretches of stone deserts with large fields of lava flow. High mountains, old volcanoes and so much beauty. But life up here was (and is) hard. Not much can grow here. Driving through the old fields of lava is like swimmng through fields of coral. No straight turns and a lot of surprising road twists. The lava is looking so fresh it is almost scary. I guess they are from the latest euruption cirka 150 years ago. Makes me feel so small and very lacking of power. We are such a puny speck on this mighty planet. This molten rock…
It is hard to travel around. The roads are basically old wheel tracks winding around fields of lava and rivers, ice cold and so strong. You must have a sturdy 4wheel drive and then some good driving skills.
And boy does our driver Edd possess skills in masses. In the Icelandic highlands he got to really show off his skills. I’m a very bad passenger, I do prefer to drive myself as my long-suffering husband can attest to. But this superb driver managed to maneuver the Icelandic off road roads with a few naaws and some more cooos. Very good.

Never assume anything. Always ask one more question. But when you forget to do that you end up doing a 4-ish k walk around one of the lakes below the famous mount nippleberg ( I know it is not called that but when a mountain has the shape of a very perky boob it does get a few nicknames). Herðubreið is it called but we called it the Boob berg, Mount Mamill etc.
Anyhow, we decided to take a little stroll after dinner and look att the old lava fields but we met two of our charming companions and when they recommended a nice path that wasn’t to long we jumped at their suggestion. The problem was that they recommended a short version of the walk. We did not realise that so we did the full tour around the lakes, small waterfalls and swan family residing there. Great walk but very long.

Yes, finally our turn to do cook group. An overlanding tour is a communal way of traveling. You pitch in and do the chores together. Putting up and down the cooking tent, cleaning up and so forth. To make it easier the tour leader assign and organise the chores. We got the pleasure to cook up in the highlands. Not a hard, nor dull assignment, au contraire a very stimulating and fun task. Especially when traveling with such an amicable group of people.

Night at the foot of Vattnajökul. We were so lucky with the weather. Sunshine, no winds and warmish. The highlands could be enjoyed to the fullest. But not sleepvise. We managed to pitch our tent directly on top of two hidden lumps of stone. Yes, oh joy, I had them in my back during the night. Good thing with not sleeping so good is that you do not oversleep .

Vattnajökul is so large and very awe-inspiring, but it is receding with an alarming rate. The largest glacier in Europe is decreasing so fast, the scientists predict that it will have melted away in about 200 years. We did go to the famous ice cave but we did not enter. It has become a very dangerous place to be. Parts of the roof has fallen in and some volcanic gases has found an outlet in the cave. But one can admire it from afar. Which we all did. Very afar.

Leaving the highlands we drove to a small settlement at the outskirts of the lava fields. Here grass grows in plenty and they even built a tiny, tiny church.

Leaving the highlands we drove through a very dense and compact fog. The view was more or less our own mirror images in the windows of the truck. After all the stunning landscapes and views we had been bombarded with from day one, I felt a wee bit grateful because my brain just could not take all that beauty anymore.

Seydisfjorður, another enormously photogenic little town. A small church with the obligatory rainbow road leading up to it.
A night of luxury? No, as the dryer at the hostel just did not work.
We had treated us to a night at a hostel so that we could sleep in beds as well as wash our clothes (I do like a clean pair of underwear). But did we sleep? No. We watched a dryer undry….

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*) don’t forget to bring your cozzies