SNAEFELLSNES & WESTFJORDS

MY CHARIOT

TECHNICOLOR CROSSING AT BORGARNES

THE SHAEFELLJOKULL VOLCANO

DERELICT SKI LIFT

MEMORIAL TO GUDRIDUR THORBJARNARDOTTIR

BASALT COLUMNS ON COAST

STEEP CLIFFS AND HIGH PLATEAUS ON WAY TO LATRABJARG

PUFFIN AT LATRABJARG CLIFFS

The car had left-hand drive, and I hadn't driven one of those for a good while, so I practiced on the back roads near the hostel before venturing onto the main roads. The maximum speed limit on tarmac roads in Iceland is 90kph (56mph), which quite suited me.

From Reykjavik I initially drove north along Route 1, reaching the 3.6 mile long Hvalfjordur tunnel which costs 1,000 ISK (about £5) to pass through. The traffic was busy at first, but gradually thinned out as I got further away from the city. I randomly stopped at places that I thought might be of interest such as Akranes and Borgarnes. At the latter I came across a technicolour zebra crossing - so much more cheerful than boring monochrome ones seen elsewhere. I think that Icelanders love colour to lift their spirits in the long grey winters.

Leaving Route 1 at Borganes, my target for the day was to get somewhere near the end of the Snaefellsnes peninsula. By now my journey had become a pleasant evening drive on largely empty roads. I ended up at Arnarstapi, managing to find a quiet spot for the night up a gravel side track. I folded the rear seats down, but sleeping in the back of the car wasn't that comfortable because it wasn't flat. Still, I managed.

In the morning I could begin to appreciate the landscape much more as the sun rose higher in the sky. I had parked just south of the Snaefelljokull volcano and resolved to take a morning walk up to the edge of the glacier that dominates the view of the peninsula from all directions.

French novelist Jules Verne made Snaefellsjokull world famous in his novel 'Journey to the Centre of the Earth' as it was by going down a crater on Snaefellsjokull that his three adventurers reached the centre of the earth before eventually being carried out to Stromboli, Italy, in an eruption.

After about 2 hours of walking I reached the ruins of an old ski lift - perhaps a casualty of global warming - and could see over to the north side of the peninsula.

Returning to the car, my next stop was Hellnar, where they had an informative visitor centre with old photographs showing what life was like for the fishing communities on the peninsula. I also made a short stop at a sculpture commemorating Gudridur Thorbjarnardottir, the first woman to give birth to a white baby in North America.

I enjoyed my picnic lunch at Londranger (no, not Lone Ranger), where basalt columns and magnificent rock columns were visible from the cliffs and then, continuing my drive around the head of the peninsula, stopped briefly to climb the 109m, 3-4,000 year old Saxholl crater which is close to the road.

Time was moving on. I picked up some food at Stykkisholmur after which the road surface changed from tarmac to gravel as I left the peninsula. That slowed me down a bit until I reached Route 60 and turned north, heading for the Westfjords.

I passed by a filling station at Budardalur; ten minutes later it occured to me that this might be the last opportunity to fill up for a while, so I turned back. It was a good call because I didn't come across any more filling stations that evening.

Having crossed the Gilsjordur bridge I was now in the Westfjords, but since the sun would be directly in my eyes for the rest of the evening, I decided to stop near Bjarkalunder for the night and continue in the morning with the sun behind me.

At 8.00am I was on my way again. Yesterday's scenery had comprised lavafields around Snaefellsjokull which, as I continued to the Westfjords, became farmland - where it wasn't too mountainous, that is. Now the scenery reminded me of Scotland, with twisty roads weaving between steep mountains. Then there were the fjords, of course, many of them so long that it was hard to tell if they were connected to the sea or not.

The road was narrow and, at times, precipitous, and the surface ranged from tarmac to gravel. It certainly demanded concentration. I stopped for coffee at an hotel at Floklunder, then left Route 60 for Route 62, which enabled me to stay close to the coast and remain on tarmac a little longer. However, I was aiming for Latrabjarg, the westernmost point of Iceland and the place where puffins and other birds can be seen in great numbers. This can only be reached by enduring 30 miles of gravel road. I just hoped that I didn't get a puncture.

I noted that the mountain terrain had changed again. Now it was high plateaus edged with steep cliffs which fell sharply down to the sea. The coast roads got even more exciting since there was no barrier to stop cars driving right off the edge. I kept both hands firmly on the wheel at all times, especially when vehicles coming from the other direction passed me.

Along the way, at Hnjotor, I was surprised to see a dismantled US Navy Douglas C117 aircraft alongside the road. This type was apparently used to assist with emergency evacuation of Vestmannaeyjar (Westman Islands) during the volcanic eruptions in 1973. This particular aircraft was presumably bought by an Icelander when it was retired from service in 1977 and has ended up in this 'scrap' museum.

I parked the car at Brunnar, an old fishing station which went into disuse about 1880, and walked the remaining mile or so to Latrabjarg. Just as the Visitors' Guides had promised, the nearby cliffs were covered in birds, but it was the puffins I had come to see. I hadn't realised that they lived in holes in the cliff, effectively making them cave dwellers. They were incredibly tame and, by laying down with a camera close to the cliff edge, they would come almost right up to me.

Satisfied that I'd had my puffin 'fix', I ate my picnic lunch, walked back to the car and prepared for another 30 miles of gravel road to get back to Route 62, then another 25 miles of tarmac road to reach Bildudalur where I had booked a hostel. Still, it was sunny and warm, and I was in no hurry.

I arrived at Bildudalur around 6.00pm, found the hostel, and checked into my dorm for six (which I understood would be full tonight). It was a really nice place, spotlessly clean, right on the harbourside and surrounded by mountains.

And I heard that the cafe around the corner served beer........

RETURN TO REYKJAVIK

DESOLATE LAVAFIELD FROM THE BUS

A WELCOME BEER AT THE BUS HOSTEL

REYKJAVIK CITY CENTRE

MOI ON AN ICELANDIC HORSE

THE HARPA CENTRE

AMAZING VIEW INSIDE THE HARPA CENTRE

'HOW TO BECOME ICELANDIC IN 60 MINUTES'

NAUTHOLSVIK THERMAL BEACH

I was a little sad to leave beautiful Landmannalaugar, but being able to get back to Reykjavik a little earlier than expected would enable me to have a better look at the city.

The bus journey back was a treat in itself, though. The roads were little more than dirt tracks, and we had to drive through several fjords, which is something buses don't have to do in England. The Icelandic buses have large wheels and a high chassis, so are obviously made for this. That didn't stop them clattering noisily nor vibrating so much that it was impossible to rest my elbow on the window sill without it being thrown off.

The scenery that we passed was almost alien - huge flood plains followed by huge lava fields. The latter great grey expanses of solidified lava and ash were surreal - almost lunar. The newer lava fields were quite barren, whereas the older fields showed signs of life, with moss, grass and the occasional flower starting to colonise the wasteland. It was like watching creation in the making. Then it started to rain heavily; yet another ingredient of life. It seemed that the timing of my departure from Landmannalaugar had been perfect, although mountain weather is so localised that it might not actually be raining there.

Finally arriving back in Reykjavik, I quick-stepped my way to the Bus Hostel to be told that they could provide me with a bed for the two additional nights. Whoopee. After spending four nights on a half inch thick foam sleeping pad I really appreciated the comfort of a soft mattress.

A beer in the evening rounded the day off nicely.

Thursday morning involved doing the laundry and making some decisions about what to do with my extra city time. I then headed downtown to make some bookings for the following day (you will have to be  patient to find out what these are). I then visited Volcano House, which was very informative about the rocks and ash I had come across on my walk, and also the Saga Museum about the colonisation of Iceland by the Celts and the Vikings from the 9th century onwards.

Walking back along the main street, which incidentally is called Laugavegur, the same name as the trail, I was once again impressed by how a city with so many of its buildings clad with corrogated steel sheets could look so attractive. I think that the bright colours used to paint them has a lot to do with it. Finally, on my way back to the hostel, a visit to the Bonus supermarket was required to replenish my food supplies. It had been an easy-going day.

I was up early Friday, and ready when the man from Eldhestar stables came to pick me up. Along with a few others, I was driven to a large horse farm in Vellir, just east of Selfoss. We were each supplied with a riding helmet and matched with an Icelandic Horse which matched our previous experience with horses. The Icelandic horse is the only breed to be found in Iceland and it is renowned for its hardiness, its docile manner and its comfortable gait.

We were led as a group on paths surrounding the farm and then up into the overlooking hills. Though there was no galloping across the plains or anything like that, it was a pleasant way to spend a sunny morning.

Back in Reykjavik I made some preparations for the ensuing week by visiting one of the local Hostelling International hostels to see if they could pre-book some accommodation for me as I drove around the Westfjords and the north of Iceland. A car would be brought to the Bus Hostel for me tomorrow afternoon.

I was partially successful, but might end up sleeping in the car or my tent on some nights. Anyway, I'm as ready to go as I can be.

For the evening I had booked to see a comedy show at the amazing Harpa-Reykjavik Concert Hall and Conference Centre. The show was entitled 'How to become Icelandic in 60 Minutes'. It was obviously aimed at tourists, but nevertheless amusing enough to keep me occupied for an hour.

However, the real star of the show was the Harpa Centre itself. What an amazing structure, with internal walls looking like blocks of volcanic rock and the outside clad in glass polyhedrons inspired by the crystallised basalt columns commonly found in Iceland.

The comedian joked that this, the most expensive building in Iceland, was being constructed at the time of the country's financial melt-down. He promised that Iceland would pay the rest of Europe back -sometime.

On Saturday morning I took advantage of the sunshine to clean and dry my tent properly. Then I took a walk to Nautholsvik Thermal Beach to the south of Reykjavik. The sea around Iceland is generally too cold for bathing but this artificial cove is heated by natural hot water. The yellow sand was imported from Morocco. If I'd had more time I would have taken a dip, but there will be other opportunities.

Back at the hostel, the hire car was delivered by Jenny from Blue Car Rentals at 3pm, precisely, as agreed. Time for the next part of my Icelandic adventure!

LANDMANNALAUGAR

SNOW BRIDGE OVER BRASHAGAKVISI RIVER

FUMEROLES AND RHYOLITE MOUNTAINS

DEEP SNOW IN PLACES

CLASSIC PICTURE OF RHYOLITE MOUNTAINS

FRACTURED SNOWFIELD NEAR HRAFNTINNUSKER HUT

RESTING NEAR BLAHNUKUR MOUNTAIN

DIMITRI NEAR THE HOT POOL

CANADIANS JERRY, BOBBIE AND LEAH AT LANDMANNALAUGAR

I left Alftavatn at around 8.00am.

The part of the Laugavegur Trail I am walking today is usually regarded as two sections, each of about 7.5 miles, with an overnight stop at the Hrafntinnusker hut at 1,100m. However it would undoubtedly be a cold night at this altitude. It seemed to me that doing both sections in one day should still involve less effort in terms of both distance and climbing than the Fimmvorduhals Trail that I completed on the first day of this trek.

Besides, I am running out of food and there isn't any available until I get to Landmannalaugar.

After about an hour of walking I reached the Brashagakvisl river where I had expected to have to remove my boots to cross. However, there was snow bridging most of it so I carefully used this to get to the other side. I could hear the river below my feet as I trod, and there were holes in the snow where it was getting thin. I didn't get too close to them.

Almost immediately the path started to incline steeply upwards. I turned round to get a last glimpse of Alftavatn lake before it disappeared from view in the haze. The climb was relentless and every time I thought I had reached the top, another higher hill appeared beyond. Eventually I reached a bit of a plateau and the pungent odour of sulphur hit my nostrils. I had reached an area I had previously seen only in photographs, with several fumeroles spitting and steaming nearby and yellow/orange/red rhyolite mountains beyond. It was an incredible sight and it took time to take it all in.

As I climbed higher the random patches of snow turned into huge snowfields which took me an hour to cross. I could see the Hrafntinnusker hut ahead of me, but it seemed to take an age to reach it. The sun had come out, so when I did get there I stopped to eat the last of my food and put on sunscreen. There were tent pitches around the hut - flat bottomed hollows dug into the snow - but no tents. Where snow wasn't present, the ground was littered with obsidian glistening in the sunshine.

The Hrafntinnusker hut is at the highest point of the day's walk, so the next snowfield was on an easy downward slope. I went past several more fumeroles and the scenery continued to take my breath away as different rock formations and colours came into view.

Soon I reached Brennisteinsalda, a mountain that overlooks Landmannalaugar, and couldn't resist climbing it to enjoy the huge panorama. The last mile of the walk involved a rapid descent, then a clamber through the sprawling lavafields of Laugahraun until I reached the Landmannalaugar hut.

The large area around the hut was filled with tents, but not so much that I couldn't squeeze mine in too. This is a popular area for daywalkers as well as long distance hikers on the Laugavegur Trail.

I bumped into Steve and Clare again, and they boiled me some water so I could have a cup of tea (I always bring a cup and a few teabags when backpacking - just in case). They would be going back to Reykjavik today, whereas I chose to stay another night. We said our goodbyes and I pitched my tent. Almost immediately the rain started.

I remembered that one reason for finishing the trail at Landmannalaugar was because of the natural hot pool. Deciding that this would be the ideal place to be in the rain, I donned my swimming trunks and took a dip. Another chap I had seen on the trail, Dimitri, was already there and we congratulated each other on successfully completing it.

It was still raining when I got out, and getting cold too, so I had a hot soup at the Mountain Mall mobile food shop before retiring to my tent for the night.

Next morning the rain had desisted but the tent was still wet, so I left it up to dry out while I took a stroll up the 945m high Blahnukur mountain, the closest significant hill to the campsite. It was a steep climb really, but it seemed so much easier without the heavy rucksack. The mountain also seemed to be made of green sand!!! - but the views from the top were spectacular, of course. The photographs describe things so much better than I can.

The bus back to Reykjavik was due to leave at 1.30pm, but my rucksack and tent were packed a good hour before that. I spent my remaining time in Landmannalaugar enjoying mushroom soup at the Mountain Mall whilst swopping travel stories with Jerry, Bobbie and Leah from Alberta, Canada.

I had completed my walking adventure in four days instead of the six I had allowed. This was due to me unexpectedly being able to start from Skogar on the same day I arrived (I hadn't realised that there would be such an early bus), plus completing the last two sections in one day. Finally, there had been no episodes of seriously bad weather that might have prevented me walking for a day (or more).

I said my farewells to my newly-made Canadian friends and stepped onto the bus, wondering if the Bus Hostel might be able to accommodate me for an additional two nights. With no communications on the trail, I had been unable to contact them.

EMSTRUR AND ALFTAVATN

LEAVING HUSADALUR FOR LANDMANNALAUGER

CROSSING THE THRONGA RIVER

CHAINS DOWN TO BRIDGE OVER EMSTRUR RIVER

CAMPING AT EMSTRUR REFUGE

ASH-COVERED PLAIN

FOOTPRINTS IN THE ASH - MOSTLY GOING THE OTHER WAY

WADING THE BLAFJALLAKVISI RIVER

ALFTAVATN REFUGE

Wake up, put boots on, breakfast, clean teeth, write blog, dismantle tent, pack rucksack, fill water bottles and start walking! This is pretty well my morning routine.

Sunday's weather looks OK! My feet had recovered from the previous day's bashing so I was looking forward to today's walk along the Laugavegur Trail to Emstrur.

Saying farewell to Volcano Huts I headed north-east away from Thorsmork. After an hour I reached the Thronga river which would be the first of several I would have to wade across. There were people at the crossing point in the process of doing the same, but in the other direction. I removed my boots and socks, put on some plastic sandles I'd brought with me, and proceeded to cross. The glacial water was cold and it actually hurt as it went half way up to my calves. Safely on the other side, I dried my feet, put my boots back on and kept walking.

For some considerable time after that I found myself walking along a flat-ish plain covered in volcanic rock which had the appearance of aero, and fine sand. It was like walking on a black beach, and quite tiring. On my left, the Markarfljot river ran in a deep gorge parallel to the trail.

Eventually the route deviated and I crossed a bridged gorge with the fast-running Emstrur river below. Getting access to the bridge was interesting though, with chains to help me get down to it and ropes to pull me back up on the other side.

Next was a short, steep hill, but from the top I could see the Emstrur refuge. It started to rain lightly, so I walked quickly to the refuge and decided to pitch my tent there. The only facilities for campers were toilets and the supply of water. There was certainly no food, electicity or radio contact. It wasn't even 6.00pm when I arrived but I decided to get to sleep early and make an early start next morning.

It rained during the evening and overnight, and as there wasn't much else to do so I did some blog writing before going to sleep. In all, I spent over 12 hours tentbound.

In the morning I packed my still-wet tent and headed north along a sandy desert-like path lined with emerald green hills. After about an hour I came to an unbridged stream just east of the Hattafell mountain, but was able to cross by hopping from rock to rock.

A further two hours of desert walking followed until I reached the roaring Innri-Emstrura river which, fortunately, was bridged. It was another hour before I reached the Blafjallakvisl river where I did finally have to remove my shoes and socks. 

Half an hour later I came to the Havanngil  refuge hut. The warden kindly boiled some water for me so I could eat a packet of noodles whilst chatting to a Dutch couple who were also taking a break there.

The last hour of the day's walk involved yet another shoes-off river crossing, this time of the Bratthaskvisl river, before finally arriving at the Alftavatn hut where I would camp for the night.

The hut is named after the Alftavatn lake which it sits beside. The warden told me that the view from the hut across the lake to the snow-covered mountains beyond was one of the most beautiful she knew. I wouldn't have argued with her. It reminded me of the view over Lake Louise in Alberta, Canada.

I wasn't even 3 o'clock yet so, after pitching my tent, I decided to take a walk around the lake. The warden told me this would take an hour, and the sun had just come out so I didn't take anything with me other than my jacket. Oh, how I wished I had taken my waterproof overtrousers, because half way around the sun disappeared and it started to to rain!

The rain was persistent, so I whiled away the rest of the afternoon and evening in my tent blog writing and looking at the map in preparation for the following day. I have been progressing well, so if the weather holds out it should only take one further day to get to Landmannalaugar at the northern end of the trail.

FIMMVORDUHALS TRAIL

SKOGARFOSS

CLARE AND STEVE ENJOYING THE VIEW OVER LUNCH

COLD AND MISTY AHEAD

SNOWFIELDS IN THE MIST - A NAVIGATIONAL CHALLENGE

SAFETY CHAINS TO GRAB HOLD OF ON THE STEEP BITS

THORSMORK BELOW

PORTABLE BRIDGE OVER KROSSA RIVER

CAMPING AT HUSADALUR

I was up early Saturday. After packing my rucksack and handing over my excess stuff to the hostel staff for safekeeping whilst hiking, I headed for the Bus Terminal.

The coach was comfortable and the driver gave a commentary about what we could see out of the windows while we journeyed. We saw huge lava fields, geothermal power stations, large numbers of Icelandic horses and, all the time, the snow-patched mountains ahead got closer. The coach stopped for 15 minutes at the Selandsfoss waterfall, just west of the now imposing Eyjafjallajokull volcano, so that we could get out for a photoshoot. The journey time to Skogar itself was 3hrs 20mins, and it rained for some of that, but it was dry when the magnificent Skogafoss waterfall came into view.

Leaving the coach I immediately went to the Skogafoss Hostel to get a weather update. It said cloudy but dry, with low winds, so I resolved to start walking the Fimmvorduhals Trail as soon as I'd inspected the Skogafoss waterfall close-to and had a cup of coffee.

Whilst sightseeing I bumped into Steve and Clare, a couple who would be hiking the same route and were also planning to leave imminently. I would bump into them several times during the day.

Powered by the four coffees I drank at the Hostel (free refills) I started walking north shortly after midday. As I climbed alongside the Skoga river I was greeted by waterfall after waterfall. This went on for about 2 hours until I reached the first patches of snow. Shortly after that, visibility diminished as I climbed into low clouds. For the next 3 hours I found myself crunching through large snowfields in a near white-out. There were marker poles placed on the path at intervals to show the route, but these were sometimes covered by snow. I followed footprints made by others and used my compass to ensure that they were heading in the right direction (although I could see from the orientation of the prints that most folk were walking in the other direction).

I located a safety hut at an altitude of 900m  and chose not to visit the Fimmvordulals refuge which would have required a short deviation to the west. Shortly after, I reached the peak of the pass between the Eyjafjallajokull and Myrdalsjokull glaciers at 1,116m, although there wasn't much to see in the fog. Then I came upon Magni and Modi, the two new side craters on Eyjafjallajokull that were created at the start of the 2010 eruption. It was obvious that the rock all around them was newly formed.

The terrain then tilted steeply downwards and I had to take care to avoid sledging my way down on my back. All of a sudden I was below the clouds and the view opened up. The almost continuous snow broke up into patches and I could see mountains to the north, but in my immediate vicinity were green hills twisted into the most amazingly contorted formations. I wondered if all volcanically-formed hills started this way but gradually got rounded off through erosion

The path was clear now, but some parts of it so steep that chains and ropes had been attached alongside for safety. At last I arrived in Thorsmork (Thor's forest) and reached the refuge hut at Basar. I chose not to stay here though, and instead continued north-west over the flood palin, crossing the Krossa river on a couple of portable bridges. The bridges were on wheels so I guess they get moved around to wherever the best crossing points are.

I continued past the Langidalur refuge on the north side of the river and final arrived at Volcano Huts at Husadalur. I had decided to come here because I knew WiFi was available to enable me to send this blog. It had been a long walk - 30km (nearly 19 miles) over difficult terrain - but I had managed it in 8 hours.

I pitched my tent and ate the hot food at the hut, deciding to save the minimal food I carried in my rucksack for another day. Exhausted by the day's effort I slept well. I had completed the Fimmvorduhals Trail in a single day, and in the morning I would continue my northward journey on the Laugavegur Trail.

REYKJAVIK

HALLGRIMSKIRKJA CHURCH

SUN VOYAGER

NOT ALL ICELANDERS LOOK LIKE THIS

3D MODEL OF WHERE I WILL BE WALKING IN CITY HALL

THE PERLAN

'DANCE' SCULPTURE BY TORBJORG PALSDOTTIR OUTSIDE PERLAN

I was up early. After my included breakfast of toast and strawberry jam, I headed on foot into Reykjavik city centre to explore.

The weather was cool but dry. The first thing I noted was how quiet and uncrowded the city was. It was easy to cross even the most major roads because although car ownership per head of population is apparently high, the population of Reykjavik is only about 200,000, so cars are relatively few. In capital city terms, it is a small village, which just about sums up how it feels; friendly and unthreatening.

My first port of call was the BSI Bus Terminal from where I would catch the bus for the Laugavegur and Fimmvordhals trails. I hadn't at this point decided upon which direction to hike the trails, but it turned out that there were buses which would take me to either end leaving at 8.00am the following morning.

Continuing into the city centre I had to visit the iconic Hallgrimskirkja church, designed to resemble the basalt columns of Iceland's landscape. I was fortunate enought to be treated to a recital from it's magnificent 5275-pipe church organ, frequently played by famous international musicians.

I also enjoyed visits to the Sun Voyager sculture, Reykjavik City Hall (where they have a huge 3D model of Iceland enabling me to photograph the topography of the trail I would be following) and the Old Harbour. It seemed odd that so many of the tourist stalls on the harbourside were offering whale-watching sea-trips in a country that still kills them.

The streets of Reykjavik are festooned with sculptural works of art. My Dad, who was a sculptor himself, would have appreciated the many pieces on display wherever you walked.

I visited several information offices and outdoor shops to discuss my walking plans for the following day and gather advice. Apparently it has been colder than usual this year so there is snow at the northern end of the trail. As usual, the advice I received was mixed, but I took an average and decided that the best strategy would be to walk from South to North. Although that basically means walking uphill, this gives me time to gain experience in the environment as I go. Besides, I get the sun behind me, improving the view, and the opportunity to bathe in the hot spring at the northern end as a reward. Let's hope that rivers and snow don't thwart my plans.

After visiting a supermarket to buy suitable food for the trek (pitta breads, peanut butter, cheese, salami, fruit, chocolate) I returned to my hostel to off-load it before heading out again, this time the Perlan, a striking building constructed on a hill to the south of Reykjavik. Basically, it is six hot water storage cylinders with a glass dome on top, but it has a 360 degree viewing platform giving magnificent views of the surrounding landscape.

Returning to the hostel I enjoyed a 'happy hour' beer (well, two really), wrote my blog notes, cooked supper and headed to bed. It would be an early start in the morning. I wondered how this adventure would turn out.

HAPPY LANDINGS

GATWICK AIRPORT - DEPARTURE IMMINENT

BSI BUS TERMINAL IN REYJAVIK

THE BUS HOSTEL - NICE PLACE

My rail journey to Gatwick Airport was uneventful although the plane took off an hour late for the 3 hour flight because of a baggage mix-up. It was about 7.20pm local time when we landed at Iceland's Kevlavik Airport.

On the approach to the runway the ground appeared to be parched brown, cratered and cracked - almost lunar - with isolated hills, like nasty boils, poking through it. Once on the runway the immediate surroundings were green with heather, and quite flat. This is obviously why they built the airport here because I could see high mountains to the east.

The sun was low but very bright and warm, a pleasant surprise in the evening. After collecting my luggage I exited the airport and boarded the Flybus which would take me to my accommodation, located close to the Bus Terminal in Reykjavik and named 'Bus Hostel. Not very creative, but I guess it would be hard for jet-lagged visitors to end up going to the wrong place.

I am assigned a bunk in a 4-bed dorm and quickly locate the kitchen so I can cook supper. The hostel is clean and well organised, and seems to be occupied by young people from all over the world. Just after I had finished eating someone offered me a share of their own food as they had made too much. Too late, of course, and a pity since their food looked better than mine!

After a long and exhausting day it was back to the dorm where I slept peacefully in my sleeping bag (you have to pay extra if you want sheets and a duvet). There were blackout curtains on the windows to block out the perpetual daylight present at this time of year.