Day 2: Valahnúkar - Domadulsháls, 27 km
Another fantastic day! A day where I keep taking pictures and stop about every few hundred meters. I didn’t think it would turn out this way this morning. The drizzle hits my tent and as a precaution I put on my rain pants. When I finally fold the tent up luckily it’s dry, but gray and cloudy. It gives the valley a gloomy appearance. Still, I set out cheerfully. I feel privileged to be walking here. From my green oasis I walk back into a lava valley. A whole valley, black. From the ashes underneath my feet to the grim mountains. Still, small flowers grow here too, pressing their heads flat against the ground. I cross one valley after the other, until - I hardly dare say it – it starts to get monotonous. Then there is another steep climb and this time the view is greener. Beautifully  green striped mountains. I descend and cross another lava field. Another climb and on my left I think I recognize the caldera Valagjá described in the guide. The black is saturated with reddish brown, very special. Another descent and now a true panorama of green mountains. Fantastic. Unfortunately the clouds come down a bit and hide the tops. I look out on an Icelandic road and on the other side a green plain. I find two horseshoes on the wooden sign pointing towards Landmannahellir. I cross the plain, taking pictures in the meantime. This is the advantage of being alone. No one is waiting for me and I am not holding anyone up. On my right hand something appears that I initially think to be a lake. When I get closer, I see it’s a river. Two things immediately strike me. It is deep and the water is clear. No glacier water, it won't be that cold. For a moment, the way markers lead along the bank, until  the next one is on the other side. My first river crossing. I knew it was coming. Fun!Crossing a river takes time. Backpack off, socks and shoes off and given the depth of the water also my pants. Digging out sandals and my special waterproof socks. I get out the drybag I bought especially for my camera, because photography is one of the things that makes this trip worthwhile for me. I don't take any risks with my camera. Then put the backpack back on, with the buckles loose just in case. Trekking poles for stability and go. The bottom of the river consists of gravel and it pretty easy walking, apart from the little stones that settle in my sandals. The water flows quickly, but with my poles I keep myself balanced and the other bank quickly comes closer. The water is unexpectedly freezing cold, but it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Relieved, I climb the sandbank on the other side and put my backpack next to a rock. When I sit on the rock to put on my hiking boots, grab empty air. Shoes… They’re still on the other side! So back and forth again. Oh well, the first time you’re allowed to make this beginner's mistake and somehow I find it hilarious. Fortunately there is no wind and once with the pants back on I quickly feel warm again. The waterproof socks, intended for mountain bikers and cyclists who also want to go out in bad weather, have not held up. They are soaking wet both inside and out. But they have kept the worst cold from my feet and that's something.After a short break I continue, not without first taking some pictures, because the clouds lift their skirts and I can admire the green mountains in their full glory. At their feet lies a strange collection of rocks, the Lambafitjarhaun. It is a lava field from the 1913 eruption of the Hekla. Round spheres covered with moss. Very strange. Now the landscape is getting more varied and interesting. A mountain range appears, the combination of snow and green moss is breathtakingly beautiful. I pass some lakes in the depth and can’t stop taking pictures. Then a final descent to Landmannahellir, where I see some people and cars for the first time. It is a good handful of wooden cottages, but most of them are empty at this hour. I tap water in the toilets and make good use of it.After a short break I continue. Immediately there’s a steep climb. On the other side of the hill I descend to a lake, Löðmundarvatn. There are some cars on the shore, but I don't get close to them and walk around the lake counter clockwise. There are flies again too, but fortunately not many. The shore is covered with rocks and I wonder if they are lava bombs. Two beautiful streams meander through the grass to the water. They are deep, but not wide and I cross them with a single step. The path shoots into a valley and I can climb again. Again a lake has nestled beautifully between the mountains, how beautiful it is here. On another mountain, golden plovers sound the alarm, the bird I have encountered most in Iceland so far. Although I already have decent pictures, I can't help but take more. A smooth descent takes me to a road which I cross. On the other side I have a view of a gorge with a stream flowing through it. As soon as I see it, I know that this is the most idyllic camping spot ever. Here I want to be! Just a shame the gorge is visible from the road. I thought Icelandic back roads only saw a few cars a day, but tourists return to Landmannahellir and quite a bit of traffic passes by. Then it becomes quiet and I make myself comfortable next to the babbling brook. Hopefully it will help me sleep, because that’s not easy when daylight lasts 24 hours.

Day 3: Domadulsháls - Landmannalaugar 9 km + Sudurnamur 9 km + Bláhnúkur 7 km
Not just the light, but a violent storm too kept me awake last night. When I wake up in the morning, the wind has died down fortunately. It's beautiful and bright and I can't wait to hit the road. After I have packed my things and put my backpack on, I step towards the brook that appears from under a snow field. Oh. Well, of course I have to cross it, should’ve thought of that. I am already wearing my shoes and don't feel like digging out my sandals. The stream is deep, but I look for a place where I can cross it with minimal wetness. I manage and I start a short climb. Across a hill I follow the brook until I turn left at a gorge. On the mountain side some snow fields where water comes from underneath and rushes to the stream. Golden plovers give their nervous call. Then another climb and this time not a gentle one. Where the Swiss let you zigzag nice and steadily, the Icelanders head  towards their goal in a no-nonsense fashion. Straight up. It’s tough, but step by step I hoist myself a few meters higher, the white posts my always reliable guide. At the top a beautiful view of snowy mountains. It never gets boring. I descend again to a snow field and this time I clearly see a stream flowing under the snow. A snow bridge. I've been worried about this. I have prepared for everything, taken all possible precautions, but I have no control over snow. When I inspect the snow layer, it’s quite thin. Still, I take my chances, I don't want to be led by fear. Besides, it is no more than a meter down should the snow bridge collapses under my weight. And to my surprise, the snow just holds and I cross to the other side in no time. I don't expect any problems at the next snowfields, but I remain careful. I arrive at a lava field again, a narrow, black dike in a sea of ​​white. This feels different from the dry ash from before, more like river clay when the tide has been low for hours. The top of the next hill shimmers in the sunlight. Large chunks of volcanic glass, which form when lava solidifies quickly, are everywhere. Again and again I see a new special stone I would like to take with me, but I leave them all. Then I see it. Mountains that are brown instead of green. The rhyolite mountains for which Landmannalaugar is known. Just a few, not very spectacular, but I'm getting close. These mountains are also volcanic in origin, which is even reflected in the name. Rhyolite is a contraction of the Greek words rheîn and lithos, meaning ‘streams’ and ‘stone’.A little further on I descend to a last snow field and I see red and yellow posts, a sign that Landmannalaugar with its day hikes is not far away anymore. I round a hill and then… I am there. On the edge of the valley that makes Landmannalaugar famous, Vondugil. Golden brown mountains everywhere. It's beautiful and I can't believe my eyes. Not just the colors, but also the shapes make it a extraordinary spectacle. The way the mountains merge, pure art. What a great mosaic. I can't imagine this valley was ever known as a place full of evil spirits. Vondugil is Icelandic for ‘evil valley’. The superstition was so strong that sheep entering this valley were reported lost by the shepherds, until the valley was thoroughly explored in 1852 and nothing mysterious was found. I descend across a narrow ridge. The path is sandy and I try to pay attention to keep my feet from slipping. That’s not easy with so much beauty surrounding you. In front of me the valley over which innumerable streams wind their way into unseen distances stretches out. A waterfall pops up to my right, rumbling down the orange-brown rocks. And everywhere those rhyolite mountains with their unearthly colors. This is not the mountains I am used to. Switzerland, Austria, New Zealand, nothing has prepared me for this. I descend and walk back to the waterfall for a picture. It’s even more impressive up close. Then I turn around and in the distance I see the first hikers from Landmannalaugar. They carefully make their way through the many streams, always looking for the shallowest point. I don't see any markings for a while, but I can guess at the right direction now. One stream is a bit deeper than the other and requires precision, but through the rest I splash carelessly with my high boots. Between the streams is a landscape of gravel and green moss. Then I see steam rising. My first fumarole! I walk up to it and see a small cup of water bubbling frantically. I walk around it with a curve, I don’t have to be convinced it’s boiling. The terrain becomes swampy and there is a path along the other side of the valley. I follow it to a lava field that is different from what I have seen so far. That was ash, these are huge chunks of stone. It even has its own name, Laugahraun, which means lava bath, a reference to the thermal pool in which hikers relax their weary muscles after a long day. Laugahraun is about 350 years old, from an eruption of Torfajökull in 1477. I expected that there would be more vegetation after three centuries, but the area is still very bare, which adds to its awe-inspiringness. No flowers to soften the sharp edges. This is harsh reality. A wide path leads through the lava field, with a cable running along it to protect the fragile vegetation from probing feet. I am now surrounded by tourists and day trippers, because this is not only a major tourist attraction, the Laugavegur, Iceland’s most popular trail, also starts here. After a mile and a half of lava I descend to Landmannalaugar. It takes some getting used to after 2.5 days of loneliness. Wooden buildings with a huge cooking tent behind. A sea of ​​tents. So many cars, so many people. Yet that also has its advantages. A few Germans hold my tent while I ram the pegs into the hard packed soil with a rock. At the back are three buses with a shop, Landmannalaugar's legendary Mountain Mall. I get a can of coke and it tastes so good. And then I hit the road again, because the day is still young and it is simply too good to be idle.

Several routes are marked from the main building and I choose the red one to Surðunámur which Paddy Dillon recommends in his guide of Iceland. I leave Landmannalaugar via a platform across a swampy area. In a clear stream a small bird searches for food with nervous movements. Other streams are bubbling and full of poisonous green algae. This is a thermal area full of hot springs and this is reflected in the landscape. Via a wooden bridge I cross a river and climb the path to a rock that offers a view of the ford, which is an attraction in itself. Experienced Icelanders drive effortlessly through the deep water, tourists hesitant and careful. On the other side, the parking lot is full of cars of people who did not want or could risk it. I follow the road for about 600 meters, overlooking the delta where rivers spread out like the tentacles of an octopus. Then I start to climb. And climb even more. New brown mountains appear, spectacularly beautiful. And the higher you get, the better you experience the landscape. Suddenly I see a second lava field, but also the mountain from which the lava once flowed down into the valley. The black plain of strangely shaped rocks now has a certain logic to it, although it is neatly intersected by the road. A different lava flow than the Laugahraun, but just as impressive. The wind is blowing harder and harder, but I don't feel it. The landscape remains too beautiful. Then a few mountain bikers meet me, who take the path while braking. They are being filmed and after the recording they walk back up to do it again. Rather them than me. I arrive at Hellismannaleið again and had planned to change to a different route here. But the name on the sign by the yellow posts is unfamiliar and I choose certainty. I follow the red posts to Vondugil with its waterfall and numerous streams. At the exit to Landmannalaugar I turn right this time, towards the Bláhnúkur, to the route Dillon describes in his guide. Now I walk among the day trippers and hikers on their way to Hrafntinnusker or the slightly further distant Áltfavatn. The geothermal hotspot a little further is special. The mountains are steaming, but the sulfuric air is unbearable and the stones are yellow and gray.Here I leave the Laugavegur and follow white markings down into the lava field. Careful, careful. No easy tourist path here, but quietly puzzling where to put my feet. At a signpost, I switch to the yellow markers that I follow through the Laugahraun and to another valley, Graenagil, which means ‘green gorge’. A river flows amid beautiful brown mountains. It’s fast and quite deep. I look for a place to cross and eventually accept that one foot will get a bit damp. I can take it and jump to the other side. There I cross a snow field to the point where the last yellow pole is. There are multiple paths and no more markers. The path straight ahead which leads up across a narrow ridge is closed due to a dangerous snow bridge. I will not give up that easily. There is another path which I would have preferred to avoid under other circumstances. I start to climb and it is so steep that it borders on the absurd. I would not have ventured here without trekking poles and how on earth will the group of hikers meeting me descend here? I pass them and then see a group coming down from higher up the mountain on a path which looks just as ridiculous. Fortunately, a few French hikers inform me that you can also reach the top from behind on an easier path. I opt for convenience and safety and follow the route into a side valley. The climb is gradual and not too difficult. I am continuously  distracted by the landscape, which becomes more beautiful the higher I get. The wind is getting stronger until I consciously have to stay standing upright. Again I am glad to have my trekking poles which give me extra stability. I watch in amazement at the walkers who amble down as if it were nothing. And that across a narrow ridge with an abyss on both sides. At 943 meters, I am at the top of Bláhnúkur, ‘Blue Peak’, higher than the surrounding mountains and the view is spectacular in every direction. But the wind is too strong to enjoy it for long. I have no eye for the plaque with the names of the surrounding mountains. I descend and this time there are decent zigzags to get into the valley in a controlled manner. You still have to be careful, because the path consists of sand and gravel. It’s a long way down and not fast going. Finally I look out again upon the river and the hikers who have walked the white route. And then I see rocks which are green. Not because of moss, the stone itself is a strange shade of green. Very strange. A few zigzags further and I am on a plain, where I follow a path to first a broken bridge and then a platform across the water against which the waves crash. I come out behind the Mountain Mall and treat myself to a treat to celebrate the best day of my life. And what better end to a day like today than a lovely bath in a natural warm pool. It is in fact a cold and a red-hot brook coming together, and where the two streams of water mix it is pleasantly warm. I enjoy it together with about twenty others and it is very enjoyable.

View my pictures of this hike here.