First I had breakfast. I had rented a (basic but adequate) "Bed and Breakfast" room at the campsite, but the breakfast was in another guesthouse 20 minutes walk away. While eating my breakfast, at the next table a family were eating a meal of cucumber and broccoli with a few of those air filled, insubstantial rice cakes. I felt sorry for the pale children having to put up with their parents' dietary choices, they looked like they needed some protein and carbohydrate. Even if their parents had an ethical viewpoint concerning animal related food, the kids could at least have tried some of the smokey, rye bread, baked in geothermal ovens, a speciality of the area which I was enjoying.
Having had plenty of protein and carbohydrates myself, I confirmed at the enlightening visitor centre that buses were as rare as I had suspected. So after a little laundry, I set off to walk to Dimmuborgir, trying to hitch a lift. After several empty cars passed a French - Italian couple very kindly stopped, and even better they were headed for the same place. Dimmuborgir consists of an area of columns created when hot, molten lava flowed over a wet area. The resultant steam punch a vertical hole through the lava cooling and solidifying the material immediately around it as a column. When the surrounding still molten lava drained away the columns remained, as weird contorted shapes with a few arches and caves. Leaving this area, said to be a playground of trolls, I walked to and struggled up the crater of Hverfjall, difficult to climb as it is composed of loose scoria. It is a volcanic structure only a few hundred years old.
Next on the agenda was the Mývatn baths. I tried the steam room supplied directly from cracks in the rock, then enjoyed a glass of white wine while soaking in the bluey white hot water of the large pool. Idly amusing myself I watched my hands disappear as I lowered them deeper into the milky water.
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