I began early at 6:30 am, about three hours before most other hikers it seems, so I walked for a few hours in splendid solitude, even the wind was still. I thought I heard voices, but on stopping and turning there was no-one there, maybe ghosts from the sagas, killed in some blood feud, outlawed to the highlands, or maybe just the squeaking of my rucksack.
Throughout the day I passed areas of steam belching from the ground with a strong sulphurous smell. Sometimes it was from pots or patches of boiling water. Encrustations of yellow sulphur, and red or grey deposits often surrounded these fumaroles. Nearby moss was bright green. Near the start of my day's walk the surrounding mountains were fawn to red with an occasional tongue of blocky, black lava. Later, the ash turned black. On reaching higher ground I was increasingly walking across snow, following the tracks left by many others, people I was now meeting on the trail, exchanging a polite "hello". I stopped at the Hrfantinnusker hut for a Pepsi and Mars bar, eating it in the sun watching people just starting their day's walk. Nearby a few people were unpacking an enormous amount of food from a 4x4 with grossly outsized tyres. I presumed it was for one of the organised tours which walk the trail, with food and luggage delivered for them at the huts.
Later, before a steep descent, I looked into distant valleys, the landscape seemed mythical, ancient untouched by man with roads and buildings and street lights. Reaching my intended destination of Álftavatn hut I was disappointed, but not surprised to discover that the "restaurant" was to open in three days time. I am now camped by the river, among miniature flowers, with a view of the lake ("vatn" means lake) and snow streaked mountains. A harlequin duck and its mate are sitting at the water's edge preening themselves.
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