inland

I dressed warm and drove somewhere. About five minutes later the Chinese arrived. Where they were until then remained a mystery. Just as how did they find me. The northern lights did put up a real show, the Chinese reacted by screeching in chorus. I escaped from the scene and watched part two on a gravel road some distance away. Somehow I was back to the hostel before the Chinese.
A young couple had appeared in my room. Two nights out of three alone, well enough. That was what I was hoping for, if there's a choice between 4, 6 and 8 bed-dorm with a couple of euros price difference then the smallest one will be the least popular. Especially in winter. The Chinese made a lot of noice in the kitchen for some time.
I the morning I solve the installation built by the Chinese on the dish rack and re-wash plates that are still covered with jam. Manage to use the bathroom before peak time.
I move out in order to drive a bit closer to the airport. While a theater-hostel sounded good then a family hotel where everything is local and eco sounds also good. So I had to visit both of them. One night in the eco costs as much as three nights in the hostel. I'll probably not come back to the hostel for tonight's concert because the music sounded rather dull in the internet.
I attack inland along a road that has been closed all winter. There's no sign or anything so I'll take a look how far can I go. There should be two waterfalls and a place with nice view where you can climb. As if there wasn't nice view from other places. The road is good in the beginning, only trail leading to the first waterfall is partly covered in snow. As an experienced hiker I of course have everything with me all the time, like crampons for traversing slippery and tilted snow. On the way I remember that tripod is still in the car. Damn. But then again, only beginner-hikers carry tripods with them. The noice in front of me suggests that trolls are having a meeting. Seagulls. Trailmarks stop near loud murmur. The trail itself continues a while before disappearing under snow again. The waterfall is nowhere to be seen. Only a poem where the trailmarks stopped, as is here near most sights. This one is about mountain lady, fjallkona, who basically symbolizes Icelandic nature. Og ég, ég er lítill foss úr veröld hennar. The poem hints that the sight is actually somewhere here. Looking more closely it seems that the stream further away disappears under snow and this is where the murmur comes. So the waterfall is under the snow. Not bad.
Before the next waterfall is quite an amount of snow on the road with deep tracks in it. Two cars stand on the other side of the snow and one on this side. Probably it now goes only worse so I don't try to cross but leave the car and continue on foot. The second waterfall is snowfree. While I'm there I keep walking some more uphill. More and more snow. Someone has got stuck and a truck has been pulling it out. I reach a picnic spot. There's a bridge in the snowfield. The snowfield is deceptional, in some places snow has fallen into the river. The snow is about as deep as I am high. So I stay nicely on the grass. The tops of Snæfell come out of cloud for a while and the view is nice even without climbing to the specially designated place. Back to the car.
Sea and sky form a pretty color palette and I turn into a car park to take some pictures. There are the trolls of yesterday, with screaming seagulls in front.
Next is a canyon with a waterfall next to the road, Rauðfeldsgjá. It's possible to enter stepping on stones. Rubber boots would be nice but I've left them in the car as a true professional. Inside are twisted rocks and a huge snowblock.
Next to much-photographed Búðir church begins the trail over Búðahraun lavafield. Unbelievable landscape. Or is the earth just broken. Big patches of earth have dropped somewhere below. Small holes look like navels. All covered with modern sculpture and hundred spieces of moss. I walk until a big egg-shaped mountain and turn back. Most of the trails here are there-and-back type of trails which were used to visit neighbours or going to the next village. The people of old didn't walk in circles like today's time-killing people. It starts to drizzle. I reach the car. It starts to rain. I reach the big road. Sleet. Windscreen wipers make not much difference. Sleet doesn't fall directly down but rushes from right to left. In a while it comes back the other direction. Sleet lasts longer when used that way. Suddenly two swans wish to land on the roof of the car and fly above it for a while so that I can look between their fins. Then they rise a bit higher to cross the road. It rains sleet and swans.
The hotelroom is beautiful with a giant bath. The hostess seems a bit surprised because I was there a few days ago and ate soup. Tourists don't stay in one place for that long. People make daytours from Reykjavik to this peninsula.