Karalana offered me to stay another night and I was so tempted, but I needed to push myself out into the cold. I knew I would regret the comfort if I were to have stayed.
“It feels like I’m sending my daughter away,” Arnar said.
Karalana goes, “Don’t expect kindness from the locals as they tend to be stingy and not hospitable.”
Even though I barely knew the country, I never believed in that story. I think people’s kindness surpassed the state or country in which they came from.
As I was putting on my coat, she shook her head in disbelief. “You will not survive in the cold with that.”
I doubted I would, too. I had brought winter gear but I had grown used to warmth over the last several months.
Arnar suggested I hitch south then make my way up and around. The locals called the main highway the “ring road.” He wanted to help me out some by driving me out of the city.
Karalana asked if I needed more layers to stay warm. I thanked her and said I was good.
“There’s a joke in Iceland,” she said, “if you find yourself lost, just stand up.”
The joke being there were no trees.
We hit the road. I looked at the mountains, now blanketed with white and unrecognizable to the previous day.
He said, “That’s how we know winter is coming.”
In the early hours of the morning he dropped me off at a gas station where he felt it would be a great spot to get a ride. He was right! There was a wide opening for cars to pull over.
“Thanks!” I said, then went inside to grab a hot dog. There were so many attractive guys. Yesterday, Karalana expressed that the Icelandic boys were very easy, that I could just stand there and they would come to me.
“Thank god,” I said, “I love easy.”
After I ate, I stood outside and stuck my thumb out, my eyes watering from the nasty wind.
What the fuck am I doing? I thought to myself, It is way too cold for this shit.
Suddenly a car pulled over, a local guy in a big pickup truck.
As if reading my thoughts, he said, “It’s too cold to be out here.”
“Yeah, I thought it’d be warmer here.”
“If you haven’t noticed, you’re in Iceland. It is ah terrible to come out here in this fucking weather.”
I laughed. “I’m headed to Vík!”
“I’m going to Selfoss but I’ll be going there later.”
“I don’t know where that is,” I said as I hopped into his car, “but I’ll go!”
“It has been the worst summer yet,” he said as he started driving. “10° at a high. It was horrible. It’s not even just me, it’s in the statistics.”
His car was getting pulled by the wind but he had a light smile on his face, insinuating that it was nothing out of the ordinary. Dark disc clouds began forming, giving insight that a storm was approaching and I was possibly going to be fucked.
This should be exciting, I thought.
We drove through lava fields covered in pale green moss as more steam pockets popped into view.
“Woah!” I beamed. “You can smell it.”
“Yaya,” he confirmed, “itta smell like uh shit.”
Ha! I actually loved the scent of sulfur as it reminded me of the natural hot springs I had visited in the states.
“Are there a lot of hitchhikers here?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Are most of them from out of the country?”
“Ya,” he said, “all of them.”
He dropped me off at the outskirts of Selfoss. I began walking when a truck driver pulled over and opened the passenger door. He eye-fucked me but I could feel he was harmless so I hopped in.
“Thanks!” I said.
He was a Polish guy just a bit older than me. “You single?” he asked. “Have ah husband?”
“I’m single and I love to be alone.”
He checked me out again and blushed. I was never that into Polish guys but I haven’t gotten laid in a while. I knew I could just bite my lip and he would make a move. Suddenly his phone started ringing and he kindly asked me to keep my mouth shut. I gave him a thumbs up. I assumed it was his girl.
He was on a time schedule and wasn’t headed directly to Vík so he let me off at one of the roundabouts. The wind was even worse there, knocking me over as I hitched. A Swiss woman and her daughter picked me up and drove me a good chunk. She told me about a secret lagoon that was worth checking out. I wanted to visit all of the lagoons and hot springs however from what the locals told me, nudity was not allowed.
”Want to visit a waterfall?” she asked.
“Yes!” I emitted.
It was called Seljalandsfoss and it was huge! The wind made it appear as if it was defying gravity, pulling up streaks of water up and over the rock face. People could even walk behind the waterfall. I felt tempted to check it out however when I saw people come back soaking wet I figured it would be best not to. I only had one day outfit so I had to be smart so as to not get it wet while in the cold climate, especially since I planned on tent-camping.
They dropped me off at Skógafoss Waterfall which was where I planned on stopping at, too. I was going to do a quick in and out hike via the Fimmvörðuháls trail which followed the Skógá River, showcasing a plethora of stunning waterfalls. I felt tempted to do the whole thing once I started walking but this was the most strenuous hike I’ve done since the injury. I was getting whipped, pulled and tossed by the wind when I was short of reaching the bridge, approximately 7.5k from the waterfall. Snow clouds were in the near distance, growing thick gray and the visibility low. A few of us with overnight camping gear turned around. I held onto a boulder as the wind made its vicious rounds, then made my way back down and hitched towards Vík.
All of the hitches since I left Reykjavík were super easy. I waited no more than 30 seconds. I got picked up by an older German couple. The language barrier was quite difficult, however I did understand when they asked if I wanted to go see a glacier.
“Ya!” I exclaimed.
I always felt like I got adopted for the day when I joined tourists on their stops, especially when they let me leave my pack in their car. I knew no German words other than ‘gesundheit,’ so at the glacier we communicated through universal words such as “wow” and “oo” while taking in the views. I ended up being their personal photographer for the day.
The glacier was called Mýrdalsjökull. The pieces of ice were accented with streaks of black from volcanic rock, giving it a zebra-like appearance.
I met four Lithuanians during the hike so that was fun.
“We’re everywhere,” one of them said.
Then, the Germans dropped me off in Vík and I walked through neighborhoods until I asked a local guy where I could find a campground. He pointed in the general direction where I caught notice of some tents and RV’s.
My people!
It was the best camping spot I’ve seen since I left the city, although it was still very exposed. I was promised trees by now but nada. If it weren’t for the campground I would’ve cowboy camped in an abandoned building.
The camp hosts said it would be 500 if I wanted to do laundry.
“That sounds like a lot of money,” I said, “I haven’t gotten used to hearing ‘hundreds’ and ‘thousands’ after being from America.”
They laughed and said, “Yeah, it sounds bad but it doesn’t come out to be much. Probably around $4.50 American dollars.”
