Don’t worry everyone, I’ve read the reviews and am here to give the people what they want. It’s Gillian back for another enthralling guest blog. I know that it will be hard to create a blog post as eloquent and enticing as my debut back in 2022, but rest assured I am ready to rise to the challenge.
This fine Thursday morning we piled into our gleaming white chariot to start the journey from Egilsstadir to Husavik across the rolling Modrudalsoraefi black sand desert. Now, spoiler alert, one thing that we have learned on this leg of the journey is that the weather differs vastly on different parts of the island. When we left in the morning, it was shaping up to be another beautifully warm day in the East Fjords, just as it had been the day before. By the time we unloaded in Northern Iceland, I was layering on a second pair of pants.
We, in typical Flatt fashion, were sure to make a few stops before we reached our final destination. Would it be a Flatt family road trip if we weren’t pulling off the side of the road to see cool things?
All three of the waterfalls that we saw today (spoilers!) were located within the confines of the Jokulsarglijufur National Park. Our very first stop and first foss - confirmed to be the Icelandic word for waterfall - has been dubbed ‘Dettifoss.’ Dettifoss is said to be the most powerful waterfall in all of Europe. Now, during the damp walk from dry observation deck to other dry observation deck, Ryan and I were lucky enough to taste some of the mist. We felt the power. Not as much power as if we had been able to drink straight from the foss, but enough to get us through the rest of the day for sure.
There was an added bonus of the Dettifoss stop; another waterfall, Selfoss, was but a half kilometer walk away. Selfoss was a fun stop, but the most disappointing part of this little excursion was that my mother stopped me from climbing up the tallest rock stack of the foss. Something about it ‘not being a marked trail’ and ‘I was going to have to get a backpack leash if I kept trying to climb rocks.’ Nonsense really, but she made up for this personal attack by letting me climb a different rock a bit closer to the parking lot.
Back on the road for about two seconds before we pulled off once more for our third and final foss of the day. Now, for some reason unbeknownst to me, it was significantly colder at the Hafragilsfoss. But we were undeterred - we suited up and set forth on the perilous 300 meter paved walk to the observation deck. After the treacherous journey we finally clawed our way to the observation deck. We hauled our bodies up to the railing, eager to see the foss that we had battled so hard to see, and…
Nothing.
Along with the cold that had rolled in, there was also a thick fog. We could vaguely hear the sound of a foss in the distance, but there was none to actually be seen. With slight disappointment, yet still a sense of pride at the trek thus far, we turned and loaded back into the van. We refueled from the chocolate pockolate and continued to drive towards Husavik. That is, until we realized our penultimate stop of the drive was right next to the Hafragilsfoss parking lot. So we turned around so that we could be sure to see the trolls. (Callback! This was the stop in which I added the second pair of pants.)
Now then, I know what y’all are thinking. We got to see real Icelandic trolls? Well, yes and no. Were they real trolls and in Iceland? Yes! Were they alive? No. Karl and Kerling are large stones located in the Vesturdalur valley that are said to look like trolls. And it may take some a bit longer to see the trolls in the rocks than others - it did me. It took me a hot second to see the trolls - but they definitely were there. The 2 kilometer hike was peaceful and framed with a beautiful view of the valley below. This valley actually held the aforementioned mystery foss, but we still couldn’t quite find it. But Karl, Kerling, and their cave more than made up for it.
Satisfied that we had seen everything this bout of stops had to offer, we turned once more to the open road. Some naps were taken, more chocolate was eaten from the pockolate, Greg continued his masterful international driving - a great ride all around. Once we were about 30 minutes away from the final destination, we decided to take one last stop to see a big ol’e hoofprint. This hoofprint belongs to the eight-legged horse Sleipnir, son of Loki and steed of Odin. The best way that I can think to describe the Asbyrgi Canyon (home of the hoofprint) is through this quote from my designated buddy:
“That looks like the place where a godly horse left a hoofprint.”
-Ryan Flatt, 2024
The canyon was nice, and it was accompanied by a small market of handmade items. It was, as I have come to realize is typical for Icelandic markets, full of wool sweaters along with a myriad of other items. Including hats! Audrey got a very nice knit green hat. The visitor center also housed a nice display of various facts about the natural world, as well as a coffee machine that Greg promptly broke. (Just kidding, he didn’t actually break it, the machine just so happened to reboot at the moment he tried to get an americano, but he was only gifted a meager little espresso.)
In a shocking turn of events, we loaded into the van for a final time (haha! Got you! It wasn’t shocking at all!) and headed the rest of the way into Husavik, a town that is sometimes known as the whale watching capital of Iceland. Our final stop was for dinner at a nice restaurant close by the hotel - although, let’s be honest, nothing is that far from the hotel. Icelandic towns just aren’t that big - for a very tasty dinner in which Ryan and Elizabeth got to try wolffish for the first time. The final verdict is split between the two, but it was a pleasant meal together nonetheless.
With dinner dined and sights seen, we decided to call it for the night. We piled out of the gleaming white chariot for the last time of the day and retreated to our rooms to drift off to sweet dreams.
Thank each and every one of you for speaking up and asking for the quality writing you deserve. It has been an absolute treat to blog for y’all once again, and I know that this thrilling installment of the Flatt family blog has had everyone on the edge of their seats. Rest assured tomorrow you will be spared from the gritty details of our perilous adventures - what is lost in drama I am sure will be made up in clever quips and interesting facts. Until the next time, fair readers.
Sincerely,
Gillian “The Wild Child” Flatt
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