Iceland Day 19 – Golden Circle

Saturday September 13, Tungufell to Reykjavík

Today's post is split into two parts: first, the day along the Golden Circle and then, the night in Reykjavík. This post documents our day starting in Tungufell and our visits to the big three sights along the Golden Circle: Gullfoss, the Haukadalur geothermal area and the Strokkur geyser, and Þingvellir National Park.

Common Blackbird, our Alarm Clock

The clouds that rolled in gradually last evening rewarded us with gentle rain all night long, rain that provided sufficient white noise for me to sleep for nine hours, a great feeling after spending yesterday exhausted. Imagine my surprise after awaking around dawn, it still raining, to finally awake later to the sun shining, portending a great day, if omens are a thing. Just outside the bedroom window, blackbirds, another cousin of the American Robin, were raising a ruckus as they noisily raided the berries from the Rowans by the house.

We had plans for lunch today, something we have not done since our fantastic lunch at Matarlist in Ólafsvík back at the beginning of our trip. And like that memorable meal two weeks ago, today's embarrassing lunch at Friðheimar would be perhaps even more memorable, for all the wrong reasons. Having to plan our day around a 1300 lunch reservation nearby before heading to Reykjavík meant that we could take a leisurely morning and depart late. We enjoyed the change of pace in leaving at 0930 rather than much earlier as we had become accustomed to.

Our first stop was Gullfoss, a mere 4.5 km upriver from where we spent the night. Holy waterfall Batman! This stunning waterfall is why we came to Iceland. It was mind-blowing to see this gorgeous torrent pouring off a ledge only to tumble violently off another ledge into a diagonal fissure throwing spray hundreds of meters downwind. Dettifoss is pure brutal ugliness compared to Gullfoss, perhaps the crown jewel of Iceland's waterfalls, combining size, power, and beauty in one package, although Dynjandi is also high in the running for height and grace.

Walking Down to Gullfoss, Shaping up to be Gorgeous!

First Look at Gullfoss, Gold Falls

Annie in Her Raspberry Raincoat Against the Falls

This Spray Was Landing About 200 Meters Further Downstream
and Soaking Everything

We arrived at Gullfoss just before the busloads of tourists arrived from Reykjavík, so it was relatively peaceful. That said, already in the parking lot were several monster Jeeps and trucks belonging to smaller tour groups. Many companies offer off-road tours of the Icelandic highlands in these massively jacked-up trucks that would make certain Central Oregonians feel inadequate: those who drive lifted diesel pickups as emotional support vehicles. Where jacked-up pavement princess trucks in Central Oregon serve no practical purpose, in Iceland, their trucks with 40-inch or larger tires and custom ride height adjustment are necessary for traversing nearly impassable roads, raging glacial rivers, and massive snowfalls.

Our next stop, working ever closer to our lunch destination, was Haukadalur geothermal area, home to Strokkur Geyser which erupts every 5-10 minutes. It is also home to the former geyser called Geysir from which we derived the English word geyser. We found it really kind of meh. We went, we got the pictures, we could have skipped it. Yellowstone for the win.

Lupines at Haukadalur

Mud Pot

The Inactive Geyser Named Geysir

Konungshver, The King's Hot Spring

Mineral Deposits at Konungshver

Blesi

Fata

The big attraction at the geothermal area is the geyser named Strokkur, which erupts every 4-6 minutes. My best shot came as I heard it go off as I was walking and not looking at it. I had already pre-focused the camera and had it set to rapid burst mode. Shooting from the hip, I got lucky to get the shot below. Ann, who stayed behind on a bench next to the geyser while I wandered, shot a video that I was able to framegrab.

Strokkur

Strokkur, Frame Grab from Ann's Video

Litli Geysir

At the geothermal area, having time to kill, we decided to go inside the Visitor Center for a much needed restroom break, a respite from the brisk wind, and for a cup of coffee. To our great surprise, the interior was nicely appointed and they served excellent coffee, the best of our trip. Sometimes great coffee comes from totally unexpected places.

After sitting down to coffee and a muffin in the comfortable seating area, we got to talking with a foursome of ladies from Houston, two of whom were Houston PD officers. We had a nice chat with them comparing their multiple day trips from their Reykjavík base to our clockwise exploration of areas off the ring road.

Best Coffee of the Trip at the Geysir Centre

Between the geothermal area and lunch, we planned to stop at Faxafoss, a beautiful fall that spans the river below Gullfoss. As we were nearing the turn off, we saw a pasture jam-packed with thousands of sheep on the right and another full of horses on the left. Among the throngs of tourists snapping photos and gawking were what seemed to be a lot of Icelanders wearing horse riding kit.

A moment later, we joined a line of traffic backed up in the main road trying to turn into the Faxafoss parking lot that was clearly bedlam. People, horses, trailers, and tack were everywhere. Little did we know that we stumbled onto the annual sheep roundup day called Réttir, when farmers gather the sheep that roam about freely all summer before the harsh winter sets in. The name Réttir originates from the stonewalled pens once used to sort each farmer’s sheep into a different enclosure.

Horse Ready to Round Up Sheep

Réttir at Faxafoss: Annual Sheep Round-up and Sorting

Faxafoss

Salmon Ladder at Faxafoss

We left all the goings-on in a hurry because our GPS told us it would take 30 minutes to drive to lunch at Friðheimar and looking at the clock, it was 35 minutes before our reservation. In reality, the drive proved to be six minutes. Damn the mapping app! We could have stayed to watch more of the fascinating Réttir and perhaps have spoken to some locals about the event.

Friðheimar Tomato Farm

Friðheimar is a wonderful concept in agritourism, a restaurant in the greenhouses of a hydroponic tomato growing operation. Tables set among rows of tomato vines and flowers is a brilliant idea that is fun and unusual. The downside of a hydro-greenhouse is that it is warm and humid inside by definition, a lot too warm and too humid for my liking. Clearly, some things are right: it is big business, wildly popular, and looks to be a huge profit center for the farm. The servers were great as well, but the food was not good, and worse, terribly expensive. Expensive is OK, but the food has to deliver. Ours did not. As a chef, I would be embarrassed to serve such bad food.

Friðheimar’s bare bones offering is unlimited tomato soup and freshly baked bread. Sadly, the tomato soup is Campbell’s adjacent and bereft of charm. The only saving grace is that the tables are set with butter, sea salt, and pot of live basil, so you can doctor the bland soup. The bread looks good with a decent crust, but the crumb is squishy and moist. In a land of fantastic bread, this was mediocre.

They also offer more creative options, two of which we tried and regretted. We ordered a plate of pitiful mussels, small with tiny meats, that seemed pre-cooked (dried out) and not cooked to order. As for the flatbread pizza that they call a tortilla, better comes from any convenience store or any dive bar with a freezer and a microwave. The meal, as poor quality as it was, 100% lived up to my expectations. I expected garbage tourist schlock and I got it.

Tomato-Salt, Butter, Cucumber Salad, and Sour Cream
Add-ins for the Bland Soup

Tomato Soup in Name Only, Soulless and Bland

Mussels: I Do Not Believe They Were Cooked to Order

Flatbread: Just a Miserable Experience

Sunflowers Outside the Entrance

As we walked out of the humid greenhouse, it was hard to tell the difference in humidity outside. The overnight rain couple with sunny conditions pushing up to 14C, a veritable heat wave, gave a sauna-like feeling outside. It was nice, however, to crack the windows in the car as we pushed west to the final sight that we would see in Iceland, Þingvellir National Park.

The park is known for several things. First, it was the historic site of the Icelandic government for centuries. Second, it is a geographical wonder, situated in a rift valley between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates. Third, it is the location of gorgeous Þingvallavatn, the largest natural lake in Iceland.

Þingvellir was the site of the Alþing, the Icelandic parliament from 930 until 1798. Þing means assembly or governing body, vellir means fields, so Alþing, all the regional governing bodies. The Alþing was an open-air assembly that established laws and settled disputes. The national park is still home to the summer residence of the Prime Minister, but the government moved permanently to Reykjavík in the mid-19th century.

We drove into the park to a spot near the fissure called Silfra that runs through the rift valley moving water down the valley into Þingvallavatn. From there, I climbed up on the walls of the rift valley to look down into the rift and across the broad lake. I was surprised on my climb up to spot a couple sections of pahoehoe lava, surprised because I saw a lot of lava in Iceland, but only this single pahoehoe formation.

Pahoehoe forms when low-viscosity basaltic lava flows while a thin crust forms on its surface. The still flowing liquid lava below it drags and wrinkles the crust into the characteristic rope-like patterns seen in the photo below. We have numerous such formations in the Oregon Badlands near us.

Western Walls of the Rift Valley, background
foreground, Ropy Pahoehoe Lava Formation

Standing Between Rift Walls
Rift is Widening as the Two Plates Drift Apart

Looking Down at Þingvallakirkja (l) and Þingvallabær (r)
Þingvallabær is the Summer Residence of the Prime Minister

Looking Across the Rift Valley and the Silfra Fissure

After I climbed back down to the car park, Ann and I walked out to, across, and along the Silfra fissure, known today as a place for scuba diving and snorkeling. The water in the narrow fissure between the European and North American plates is crystal clear, icy, and surprisingly deep, up to 42 meters. People wanting to dive here must go with a licensed guide. We considered it for a moment, but the idea was not attractive enough for us to spend a lot of money hiring a guide.

Clear Water Headed to Þingvallavatn

Blueberries Turning Red Along the Fissure

Silfra Fissure

Cracks Happen and Widen as the Plates Diverge

The Silfra Dive Point

The Lava Here Covered by Moss, Lichens, and Short Blueberries

Őxarfoss Spilling Over Rift Wall

Annie Looking Towards Þingvallavatn

As we pulled out of the car park and drove back north up the rift valley to where we entered it, I could feel our long-planned bucket-list vacation coming quickly to a close. We climbed west out of the valley, drove past Őxarfoss, and made the short drive to join the ring road north of Reykjavik. The clash of suddenly leaving the countryside and arriving in suburbia was profound.

As the primary landmark in the capital, the large cathedral downtown called Hallgrímskirkja, loomed ever closer, the number of lanes increased, the speed limits dropped, and the traffic volume increased. We exited directly towards Hallgrímskirkja and ended up making a couple laps around it as we searched for our apartment a couple of blocks down the hill towards the harbor.

Ultimately, we found our apartment tucked in behind a couple of others and engaged in the battle to find parking in this city where parking is tightly controlled. But that story and others belong to the next post.