Hello again, Blogonauts!

The average visitor to Iceland spends only 2-or-3 days in the country, hangs out mostly in Reykjavik (plus soaking in the Blue Lagoon hot spring), and if they take one day-trip outside the city, it is to visit Iceland's "Golden Circle."

In contrast, my itinerary has been to spend more than 2 weeks in the country, to bypass the Blue Lagoon and see the Fagradalsfjall volcano instead, and then to devote 10 days to driving the entire circumference of the island. Only today could I wedge in a visit to the Golden Circle. (You can see some photos to accompany the narrative by clicking on the "Photos" tab above.)

But first, there was a bit of bureaucracy to tend to. All passengers coming to the US from overseas are required to have a negative COVID test before boarding the plane. So, in order to fly home on Saturday, I presented myself to the man with the 8-inch cotton swab to tickle my adenoids. Thirty minutes later, the email arrived in my phone telling me I was clean as a whistle.

So then, back to playing tourist.

The Golden Circle contains 3 primary stops in a 150-mile grand tour from Reykjavik: Þingvellir (pronounced "THING-vet-leer"), the Geysir thermal complex, and the Gullfoss (pronounced "GOOTL-foss") waterfall (pronounced … oh, you know).

There are at least a couple of things that make Þingvellir special, and one of them is really more special to Icelanders than to visitors. This out of the way spot was, beginning in the 9th century, the gathering ground for annual meetings of Iceland's chieftains, the Alþingi (pronounced "ALL-thingy"). Here they would enact laws and settle disputes. Even today, Iceland's parliament is called the Alþingi, but they've decided that meeting indoors in Reykjavik is preferable to camping out in a soggy volcanic field.

To NON-Icelanders, while that history is of some interest, perhaps a story divorced from politics, that of the land itself, holds more appeal.

In earlier posts, I mentioned that Iceland straddles the North American and European tectonic plates. Well, Þingvellir sits directly atop that fault, and the basic sub-surface instability helps to continuously (albeit slowly) create and re-create the landscape here.

Parallel ridges and canyons show how the land has pulled apart over time. Öxaráfoss (the falls of the Öxará River) pours perfectly over the rim of the ravine, almost as if set up by a movie set designer. As recently as 2011, a new rift appeared in the primary ravine, testimony to how new and unsettled the land is here.

About 30 minutes north of Þingvellir is the Geysir thermal area. The English word "geyser" is borrowed from the Icelandic "Geysir", which is the name of a now-dormant geyser on this hot property. Even though the area's namesake has gone quiet, there are still several bubbling, steaming, stinky springs, all relatively near one another. And as if taking Geysir's place, another geyser named Strokkur erupts skyward approximately every 5-10 minutes.

Only a few minutes further along is the Gullfoss waterfall. (Waterfalls in Iceland are scattered like cathedrals are in the rest of Europe: Many towns have one, and each has its own unique charms. Even though you've visited several before, something still draws you in to see the next one.)

Gullfoss plunges into a canyon that forces the river to make an immediate 90-degree turn. This means that it is possible to be very close to ALL the falling water and its spray. Result? Rainbows. The sun's angle today made it almost impossible to take a photo that didn't have at least a hint of a rainbow in the frame.

After a disappointing search for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, it was time to trek back to Reykjavik. Tomorrow's plan depends on how much cooperation I get from the weather. I'd like to visit some lighthouses.

Blog to you later!