the campground dog looking for food |
going to see the top of the falls |
hanging on for dear life at the deep end |
Determined to break off the ring road we follow the side road northwards. It soon turns to a dirt track that suddenly becomes a ribbon of loose rocks. It's barely navigable. However, there is an old bridge crossing the huge wide river beside the road. There are large rocks placed to stop vehicles using it, but we can see from tracks that locals still do. We check the map. On the far side is an an enormous open plain. Except, in the near distance, an isolated hill, the larger brother of the one on ourside of the river. These two hills are the rocky incarnations of legendary figures mentioned in the Icelandic Sagas. Or so I imagine. I really don't know. While I'm trying to invent some myth about why they are located here, separated by the river, Gayle is halfway across. On the other side we camp beside the dyke which is preventing the river from moving even wider across the plain. After only cycling twenty minutes off the ring road we are suddenly in a quiet empty place. It's wonderful.
In the morning we continue north along a rocky dirt track that brings us to Glugafoss. These falls are little visited but are quite unusual as the water has formed a chimney into the rock and then worn 'windows' into the chimney. The water gushes out of three separate windows. Not a coach tour in sight, too.