The closer we got to the site of the Krafla Fires, the bleaker the landscape became. As well as barren and broken rock as far as the eye could see, the whole area was steaming quietly to itself. It was also very grey, and the only real colour was provided by green moss and the occasional pinky/orange rock which looked for all the world like buried house bricks. Every photographer should have a spouse with a red jacket, and the first image demonstrates that I am no exception.
Every so often we found a solitary plant clinging to existence among the lava, but this was the exception rather than the rule. In most areas it was moss or - usually - nothing.
The next few images include people, and hopefully give some idea as to the scale of the place. Talk about post-apocalyptic...
The last few images are of some of the people we met while walking around the lava fields. The lady with the camera is clearly not Russian - partly because she wasn't travelling as part of a herd, but mainly because she knows exactly how to use a lens hood. As for the little boy with his hand over one of the many volcanic vents, his sense of wonder sums up everything I felt in visiting this place. It was exactly how I imagined Iceland would be when I first saw news footage of Surtsey and Heimæy as a child back in the '60s and '70s. Truly magical.
The following day dawned dull and grey, but thankfully it was no longer tipping down. Mývatn was like a mirror in the calm conditions; and, because there was no sun to prompt them to hatch, the lakeside was mercifully free of midges.
The plan for the morning was to visit Krafla, which is only a short drive from Reykjahlíð. We'd visited the main volcano caldera and power station on our previous trip, so this time we decided to go for a walk to the large geothermal area which was the site of the Krafla Fires: a series of fissure eruptions and magma movements which happened between December 1975 and September 1984. Not very long ago in geological time, in other words.
Some of the older lava is now covered in mosses and lichens, but there are still plenty of places consisting of bare rock. A few straggly plants had managed to gain a foothold in the hostile environment, but nothing of any size.
Evidence of volcanic activity was everywhere, and the ground was steaming in places as we approached the site of the most recent eruption.
We were expecting other visitors at a place as famous as Krafla, but it soon became clear that the number of people wielding expensive camera equipment was rather higher than normal. They turned out to be Homo photographicus rutheniensis - a bunch of Russians on a photographic tour of Iceland. Very well equipped, but they all had one thing in common: not one of them seemed to know what a lens hood was for...
The rather ominous pall arising in the distance is not an impending volcanic eruption, but steam coming from the nearby geothermal power station.
The wind had dropped overnight, but the day dawned grey and overcast. The lack of wind also resulted in an increase in midge numbers (Myvatn means "Midge Lake") and they were pretty well everywhere we went today. The day started with a bang, as we observed a Happy Camper (male), just across the field, walk into the lake stark naked and proceed to have a pee. Harriet got her binoculars trained on him just in time...
We drove past the thermal vents we'd visited last night (now full of coaches) and headed for Krafla, where the most recent eruptions had happened between 1975 and 1984. On the way we went past a geothermal power station in the middle of what looked like an industrial wasteland. It's difficult to believe that the wasteland is completely natural, and the power station is simply taking steam from bore holes and using it to power turbines. As green as it gets in fact.
We stopped by the side of a steaming stream, and then again at the top of the hill to look back on the power station area.
We then went up to the edge of the Krafla caldera and walked up to the rim. It was very muddy, and our shoes soon weighed three times more than normal. As yesterday, everyone was ignoring the "Danger, Keep Out" notices and walking all around the rim of the crater, which was full of water and a certain amount of snow.
The group of tiny people in the top right of the image below gives some sense of scale to the caldera.
I wonder how much Sir Tim Berners-Lee would pay for the following number plate?
By this time the rain was quite heavy, so we decided to move on. We'd spotted that the power station had a visitors' centre, so we went there to have a look. A very interesting display, looked after by a very bored looking girl. So bored in fact that we decided to talk to her for a while. As an engineer I was fascinated by how simple and elegant the system was, using both high and low pressure steam to drive different sized turbines, plus cold water to help with condensing the steam. Although it's difficult to see in the pictures, the exterior wall of the main turbine hall is actually a set of man-made waterfalls. All very efficient, and not a smoke stack in sight.
