The Laugavegur is a 55km hike in south-west Iceland, usually completed over four days. It’s one of those classic hikes – the sort that are so classic that you should book months in advance if you want to be sure of a spot in the huts. Of course, if you don’t mind camping in the rain, then you’re probably ok. But given the weather in the area, chances are you would be spending at least one night sitting outside cooking in the rain, then huddling in the damp of your tent. We booked space in the huts.
After a four hour bus ride from Reykjavik, we were grateful to be out of the bus and able to stretch our legs (and set the Moosling loose) once we arrived in Landmannalaugar. And then it started to rain. Finishing lunch and then getting sorted to hike in the mizzly rain, we set forth through the twisty-tortured moss-covered lava fields of Laugahraun. Distant sheep wandered about wetly and the picturesque mountains were shrouded in clouds.
Hiking further along, the ground was steaming too. Between that, the clouds, and the mizzling rain, it was a very damp hike, with just a hint of sulphur.
But then, slowly, the rain stopped falling on us. And even if the clouds didn’t really lift, it was a definite improvement. And those ridiculously colourful rhyolite mountains were peeking out at us everywhere, with their artistic daubs of moss and ash-saturated snow, looking like a painted backdrop rather than genuine scenery.
Hiking on through the alien scenery, the crowds thinned out, until we were mostly walking on our own, occasionally running into another couple hiking along, or stopping for a snack. Although numbers on the trail are high, and the distances to cover each day are low, everyone seems to thin out over the whole trail, with late starters, and early starters, and “lets sit in this meadow for a few hours”ers.
Although there was a lot of geothermal activity to be seen, the only bathable hot springs for the day were behind us, in Landmannalaugar. We’d decided not to partake, feeling that everything was damp enough already, and really wanting to do something other than sitting after the bus ride.
Before too long we were hiking across rocky plains, following yellow painted poles and walking past a memorial to an Israeli who had died of exposure up here in recent years. Then around a corner, and the hut appeared – the Hrafntinnusker, our home for the night. Sleeps 52 (plus a Moosling who kept trying to crawl into the kitchen). Below it were nestled a colony of colourful tents, each ineffectually huddling by an optimistic wall of balanced rocks.
Distance: 12km
Terrain: A bit hilly, with an overall altitude gain of 470m
