Photographic Diary - Hiking at the Fagradalsfjall Volcano in Iceland

Hiking at the Fagradalsfjall Volcano

Words: Evelyn Edward

Images: Odysseas Chloridis

The earth shakes and rumbles under the Reykjanes peninsula with many indications pointing that another volcanic eruption is imminent. Whether that happens or not, the Fagradalsfjall volcano is one the best places for a daily adventure/hike, and it can be done easily from Reykjavik. 

The volcano itself is about an hour's drive away from the city, but with lots to see along the way it won't feel like a long drive at all. Four of us from the HI Iceland team set off on a sunny Sunday evening to make the most of the long summer days and make our way up the volcano. 

Getting to Fagradalsfjall is a relatively smooth journey along paved road- on our way, we stopped at Lake Kleifarvatn to watch swimmers brave the cold water, as well as Seltún geothermal pools, where water boils from the ground and sulphur stains the ground orange yellow and blue. With the drive taking you through diverse landscapes from snowy mountaintops to grassy plains and moss-covered, rocky landscapes, it feels like you have touched down on another planet. 

While the flow of the volcano has slowed down now following its eruption in March 2021- there is no hot rushing magma or crater explosions- it is perhaps even more impressive to see the smoldering lava and let your imagination run wild with what lies under the tall dark rock. 

In preparation for the summer high season the infrastructure surrounding the area has had to adapt rapidly- please note there is now a car parking charge- and several routes to viewpoints have been signposted. These vary in length and difficulty- we opted to head up a large hill with a zig-zag path marked out. While fairly easy underfoot, there is a lot of loose gravel that can slip you up- make sure to bring shoes with a good tread. 

We trekked our way up to the viewpoint (following Path C towards Langihryggur), slowly but surely while the sun slid behind the mountains. As we got higher we could see more of the valley than before- the lava rock went on for miles, a black, sprawling mass upon the rocky landscape. When we arrived at the top (comfortable but slightly out of breath) we had the best view of the lava steam rising through the cracks in the rocks, creating a contrasting soft white layer over the land. We stood there for a while, taking in the scenery. 

On the way down we faced amazing views of the ocean and all the way over to Grindavik- the small fishing town that faced three weeks of earthquakes before the eruption. The sea was so calm and the area so quiet that it was almost hard to believe that hundreds of meters below us, the earth was violent with energy, shifting and reforming itself. 

Iceland is a country with a constantly shifting landscape- whether it's the extreme seasons, weather or geographical changes- and we saw that on a mass scale on our trip to Fagradalsfjall. And who knows- with more and more volcanic activity being recorded in the Reykjanes peninsula, the next Fagradalsfjall could happen sooner than we think. 

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Photographic Diary - Dawn in New York

Dawn in New York.

Almost two years have passed since this August morning in the city that never sleeps.

I tried to stay true to Frank Sinatra's words and managed to get only an hour of sleep before embarking on what was going to be a 5-day, once-in-a-lifetime journey from New York to New Orleans, documenting @thestartupbus, a crazy half hackathon, half road trip experience.

Almost two years have passed since that warm August morning and so much has changed. The pandemic put dreams, plans, jobs, and traveling on hold.

I still remember the excitement I felt that morning. This "flutter" you feel in your stomach before doing something new, important, and frightening like having to speak in front of an audience. Your heartbeat increases and your mind sprints forward to what's about to come as you try to prepare in front of the uncertainty that awaits you. But unlike the uncertainty most of us faced this year, this is a good kind of uncertainty. It's a sign that tells us we have reached a threshold, after which we leave our comfort zone and expand, learn and develop.

We should crave more for this feeling, I think. I almost forgot this emotion during this year. But the recent trip to Eastern Turkey at an ESC Erasmus+ program to help and protect sea turtles reminded me of it.

The excitement of the upcoming journey was there of course. But so was a form of intense uneasiness, one that I am not used to before traveling. This year's lockdown was dull, but the daily routine in the familiar environment of Thessaloniki also offered comfort and easiness.

But the trip to Turkey knocked these feelings off the table - and for good reason. Traveling once again into places and people unknown with the commitment to stay and work there for a considerable amount of time, away from the comfortable, soft, and easy-going life that the Greek summer offers brought the old stomach feeling back.

Almost two years have passed since that warm August morning in New York and so much remains the same. The need to explore, experience, and expand our cognitive horizons maybe got muted but it's still there craving to taste more. The old stomach feeling seems to always be right. It shows up before something important like it's trying to tell us that we are heading into open waters and promising new lands of knowledge, new friends, images, tastes and smells.

It states that we are growing and that we will not be the same after this upcoming experience - we will be better.

Trust the ol' the stomach feeling. It's here to guide you, not frighten you.