 and that there's probably molten lava not too far down below my feet. And that, if Askja decided to break out again, I'd probably arrive in Berlin a couple of days earlier than expected, albeit not in one piece.
It was a strange place to swim in. Fairly alien. And swimming into a rock made it even weirder. No, not an underwater rock, but a fist-sized piece of rock swimming on the surface.
The reason for this was that pumice stone comes from volcanic origins and it's lighter than water, so some of those stones just happen to float on the lakes. Odd sight. And it turned almost surreal when I looked up.
Because in the meantime the bus from the other tour operator had arrived and it seems like their tour guide didn't tell them about the wonderful bathing opportunity here. :-) So I looked up, and along the rim of the crater were about 30 people, all in semi-polar gear [Gore-Tex jackets, windbreakers, sunglasses, wooly hoods and all that], standing in strong winds, obviously feeling cold and looking like creatures from another world, looking down at us four who were bathing in the lake, pulling out their cameras and taking pictures of us 'weirdos' down below. Suddenly we were the main attraction. The contrast between lying in the warm water an those windswept figures above us was just eerie.
The name of the crater, Viti, means 'hell' in Icelandic. So I (literally, but not figuratively) swam through hell and back again.
On the way back we stopped at the Drekagil gorge, which is at the side of the Askja caldera. According to the travel book it "resembles something out of Arizona or the Sinai; the habitually bitter winds and freezing temperatures just don't suit this sort of landscape!" Don't know about Arizona or Sinai, but the thing I found most interesting about that gorge were the stones on the river. The river carries lots of small pumice stones from the caldera and it is a rare sight to see bits of stones bobbing in the eddies of the stream.
Having seen all the most interesting sights in the north of Iceland, next day I had to head south again. I had to go there on the longest of the interior tracks, the Sprengisandur route. I toyed with the idea of skipping this part altogether, because Iceland isn't that large and going along the ring road would have been just about 200 additional miles. Given the slow speed that you have to go on the inland tracks, I might have even arrived earlier. But actually that hadn't been a choice anyway, since my travel agency had booked me into Versalir that night, which is known as Icelands most remote farm and lies about three quarters down the Sprengisandur track. So to get there, I had to drive down the 4x4 track.
To my surprise, it didn't bother me much. I guess that's partly because I knew what to expect. On the way up, I had expecting interesting sights and overwhelming landscapes. Which weren't there. And I did think that driving 4x4 would be enjoyable. Which it wasn't.
But now, especially since all travel guides had the Sprenginsandur track down as'mostly dull', I didn't expect much anyway. So just sit down in the car and roll away the miles. No problem.
There was an attraction after the first two hours drive. The Aldeyarfoss waterfall. Maybe not one of the worlds ten most beautiful waterfalls, probably not even among Icelands ten most beautiful waterfalls, but in an otherwise dull scenery, it's a welcome diversion. And with all those grey basalt columns, it does look strange.
So after the waterfall, it was another two hours drive until things got interesting again. The road ended at a river. And continued on the other side.
My first river crossing in a car. Naturally I was worried. I had never done that before. My car rental contract was very specific that damages that happen during river crossings are not insured. The river had glacial water, so it was muddy brown and there was no way of seeing how deep it was and how many rocks it carried.
When I was on the bus tour to Askja, there were two river crossing (which were slightly easier) and I watched how they did it. Basically you don't go the direct route, but you drive downstream to about the middle of the stream, then turn upstream to drive out. I had read all the special sections in the guidebooks that explained what to do and what to avoid.
So I knew what to do. I waited.
After about half an hour someone arrived from the other side. They stopped, got out of their car, walked up and down the river bank and tried to figure out a plausible path. I had done the same from my side, but didn't see anything convincing. So we stood there for another 20 minutes on opposite banks, looking confused. Then they went back into their car, drove into the river and came out on my side.
So I memorized the path they had taken, started my car and drove into the river. Went in fine, got to the middle, turned upstream, still reversing their path and didn't move forward. Unfortunatly rivers aren't symmetrical, and their bank was steeper than mine. So they could get in on their side and out on mine, but I could get in on my side, but not out where they came in.
The car stuck in the river, about two feet deep in water, the river almost up to my car window and I can't move forward. That's not a good moment to find out that the interior of the car is not waterproof and the water is starting to rise in the car.
I'm near panicking. I'm just getting very aware that I'm in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a river, stuck in a car I'll have to pay for if I can't get it out again.
I don't know how long it actually took, I guess not more than 30 seconds all in all, but that were some of the worst moments I had for years.
The only good thing about that all is that the motor kept running. Once the motor starts stops, there's no chance at all of getting it running again. Since I can't go forward, I go into reverse and luckily, very luckily I manage to get out again. Not quite back to the river bank, but to a'sandbank' close to it.
So I stop the car, open the doors and let the water run out. I sit back an worry. I feel fairly lucky that I came out of this and I'm not really willing to push my luck and try again. But then, there aren't many alternatives. So I wait. A short time later a car arives from'my side' of the river, seems to wonder a bit about me standing on the sandbank and then drives through, getting out about ten yards higher upstream than where I tried. So I follow his route and this time get out on the other side without any problems.
I drive on. Soon, some warning light comes up on the dashboard. Engine trouble. But the engine keeps running. I stop and take a look at the motor. Not surprisingly, it's fairly wet at some places. I wipe off the most of it and drive on. I hope the motor will dry off when it gets warmer and the light will go off again.
The engine runs as long as I step on the gas pedal, but once I let it go idle, it stops almost immediatly. So I can switch gears if I am fast enough, but I can't just step on the clutch and let the car roll without the engine stopping. I don't mind too much, uphill it's no problem, since I have to accelerate anyway, and downhill I just let the engine die and release the clutch when I'm at the lowest point. The speed the car has is sufficient to restart the engine again. Inconvenient, but managable.
I drive like that for 10 miles or so. Then I get to a downhill bit that's a bit steeper than the previous ones, so it's not straight, but goes down in a sort of serpentine. I go into neutral gear, the engine stops and I just roll down. Since the car speeds up a bit, I hit the brakes. The car doesn't slow down.
I hit the brakes much harder and also use the handbrake. The car stops. The power brakes work only while the engine is running (and a couple of seconds after that). Once the engine has stopped, you have to brake a lot harder. Not a comforting thought.
So for the rest of the day (actually most of the rest of the week) I don't go in neutral gear anymore (or press the clutch longer than necessary for changing gears) and just brake and change to lower gears when I have to slow down. No fun to drive that way.
Fortunatly the other two rivers are a bit easier to drive through.
Somehow I make it to the Versalir farm. I have dinner and go to my room, reflect on the day, fall in a gloomy mood and go to sleep.
Next day the engine hardly starts and still dies when it is put in idle. Originally my travel schedule says to drive via Landmannalaugar (which is along another interior 4x4 track) to my next guest house, but I don't want to take this car along tracks anymore, so I ask for the shortest track toward an asphalt road and the nearest car repair.
Finally I arrive at Hella, the little