Sunday morn we woke early to meet our friends at Litla Kaffistofan (the little coffee house) on the road out of town. After a few cups of coffee, we headed over the pass, and it started to rain something fierce. But by the time we cleared the mountain, the clouds lifted and we could watch steam rise out of the earth in patches along the hill before turning north for a quick stop at Kerið, a picturesque volcanic crater. After the requisite photo of the children, we caravanned onward to Skálholt, the original religious and farming center of Iceland. There, we burrowed through a secret tunnel below the church and stared at the bright stained-glass windows.
For lunch, we stopped to picnic at the double falls of Hjalp, feasting on sandwiches and fending off flies.
Soon we were off to Stöng to see the remnants of a Viking farmhouse where the wee ones jumped between rooms and pretended the former kitchen was their prison. Hurrying through the light rain we ducked into the awesome power station at Búrfellsvirkjun with its 1950’s style architecture and interactive museum exhibits. But more importantly, the kids loved that we were talking about dams. Or as M said, “Mom you just said the “D” word six times.”
With the rain lightening up, we explored the reconstructed Viking farmhouse at Thjóðveldisbae where B sang in the chapel and both babes piled into the sheepskin bed to snuggle.
Weary but determined we soldiered on, riding over dirt paths, bumping and skidding across rugged track. Just before the dirt road ended, we stopped in the shadow of Hekla to peer at our last waterfall of the day. I looked out at the grey sky and miles of lava rocks and then my sleepy babes. At last, it was time for dinner in Selfoss before we crossed back over the mountain and headed home.