As we climbed out of our tents that morning and gazed at the rain-laden sky, we spontaneously decided to leave our bikes behind and take a trip in the support vehicle. Although we were in Iceland with Pielow, Johanna, and Mirja, we had only seen each other at breakfast or dinner so far, so we were looking forward to spending the day together. We wanted to explore the Ásbyrgi valley more closely, and after just a few steps into the canyon, we realized we were standing in a landscape that told stories. The gorge constantly changed shape, resembling a gigantic hoofprint—supposedly, it was Sleipnir, Odin’s eight-legged horse, that touched the earth here. In the middle, a rock rose like a small island, surrounded by high walls, and at the end, a tranquil lake awaited us, so idyllic that you almost forgot how rugged Iceland usually is. Even ducklings were swimming in the clear water.
Later, we continue on to Dettifoss. Even the drive there takes us through a lunar landscape of jagged rocks and sparse vegetation, which seems utterly surreal. But nothing prepares us for the sheer force of the waterfall: masses of water thunder into the depths every second, a force of nature that almost takes our breath away. For Silke, it’s like a surge of energy: she stands there, radiant, and lets herself be swept away by the vibrant energy of the waterfall. The masses of water are so powerful that it almost looks as if horses are leaping out of them.
Our journey continues to the solfataras, a place reminiscent of a veritable witch’s kitchen. It bubbles, steams, and hisses; the air is heavy with the smell of sulfur, and everywhere the ground glows in ochre and brown hues. For Jürgen, it’s as if an entire mountain is boiling, turning its insides out. At the same moment, he recounts one of his operations: how the professor had to remove his organs to access the pancreas, located near the back, lay the organs on a table, arranged everything, healed them, and then placed them back. Just like the mountain, working with all its heat, steaming, bubbling, but ultimately remaining in its own unique equilibrium.
It’s a day brimming with energy and impressions that simultaneously exhaust and invigorate us. We make a detour to Mývatn before restocking our supplies at the supermarket and heading back. We arrive back at the campsite in pouring rain, the tents soaked through, and the cold seeping into our bones. As if that weren’t enough, the support vehicle gets a flat tire. Iceland continues to test us, yet we carry the strength of this special day within us.
