My First Iceland trek for Macmillan Cancer Support in 2001.

So, there we were ready, packed and one hundred percent panic stricken. I had bought my kit and hoped it would do the job, keeping me warm and dry for the coming week. The kit consisted of a warm sleeping bag, foam roll mat, waterproofs and a small rucksack for day use. My five Macmillan T shirts came a few days before I left, so I packed them along with the things that had already been packed and waiting in the corner for at least a month.

I was so nervous the day that I left for the airport. It was a mixture of excitement and pure “get me out of here”. I had only flown a couple of times before and felt a little guilty about leaving Martin in charge of the family for the 9 days that I would be away. Rachel my youngest had come to the airport to wave me off with her father. She was going to summer camp later that day, so she too was excited. This way she wouldn't miss me as much and Martin could get on with his work. Our older children were 15 and 16 and Laura had an import date that week too, the release of her GCSE results.

At Heathrow we all began gathering in terminal 2 waiting for Iceland air to open their desks. The Discover Adventure guides and a Macmillan representative were waiting for us with airline tickets and name badges.  There were a mixture of sorts among the participants, some very young, a large number around my own age and quite a few older team members. I knew from the list of names that two thirds of those who had made the final commitment were female. As we began to get to know each other it was obvious that it was going to be one of the most interesting and fun weeks of my life.

Having checked the weather forecast only a few days before I was troubled to learn that there was a deep depression right over Iceland with wind and rain still forecast for most of the coming week. On arriving in Reykjavik our female pilot fought the on coming wind with one wing dipped until the plane had almost touched down. We later learnt that the previous week’s weather had bought the worst weather and flooding that Iceland had received in forty years.

I had made the mistake of putting my things in a rucksack with a roll mat strapped precariously on the side, this having fallen off during the flight. I waited for a while to see if it turned up while the Discover adventure team waited for our tents. It was therefore fairly disconcerting to discover that the said tents were still at Heathrow and waiting to come on a later flight!

Having battled our way to the waiting coaches we put our bags on board along with my reunited roll mat and set off for our firsts night “treat” of a in a hotel. Once we arrived at the Cabin hotel you could understand why it had been given the name. The rooms being no bigger than a Brittany ferry berth, but it was home for the night and I was looking forward to getting to know my tent partner, Annette better and enjoy supper with the 60 other team members.

The banter began, as we eat our evening meal. I seem to have got myself on the naughty table, I don’t know how that happens but if often does. We had just enjoyed a first course of fish soup and fish for our main when a lovely scoop of white ice cream was put before us. Those on the adjacent table were anxious to receive theirs and asks what it was. It’s amazing what the power of suggestion does as upon our calling it “fish” ice cream we received a great many extra bowls from our friends not wishing to try this new delicacy, it was in fact only coconut flavoured ice cream.

It is the custom to ether have a briefing after dinner on the first evening or early the next morning before leaving for the trek it’s self. As we had arrived that afternoon and our start was set to be an early one, we gather upstairs after dinner for the powwow. Here the daily trekking is explained and detailed of how not to get lost while going off for a wee is given the importance that it requires. We had a warning from the doctor of the consequences of not drinking enough during the day, I not sure what country he thought we were in as we were always permanently wet that week anyway. I think most of us thought the idea of burning our used toilet paper was going to be amusing and not washing ones hair seemed to trouble others, but the funniest things were to happen on the trek.

So we were off early the next morning, ready for our adventure and hoping the weather would be kind to us.

After a few hours of twisting roads along the coast the coach turned into the interior we finally saw Mt Hekla in the distance. The track was about as rutted and difficult as you would care to take a 4x4 let alone a large 56 seater coach fully loaded with people, tents a and bags. But the Icelandic’s don’t seem to be bothered by difficult terrain or dangerous conditions. We finally stopped at what appeared to be a car park and had lunch. Here we meet our Icelandic guides for the first time, two tall young men and a pretty girl. The rain was keeping off and we couldn't wait to get walking, even if this was just a warm up. Three hours of trekking around the volcano area to discover the Lava –flows resulting from the previous year’s eruption. Mt Hekla regularly erupts and spews its molten rock debris over the black and eerie slopes. After a while we came to an area where the track ended and the slope opened out into a rocky mass of over large pieces of pumices. Here steam was venting out of the snow covered rock, an amazing thing to see. The cloud was low and mixed with the steam rising from the vents. Huddled around we waited in the rain for everyone to catch up before going back down again. Little did we know this was how things were to be for the rest of the week?

Our coach was still waiting in the parking area when we returned, it seemed a little strange for it to be there still as if the trek had began but not properly. The coach bumped frantically down the couple of miles of narrow tracks to the road where it had turned off and forded a fairly wide river. Then on a few miles down another track until we came to our camp site set between a few grassy hills and a wide fast flowing river. We unpacked the coach as the driver was now eager to leave and were briefed on the dos and don't s  of how to put a tent up in a gale force wind and with the rain lashing down horizontally. It appeared that you needed between 6 and 8 of us to complete this tasks and we had a few chuckles until the weather turned once again into a nightmare a few days later.

Food is of great importance on a trek like this, it seems as though most of the men only have to lift a finger and they are anxious to know where the trekker bars are kept. Our food was cooked buy a team of Icelandic caterers who normally assisted film crews filming science fiction scenes of Mars or the moon. Our meals were always collected by us in a long queue on highly coloured recycled plastic trays indented with little dish shaped areas that collected the rain along with the food. We would make quickly then for the large tents, where we found sanctuary with our fellow participants. There was a large smattering of hardy Scottish soles and an equal amount of Irish. So a lot of hard drinking and singing was done by both in competing tents as an after dinner event. I would stay for a while joining in with the singing and then head off once again into the hills to explore on my own. It was at this time in the evening on the first night when I realised just how cold and wet I was. I was going down with a bad cold and my only dry clothes were my nightclothes. I sneaked back to my tent, to snuggle up in my warm sleeping bag only to find Annette had the same idea.

The next day was dull and misty with low laying cloud, but it wasn't pouring down with rain to start with. I had got up early for a short run and had returned to see a long queue forming at the toilet, there was only one connivance and we soon learnt to either get up early or go for a convenient walk. After packing up the tents and washing up seventy odd plates and cups we began walking. A little way along the trail we stopped in an open grassy area to do some warm up exercises. I have never seen the point in this arduous and tiresome task, either you are ready to go walking for the day or your not. So being the rebellious individual that I am I would spend the time taking photo’s of the scenery or sketching and often trying to avoid the lens of the Macmillan Video camera.

The scenery here is breathtakingly beautiful when the sun is shining as the lake reflects the blue of the sky and the greens of the surrounding slopes and mountains. The route went across a high plateau towards the lava fields of Domadalshraun. On the way we were pleased to see our crew had made it to our lunch spot and having put up a tent they greeted us with hot soup, a welcome sight as it was by now raining hard very windy. In the afternoon we were spilt into three walking groups of different speeds but to be honest it is not a good idea to always be in the first group as you only have a lot of waiting while others catch up and as you are first into camp it’s down to these hardy beings to put up tents and help around camp. It is always much more satisfying to mix up who you walk with and get to know everyone in the group.

In spite of the rain we had an amazing afternoon clambering through volcanic gullies and tiny cannons, which our guides had told us would fill with snow in the winter. Here was where a favourite spot for those who enjoyed the local sport of driving a monster 4x4 jeep across the snowy wilderness was played out. It seemed quite madness to us but we soon discovered that the Icelandic people have some crazy ideas of what is fun!

The landscape was ever changing, from the green and pleasant Lakeland of the morning to fantastic multi coloured towering cliffs and hills of Landmannalauger.  Apparently it was here that many science fiction films had been conceived and alien monsters had rampaged across this bleak landscape. We didn't find any monsters but there was a definite feeling of foreboding in that valley and even the locals believed that little people lived under these hills an should be respected at all cost.

Local superstitions are quite amazing and mostly about the weather which seems quite an obvious choose as they have an awful lot of the stuff! I found some of them quite fun this being a random selection. If someone throws away a dead mouse the wind will soon start to blow in that direction. Or if cows lick trees you can expect rain. Well we didn't see any cows or trees for that matter, but we did have an awful lot of rain.

There are the more historical ones too, such as the guardian spirits of Iceland, depicted in the seal of Iceland. The story went that a magician was sent by the king of Denmark. After having swam to Iceland in the form of a whale and when he reached the coast he saw that all the hills and mountains were full of spirits large and small. When he came to the east coast, a huge dragon approached him, accompanied by reptiles, worms and lizards. After he had swum north he was approached by a bird so huge that its wings touched the mountains on either side of the valley. The bird was accompanied by many other birds of different sizes. He went west and south where a bull waded into the sea and made loud noises. The bull was accompanied by a large number of spirits .Finally he went south to the smoke peninsula, he wanted to take land near there but was approached by a huge whose head was higher than the mountains and carried a large iron staff and was accompanied by other giants. After going east along the coast he could find no landing place and returned to the king stating that the land could not be taken.

Many of the names of the mountains and beaches reflect the folk law and there is usually a story to go with them such as this one that I was told: There was once troll wife who intended to wade from Norway to Iceland, she learned that there were deep channels

En route but there was a narrow channel in the middle of the ocean that was so deep that her head would get wet. She set out and came to the channel that she feared the most. She tried to hold on to a ship but slipped and fell into the channel and drowned. Her body was washed ashore on Red Beach and the legend ends that it was so big that a man on horse back could not reach with his whip up to her bent knee as she lay dead on the beach.

There were lots of tales that week of Huldufolk or the hidden people. These are the little elves and fairies who are so important to the locals that they even alter building projects to prevent damaging the rocks where they are believed to live. In Icelandic folk law one should never throw stones because they may hit the Huldufolk.  Even the president thought that these small folk had probably only been invented to swell the population numbers.

Well we had arrived in the beautiful rhyolite hills of Landmannalaugar. This rock although volcanic in origin is rather like granite in its appearance. It was a very beautiful place. A wild open valley of pebbled streams and lakes, surrounded by rolling wild hills of gold and silver rock banded with streams of colour. After our evening meal and the usual washing up duties of seventy odd plates, I set off to discover the valley by myself. I love this time of day. It’s not that I'm a party pooper, I just need the peace of the evening and the chance to discover alone the details of the plant life and a sneak preview of what’s in store the following day.

I was amazed by the beautiful light at almost midnight as I was still able to take good photographs at this time. When I returned the rest of the group were all in the hot pools. These are a natural pools and are free to those who reach this sport on there travels, and at the time were the only warm place in Iceland. The hot water travels out from under the volcanic rock and mixes with the cold melt water coming down the valley from the icecaps. By the time it reaches the far side of the pool it’s about bath temperature. Around the pools are many wild flowers, including extensive carpets of Arctic bog cotton flowers and the area is inhabited by numerous small birds feeding on the rich insect life that the area supports.

I had my short but sweet dip and tried not to get my hair wet as it goes rather like wire wool as it was I smelt of sulphur from head to toe and I had to last the rest of the week like that. Luckily it’s the only place on the trek that is a proper camp site with a shower! By this time the wind was getting up again and I could here mumbles in the tents as to what our fate would be the following day. We had been briefed earlier in the evening and giving the weather prospects and tomorrows route across the icecap. It didn't bode well. Heavy rain with gale force winds were to be expected and high up on the icecaps the rain would fall as snow with obvious white-outs. Not good trekking weather especially as most of the group were first timers. The rumour drifted around though the nylon encampment until it was of epic proportions. Scenes of people being dragged throw the snows on terrible white conditions holding disparately to a fragile length of narrow climber’s rope! They nervously asked me if this would be the case and when I replied no they all went to sleep and left me watching over there welfare. I really wasn't quite sure why I must have just said it with confidence.

I was awoken to the sound of a mighty steam train tearing through the valley. It appeared to be about ten miles away and take sometime to arrive. And arrive it did, hitting the ten at what seemed about a hundred miles an hour. After the first icy blast had quelled I dragged myself out of the tent and met one of the Discover Adventure guides doing the same. It was of course light as it is most of the night but the sky was dark and heavy. We quickly reinforced the tent sides with more large stones and hurried back inside. Surprisingly, it being four in the morning and having a big day ahead it was strange to see the Icelandic guides making for their bed in the all-weather vehicle. They had spent the night drinking the local brew Brennivin or Benaline as we came to know it. No-one liked it as it apparently tastes and looks like strong cough mixture. The hot pools having been the warmest place to spend the night they had stayed there having quite a sign song. I quickly popped to the toilet before the next onslaught of wind and rain passing another camps destroyed camp. All their tents having been flattened by the wind. The wind and rain kept up most of the night and in the morning we learnt our fate.

After a brief meeting it was decided that we would not be taken onto the icecap kicking and dragging. It was to be a morning trudge in the pouring rain up to the start of the icecap and back before taking the tents down and going by coach to our evening’s camp. Somehow the coach was to reach us in this remote area. We had tried to dry some of our clothes off on the fire the evening before and realised this had been a fruitless exercise although it was nice to be dry for breakfast.

Having walked until lunchtime and got quite socked through once again (it doesn't seem to matter how good your waterproof our in Iceland you still get wet) we took the tents down and packed up the vehicles. We drove over the mountains for about 6 hours before coming to a river crossing. It was apparently the only problem keeping us from our camp and they tried everything possible to get us there.

Some of the girls had decided to travel in the other vehicle with monster sized wheels. This had arrived before us and was making its way across the flow of water. As the week had gone by the rivers had become fuller and were now covering most of the valley floors. Only the week before a number of bridges and roads had been washed away in Iceland and the conditions were pretty bad by all accounts even for the hardy Icelandic’s,

Our coach came to a sudden stop in the middle of the ragging water and we watched the alarming scene as the other vehicle began to move down the river against its will. Our two Icelandic guides who we were told accounted for most of Iceland’s mountain rescue team, donned their waterproofs and waded into the freezing water.  Carrying the girls onto a small pebble island and dumping them into a large bivi shelter the two men completed their rescue mission and returned to try to save the trailer containing all our bags before it was washed away. In the silence of the coach a murmured rumour was passed around like a Chinese whisper. The other participants had cooked up an idea that we were to be dragged through the water attached to ropes, probably kicking and screaming again. I don’t know where this bunch got their wild ideas from but fortunately it was easy for me to persuade them that this was not to be once again. 

The coach lurched forward, backed up and turned around leaving the others to their fate. We waved Farewell both to our friends and the stranded belongs. A couple of hours later we reached a hilltop where we stopped to wait for the others. Amazingly sandwiches appeared from nowhere and the hungry travellers devalued them. Needing the toilet and there appearing to be a useful and unexpected facility at the top of the parking area, I began to walk towards it. I was meet by numerous calls of “don’t do it Pam”. I opened the door and looked into the hole that formed the lavatory seat, the view was quite breath taking as one could look down into the abyss, a good five hundred feet below!  There were sudden cheers outside as the other vehicle arrived along with our trailer, now rather bashed.

We finally arrived weary and hungry at a hostel on the coast. It was about one in the morning and we could get warm and dry but it appeared that my sleeping bag had been lost in the river. I wasn't surprised and the kindly lent me a spare, it turned out in the morning that someone had found mine and gone off to bed in it. I was very pleased and ready for the next challenge. They had let us go to bed hungry either and had made soup and bread for those how could stay away from the little warm bunks for long enough to consume it.

Well the weather looked a little better in the morning and we were safe and dry so why not send us back out there!  So we started walking the other way back towards the coastal icecap near Skogarfoss waterfalls. This should have been our finishing line, the route over the Fimmvorouhals pass between the Eyjafallajokull and Myrdalsjokull icecaps.  They were very beautiful but it was obvious that we would not make it over the ice as the wind and rain returned so they took us by coach to Porsmork which had been on our route and we spent a further three days walking from there. There was a lovely camp site here and ever a hut which sold beer! Porsmork was a beautiful spot hidden from the rest of the world by encircling glaciers and mountain wilderness. There was one other remarkable thing about the place it had trees, well bushes. There is an old saying in Iceland “if you are lost just stand up and you will probably see your way”. In other words you must have been sitting down in the first place as there are no trees or bushes bigger than a man in the mountains as the wind blows everything over. Porsmork meaning Thor’s wood, is a series of highland valleys watered by glacial steams and covered in stunted willow and birch woodland. The area is abundant with wild flowers and some of us even saw a whisper of the allusive Aurora Borealis or Northern Lights, but alas it wasn't me as I was tucked up in my sleeping bag oblivious to it all and in the morning we suggested that those who had seen it had probably stopped up too late drinking and imagined all anyway.

We spent three happy days climbing up mountains in the pouring rain, peering down into the abyss of the bluest crevasses and enjoying barbecued lamb for dinner. We had some laughs too with washing up of all things. I had been enjoying the washing up and today it being my birthday the guides had sung me a birthday greeting in both English and Icelandic. As they serenaded me they enquired why I did let some else do it on my birthday and was surprised when I replied that it was the only time when I could get my hands warm so I wasn't relinquishing the duty that easy. We had some laughs watching them hang the tea towels out to dry in the rain and yet the rain kept coming.

It was finally the last day and we were a team. We had climbed mountains together and crossed ragging rivers, shared tents and shared memories and now it was nearly over. After a last photo together at the final glacier and a dash for the showers back at the Cabin Hotel we enjoyed our final celebration meal and T-shirt award ceremony. We had one final day in Iceland to see this beautiful country and this I spent with Annette doing the Golden Circle which includes the Gullfoss, the Geysir area and Pingvellir national park. All quite dramatic and beautiful in the now clearing sky. There was only one thing left to do to complete a trip to Iceland, a late night dip at the Blue Lagoon.