07-14-2026 A Day Trip from Akureyri, Iceland Part 2 the Hverir geothermal field

The trail I never managed at Dimmuborgir

Our second stop was the Dimmuborgir Lava Field near Lake Mývatn, a strange maze of lava pillars, arches and caves created when molten lava flowed across wet ground more than 2,000 years ago. Icelandic folklore has filled the formations with trolls, including a pair known as the Kissing Trolls.

The rain which held off for the first part of our day started in earnest as we traveled to our next stop

It was raining, but I thought I could manage with just my walking sticks. Instead, I had one of those humbling moments. My left hip cramped, my left leg simply refused to cooperate, and I couldn't take another step. I didn't fall, but I knew it was time to give in and head back to the bus.

A familiar volcanic landscape at Lava Beds in Oregon

We missed the walk among the remarkable volcanic formations that local legend calls trolls turned to stone. Looking at them from a distance, they reminded me so much of the lava landscapes around Lava Beds National Monument back home in Oregon. Some of the youngest flows at Lava Beds are only about 1,000 years old, a reminder that the volcanic landscapes I know from home are part of a much more recent story than these formations in Iceland.

Bjarnarflag Lake

Back on the highway, we continued toward our next stop for the day. On the way, however, beside the road, an astonishing pool of milky turquoise appeared against the dark volcanic earth. Instantly I was carried back to the milky blue-green waters of Boya Lake in the Yukon so many years ago.

This was Bjarnarflag, colored an almost impossible blue by silica-rich geothermal water. Beautiful as it was, it also served notice that the quiet landscape around the lake was about to change.

The landscape changes as we approach the rift zone

Ahead of us, the land rose and opened into the active rift zone where the North American and Eurasian plates are slowly pulling apart. Our guide pointed out the place where we crossed from the North American Plate onto the Eurasian Plate. I managed a quick photo through the bus window by pressing my phone against the glass to eliminate the reflections. I later learned that not far off the road from where we traveled, there is a trail that crosses the actual rift.  I would have liked to stand on the edge of two continents.  

The American plater on the left of the notch and the Eurasion plate on the right

We were not simply crossing another Icelandic mountain pass. We were traveling through a place where the Earth's crust is being stretched, fractured, heated and continually remade.

Then we came over the divide, and the Hverir geothermal field appeared below us.

First view of the geothermal field

Nothing in the soft beauty of Lake Mývatn had prepared me for that first view, a wild landscape of orange, red, black and white, barren and steaming. 

Suddenly we were looking at something that reminded me of Yellowstone or the bubbling mud pots near Mount Lassen, just minutes after leaving a world of gentle blues and greens. The landscapes of Iceland change so abruptly that they continually take my breath away.

Of course, my soil scientist's brain never really takes a vacation. I kept trying to imagine doing soil survey here. The thought was equal parts fascinating and completely insane.

The number of tour buses lined up in the parking lot was overwhelming. People looked like tiny stick figures crawling across the distant hills, snaking along the marked pathways. And then there it was...that unmistakable smell of sulfur that Mo despises and I have always loved at hot springs.

Our guide called out, "Twenty-five minutes. Don't walk on the mud or it will ruin your shoes."

I desperately wanted to follow the trail toward the steaming fumaroles, but Mo, with her usual good judgment, slowed me down.

"No. Don't do it."

She was right. We watched plenty of people return with that sticky gray clay plastered over their shoes.

Towering above it all was the massive flat-topped Námafjall, known to Icelanders as "Broad Shoulders." Its broad summit is another reminder of the tremendous volcanic forces that have shaped this restless landscape.

The wind kept the midges away

For once, my body wasn't arguing with me. I walked comfortably, took my photographs, breathed deeply of the sulfur-laden air, and realized I was ready for what I knew would be the highlight of the day.

Goðafoss awaited.

After one last slow wander among the steam vents and bubbling earth, we made our way back to the bus.