Standing at the edge of Seltún's geothermal field, watching
steam rise into the crystalline October air, I found myself reflecting on how
immensely complex Iceland's landscape truly is. Here, in this remote corner of
the North Atlantic, the earth’s inner workings are on full display. The steam
vents and bubbling pools before me were striking features of the land, they
felt like windows into the planet's soul, a reminder of similar moments I’d
experienced in other volcanic regions. But here, the meeting of fire and ice
created something uniquely compelling, a story told in steam and frost that
revealed the essence of our planet's character.
You see, Iceland is a place where the Earth's tectonic plates
are spreading apart along the Mid-Atlantic Ridge at a rate of about 2
centimetres per year, creating a land of extraordinary geological activity.
Volcanoes, geysers, and geothermal fields shape the terrain, while glaciers and
ice caps carve their way through ancient rock. Beneath it all, Iceland sits
above a vast magma reservoir, a plume of molten rock rising from deep within
the Earth. This vast mantle plume of molten rock fuels the island’s dramatic
volcanic activity and testifies to the immense and untamed energy that shapes
this extraordinary landscape. This delicate balance between fire and ice makes
Iceland a living laboratory of natural forces, offering a glimpse into the
processes that continually reshape our planet.
Looking at Lake Kleifarvatn was a moment of reflection.
Standing on its wind-battered shore on a chilly October day, I watched the
waves and steam interact, each movement hinting at the impermanence of what we
often think of as permanent. This lake, which can lose and regain its waters
through unseen forces beneath the surface, felt like a metaphor for the
ever-changing nature of the world. In my years of exploring landscapes shaped
by natural forces, few places have captivated this constant flux as poetically
as this shifting lake.
Even the road itself; Route 42 that commences
from Reykjavík towards the south seemed to carry its own story. Each
repaired section told a tale of the ongoing struggle between human
determination and the power of nature. It reminded me of other roads I’ve
travelled, where people persist in building pathways through some of the
planet’s most challenging landscapes. There’s something inspiring about this
persistence, about our desire to keep moving forward, even as the world shifts
beneath our feet.
Throughout my journey, I found myself drawn to the edges of
things, where steam meets cold air, where human effort meets raw nature, where
the modern world meets ancient forces. These boundaries, where contrasts
collide, often reveal the most compelling truths about our connection to the
land. It’s in these spaces that the most interesting stories seem to unfold.
Driving southward from Reykjavík, the transition from city to
wilderness felt almost theatrical in its abruptness. One moment I was
surrounded by the comforts of modern life, and the next I was in a landscape
that seemed plucked from another era. Vast fields of lava stretched endlessly,
their black surfaces softened by vivid green moss, nature’s first attempt to
reclaim this rugged terrain.
The weather along Route 42 seemed to change with every mile.
Warm air from geothermal vents collided with icy winds, creating dramatic
effects. Dense fog would suddenly appear, wrapping the land in mystery, only to
lift moments later to reveal breathtaking views of the volcanic landscape. Snow
flurries came and went, each adding a new layer to Iceland’s dynamic elements.
At Seltún, I encountered one of the most striking sights of my
journey. The steam vents released their hot breath into the crisp air, while
pools of bubbling mud churned with raw energy. The ground was painted in deep
reds, bright oranges, and yellows, creating a natural masterpiece that seemed
to shift with the changing sunlight.
The road itself was a testament to human resilience. Each
patch and repair was evidence of our ongoing effort to coexist with nature’s
power. It’s a story I’ve seen in many places, the delicate balance between
building and adapting, between our needs and the planet’s movements.
During my 10 days of exploring, I found myself captivated by
the interplay between heat and cold. On particularly crisp mornings, the steam
from geothermal vents created breathtaking displays, rising in thick columns
before being swept away by the wind. These moments, where fire and ice meet so
dramatically, seemed to capture Iceland’s essence.
Each journey revealed new details, how the light shifted, how
the wind carried different sounds, how the land seemed to breathe. These
observations reminded me of how deeply connected everything is, how every
element of nature interacts to create the world we see. On Route 42, these
connections were written in steam and stone, in ice and fire, in sound and
silence.
On my final evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the
steam in hues of pink and gold, I reflected on what this journey had taught me.
This was a place of discovery, where past and present merged in the rising
steam and shifting landscape. Yet Route 42 had its own unique way of
illuminating the intricate bond between the earth’s fiery heart and its frozen
surface. It was a journey I’d carry with me, long after the road had
disappeared behind me.
