I read the remaining pages of the book with morning coffee.
Quite good book.
It rains but lighter air already approaches from the sea. The warden sends me off with good wishes. The short cut to road junction makes feet wet right away and cleans the shoes. Blueberries are ripe here. On my left appears a rainbow. The weather maker cannot decide what weather to make. Sun already was, cloudy it was, rain was. Let’s make it all at the same time now.
At first there is a jeep track. All mountains are visible for a change. The road goes up, in a direction where the mountain range is like a dark wall. By the bridge the jeep is left behind. The trail is here clear to see and there are plenty of trail markers. I recognize the pass from a picture and it is pretty obvious where to approach it. Loðmundafjörður stays lower and lower, on its surface play sunrays. All around are mountains with diverse forms. Clearly the oldest part of Iceland, here it has been tested how to make a mountain.
Unusually warm with snow visible ahead. This I have already realized that Icelandic weather gods like to test tourists. When a person despite many days of rain still wants to go outside then he or she gets sunshine, nice view or some other treat.
Before the pass is a patch of snow and on the other side mostly rocks. Here one probably could lose the way if it wasn’t for such a big amount of yellow and red sticks. Ahead is the sea and Bakkagerði and with good binoculars I would see my car. Going down still takes time. Next to the trail is the church of elves. Soon on the right are pink, behind me green and on the left dark brown mountains. In the grass live birds who quietly wait until the hiker is next to them in order to then suddenly fly away with a squawk.
When I reach the gravel road then I don’t go for the car but turn into grass again. The plan is to return to the beginning via Stórurði. First I circle in a farm yard where the sign points for the trail. It has to be a jeep track that’s not on gps. The track I find ends behind the stable in a ditch. No people to be seen. The sheep don’t say anything. Try a faint track until I meet the road.
The trails I’ve chosen to walk up to Stórurð and down from the other side are together more than 20 kilometers so I have to walk some of these kilometers today and in the process find a campsite outside the view of farms. I find a place next to a river in sheep’s restaurant opposite the mountain with sharp teeth. Sun warms nicely, I eat and read. Finish the book I had with me. A sheep with horns materializes, then another, without horns. A couple. They walk into sunset.
With the sun dropping behind the mountain the air temperature also drops so I close myself into sleeping bag for writing my memoirs.