Walking Iceland Day 4 – The God of Chips

I pray to the potato chip gods above as I shove another handful of chips into my mouth. Trying, hoping really, that I can calorically jar my legs back into functioning and allow me to finish this climb from the verdant Icelandic lowlands up to the barren highlands.

When I planned out the mileage for this hike I knew that 15 mile days was at the upper end of my physical fitness and now, four days in, the fatigue in my legs is well on its way to making itself known. But beneath that soreness is one of the things that I love specifically about backpacking.  That so often the only way out is through. Whereas a bad day at the gym can easily be cut short, having a trail-side meltdown doesn’t get you any closer to being back at your car. Or, as is my present situation, to the southern coast of Iceland. In fact, if I were to bail on this project right now I’d still need to hike 45 miles back to Akureyri. And then I’d still be on the wrong side of the country for my flight home next month. It’s neither a practical option nor one I am close to considering. No, what I need are potato chips, a protein bar, and some water before I pull up my big person hiker pants and get to huffing it up this hill.

My calves burn, my hamstrings ache, and I continue walking uphill, forever onward. I am a small ant crawling across the great face of this planet, eyes on the ground, counting my little ant steps. Then, seemingly all at once the riotously green valley I have hiked through over the last two days vanishes into a monochromatic moonscape. There is literally nothing but rocks and dirt and low-slung clouds as far as the eye can see.

Then, comes the wind.

Rolling across the ground, silent without trees or even grass to break its path. Pushing into me in great gusts of flung sand. And somehow, despite the vastness, the world shrinks in on itself. To a dark undulating moon-scape capped with low flat clouds. Across and beneath I tread on my little patch of earth. My feet hurt, and my legs are tired, but I have committed myself to finding my way across this country which has captivated me for years. So I keep walking; after all, the only way out is through.