Nero at Nyiadalur hut, 2 miles hiked
“Are you ready to go, Wyoming?” the ranger asks, having since forgotten our names and thus calling both Keith and myself as the collective Wyoming. We nod and bid goodbye to our new group of friends and fellow adventurers before following her out to the truck.
As we trundle our way south the weather begins to dissipate, snow and rain dematerializing into high wispy clouds and even the occasional break of blue sky. Beneath the truck’s tires crunch a volcanic moon-scape of barren gray. While inside the cab my uncertainty coalesces into longing for the miles we are missing, even while I know we are making a good choice and that these little patches of blue sky are nothing but a tease. Still, my heart breaks a little as the miles whizz by.
Soon, however, we are at the junction that will take us to the Landmannalauger hut, piling out of the rangers truck and we start to walk as her tires crunch away behind us and a cry of “bye, Wyoming!” bids us forward.
We walk for an hour as cars trundle and grumble past on the bumpy dirt road. Finally a french cabinet maker in his work van slows to pick us up and then drives slower than snowmelt to get us to the hut where we will camp in a field with the other hikers. Tomorrow we will set out on foot again.