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Day One:
Icelandic Ponies
Norse Attack
Fjörugardurrin
Blue Lagoon

Day Two:
Black Sand Beach
Sea Kayaking
Stokkseyri
Whitewater Rafting
Skidaskalínn
NightClubs

Day Three:
Jökulsárlón
Jöklasel
Midfellsegg
Idno
Clubbing Again

Day Four:
Apótek
Back Home

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Karyn, Ellen Wright and Frank Shindle after consuming massive quanities of Black Death at the Joklasel lodge.

Top:Jim and Karyn enjoy the view at Midfellsegg

Right: Trevor Hughes

Left: Dave Dalton smacks a big drive

We ate more than humanly possible. The crew had set up some games for the group, including snow golf, sledding and glacial soccer. The group that had come up on the snowmobiles first, mounted the snowscooters again for a trip up to Midfellsegg. Our snowmobile guide cautioned us to stay on the marked trail, to avoid dangerous crevasses and potential accidents.

The snowmobile trip was great fun. We followed single file over humps and bumps, up a steep incline, and over a large icefield to a beautiful viewpoint overlooking the ravine we had drive up earlier. Dismounting at this viewpoint, known as Midfellsegg, we scrambled up shards of black rock and looked down into the clouds and mist. Off in the distance to the west, Hvannadalshnúkur, the highest peak in Iceland at 2119m, rose out of the mist on top of Öraefjökull, the ice cap covering the immense Öræfi caldera. Many photographs were taken here, and we lingered a bit before getting back on the trail down.

We met the snowcats coming up the trail, and traded places with the other group, who had not had the chance to ride the snowmobiles yet. They raced up the glacier to Midfellsegg, while we headed back to the warmth of Brenniven at Jöklasel. We chatted a bit with Ellen Wright and her buddy Frank Shindle, sucking down shots of Black Death. Time was getting short to catch our flight back to Reyjavík, and we still had to traverse the winding mountain road down the highway and then to Höbn. The Brennivín tasted good and we got a good buzz on. After all, we didn't have to do the driving!

The bus trip back to Höfn airport was uneventful. No buses went off the road, even in the low visibility, and we found that our bus driver did this trip many times during the summer. It showed. He negotiated every turn and dip in the road with a precise shift of the gears and application of the brake. In my opinion, he could have driven the road with a blindfold and made it safely. Sven again regaled us with tales of Icelandic glory and put many of the passengers to sleep after their strenuous afternoon. At the airport, he bid us a swift farewell, and we hustled aboard the plane, only forty minutes late. Luckily, we were the only passengers on this flight, having reserved every seat.

 

 

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