This short article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK)
“See that hut?” states my guide, Dagný Björg Stefánsdóttir. “That’s one of the most haunted locations in Iceland.” I can think it. The Hvítárnes mountain hut– the only structure in sight– looks simple enough: a modest corrugated-iron structure in the center range, with white walls and a red roofing. Its environments, deep in the Icelandic Highlands, are so wild and fascinating they might thaw the creativity of the most hard-bitten sceptic.
It’s June, and the black volcanic earth sprouts green with summer season yard, however there’s a bitter chill in the air, blown in from the face of the Langjökull glacier: a terrific white tongue that lolls in between the dark hills of the horizon as if awaiting the wind to bring a taste of any trespassers that venture into its domain. Sunlight shines in intense filaments on the mountaintops, capturing the drifts of snow that abide here even in summer, spotted throughout the black rock like the stripes on a zebra’s back.
I will not be getting a tan, however the warmer weather condition has actually melted the worst of the snow and ice, laying the nation’s barren interior open for expedition. An upland location covering more than 16,000 sq miles, the Highlands comprise some 40% of Iceland’s overall landmass. I’ve come here to immerse myself in a landscape that’s blocked by extreme weather condition for the majority of the year, and to find how the often-hostile environment has actually led Icelanders to develop an abundant creative landscape, where nature, reality and folklore link.
Dagný and I get in the hut, which is the earliest of its kind in Iceland– it was integrated in 1930 by the Iceland Touring Association to offer shelter to those tired wayfarers brave enough to permeate this far into the nation’s interior. In spite of its age, the hut is well preserved, with a totally equipped cooking area, racks stacked with books and parlor game, and bed rooms with pine bunk beds.
Italian explorer, Giancarlo Gianazza, invested well over a years looking for the Holy Grail in the mountainous Icelandic highlands, persuaded that he ‘d translated hints to its place in Dante’s Divine Comedy.
Photo by Jonathan Stokes
Stefánsson drives travelers around on trips of the Icelandic highlands.
Picture by Jonathan Stokes
“As quickly as it was developed, they felt an existence here,” Dagný states. “To this day, individuals hear the rattling of pots and pans, and see the type of a woman worn grey.” Dagný communicates the regional legend: that the hut was developed near to a deserted farm, which had actually when been home to a girl whose fan drowned her in the river after she fell pregnant. “Her ghost returns to retaliate on guys who remain in the hut,” states Dagný. “She kicks them out of bed in the night.”
I browse the hut’s visitor book,
