When asked why he wanted to climb Everest, George Mallory famously replied “because it is there”. Well, I’m applying the opposite of that here.
Ten or so days before I went to Iceland, a volcano started erupting, the ninth in the Sundhnúksgígar series and the twelfth since the Reykjanes Fires began four years ago. All I thought of it at the time was how inconvenient it was to close the roads I planned to use to avoid the Greater Reykjavík Area – I am not a city driver and although Reykjavík’s population is about the same size as Croydon’s, it’s a low-level earthquake-proof sprawly city far bigger than it has any right to be. So I take the south Reykjanes coast road to Hveragerði. It’s longer but it’s far less stressful.
I never imagined the volcano would still be erupting by the time I arrived, nor that it would be possible to visit it. Eight eruptions in the Sundhnúkagígar area have gone by; never before have the authorities even entertained the idea of building a path and welcoming tourists to hike out to it.
Despite the statistics not being on my side when it came to the volcano still being active ten days later (of the eight previous Sundhnúkagígar eruptions, only half of them had gone over 48 hours in duration, although one of them is a clear outlier at 54 days, with the final three coming in at 15-18 days), there was still one crater active by the time I left home. Since I spent an afternoon and night in London before going to Gatwick, that was more than 24 hours before my flight, so there was still anything to play for by the time I got off the plane the next day, but nonetheless, when I left home, visiting the volcano was still a possibility.
And it was one I’d chosen to decline.
It was Monday morning when I’d discovered there was a path to the volcano. I knew there was every chance it would stop by Saturday but I still had to prepare: add in a few extra clothes, my hiking poles, some half-decent boots, my first aid kit. But as the week wore on and I watched events unfolding, I realised that this volcano is unlike the previous eight in another way, apart from being visitable. This volcano is producing prodigious amounts of toxic gas. Reykjavik, 20-odd kilometres to the north-east, had been blanketed in vog (yep, volcanic fog) for the best part of a week, people with health conditions were advised to stay inside with the windows closed and to breathe through their noses and the Lava Show, who I’m treating as my personal expert guides to the eruption, were strongly advising that you wear a gas mask and more or less requiring that you carry a gas meter. I don’t have either of those things, don’t know where or even if I could rent them and I wouldn’t really know how to use them or what to look out for.
Mixed signals, perhaps: a path built & approved by the authorities, but dangerous amounts of toxic gas. Are you welcome there or are you not? Or are you welcome only if you’re properly equipped or when the gas levels are low? If the path was monitored at all, it would be by ICE-SAR, search & rescue volunteers. And Iceland is a small country with no obligation to expand its medical facilities to cater to two and a half million tourists a year doing things like hiking to a volcano despite expert recommendations not to.
There was also the complication that I had my Canyon Baths booking first thing on Monday morning, which meant it was best for me to camp at Husafell on Sunday night. I could squeeze in an 11km round hike on Sunday and drive all the way up to Husafell before bedtime but it pretty much ruined my plan to camp at Geysir on Saturday night to enjoy the geysers outside of tourist hours – like offices, tourists tend to operate between roughly 9am and 6pm outside Reykjavik.
If you were choosing between active volcano and quiet geysers, you might think the volcano was the obvious choice. When do you get to see a volcano erupting?? Well, for me, three years ago, almost to the day, I hiked the 14km round trip to Meradalir and sat on a hillside in the drizzle, watching a miniature newborn volcano throw lava around. I still have one of the pictures on the back of my phone and a few of them stuck up in my office. I’m not saying “seen one volcano, don’t need to see another” but I have had my once-in-a-lifetime experience and there’s no sense in facing toxic gas in total knowing ignorance to repeat it.
All this came before arrival.
The roads were re-opened within 24 hours of the eruption starting – this one is further north-west than the others, further from important infrastructure, so my plan to drive the coast road to Hveragerði was back on and the volcano was still going when I arrived. I got a glimpse of it as I crossed the peninsula and a better glimpse of it, complete with glowing lava, as I left Grindavík and approached the 2021-23 trail car parks on my way along the coast. But I resisted temptation! Having made additional plans for Sunday and deliberately removed the stuff I’d added for the hike helped. Can’t put yourself in the way of harmful gas if you’ve got something else in your timetable for that day and you don’t have your gloves or hiking poles!
Given that after those first few days, I heard nothing more of the gas and I did hear that it was actually only a couple of kilometres each way and that they’d set up a Volcano Shuttle, I dare say I could have done it perfectly fine with what I had, or paid to be shuttled if I couldn’t but I’d decided, probably a bit too early, to err on the side of safety. Sometimes you have to do that, be sensible even if it’s the boring choice. Even though hundreds – probably thousands – of people had visited perfectly safely without the gas equipment, I think I stand by my decision – just because “it is there”, it doesn’t mean you have to go there.
I Am A Polar Bear 