Exploring The Forests Of Lagarfljót
"We take off from Reykjavík in the midst of a dour, spitting dawn. As the small propellor plane races down the runway and lurches away from the ground, the familiar colourful rooftops of the city and the graceful, snowy curve of Mount Esja vanish quickly beneath a carpet of clouds. The grey-white murk outside the window is punctuated occasionally by glowing patches of soft, pastel pink sunlight, until we finally emerge above the weather into a bright morning sky.
During the smooth 45 minute flight to the eastern town of Egilsstaðir, we’re teased by glimpses of the highlands far below—an endless, textured tundra, free from human interruption, sometimes powdered by white snow that catches the relief of the ridges, hills, frozen pools and lava fields.
Soon, the glossy ice plains and young black lava of the frigid wasteland give way to older sedentary grays and browns. The streams thaw from frosted white strands into running rivulets, combining into larger torrents that meet in lakes where swirls of silty beige mingle with currents of vivid blue meltwater. Squares of farmland appear, carved out of the burnished copper landscape. On Iceland’s east coast, it’s the very end of autumn."