Þórsmörk

Little to say but that paper-writing was once again delayed by tramping around in the grand valley of Þórr (Wikipedia describes it as a ridge, but the tour guide seemed to refer to the whole valley) between the glaciers Tindfjallajökull and the infamous Eyjafjallajökull, with Mýrdalsjökull at the end of the valley.

By far the best trip so far in Iceland. Well worth the money. But, again, I will endeavor to let the picture speak for themselves.

The guides sheep dog, taking a break from herding

us in order to demonstrate the massive size

of the floodplain.

 Quicksand, where slowly melting ice has been buried

beneath the sand and gravel from the last flood.

 She works hard, rain or hail or snow.

 This glacier now property of Chechen-Hobbiton alliance.

There are snipers behind all the boulders.

Go elsewhere.

 MIS be some classy motherfuckers.

 Drinking the best water in the world.

Our intrepid 8x8 steeds.

 Evidence of the apparent "rain shadow" between

the three glaciers. But I assure you, the rest of the time

it was hailing.

 We crossed dozens of streams and little rivers, but

among those we were on foot for, this required the most

coordination.

 Göngu-Jonas, the wandering German.

Paul doing his mafioso bit.

 Climax.

Adieu.