After three-days beseeching Njord, the Norse god of wind, to cease his mischief, last Monday afternoon I finally found myself striding across basalt and burnt moss towards Iceland’s newest volcano eruption.
Drawing me forward was a pinkish halo in the sky, its light silhouetting the smooth surrounding hills created by eruptions past. Maybe a thousand people were on the trail. I saw cyclists on fat-tyred bikes, small children, a guy on crutches, and two besuited Jehovah’s Witnesses.
The fissure at a hill known as Litli-Hrútur (Little Ram) began spewing lava on July 10. Within 24 hours, Icelandic authorities had opened a footpath on which tourists could trek to see the eruption.
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