I have always been attracted to Iceland for its remoteness, sparse settlements, and beautiful nature. The decision to hike across Iceland had been taking shape in my head for some time, so when I got a chance to do it this summer, I didn't hesitate.

I had less than two weeks to get ready for the journey. I had to beef up the gear, plan the route of the crossing, buy supplies, and find out as much information as possible about weather, terrain, threats and treats that I can encounter during my journey.

I set off on August 22 from Geneva, Switzerland by train to Franfurt am Main, then by plane to Keflavik International Airport and by bus to Reykjavik. I checked in to the municipal camping and started taking in the feel of Iceland, including the sad fact that grocery stores only sell beer with alcohol content of 2.1 per cent, which is embarrasingly low even by scandinavian standards.

Next day I sent a box with supplies by mail to the town of Reykjahlíth by lake Mývatn, then I dispatched another box by bus from the central bus terminal BSÍ to tourist cabin in Landmannalaugar. My plan was to carry five days worth of food for the first stretch of my journey up to lake Mývatn, resupply from the box waiting for me at the post office with another twelve days worth of food, and resupply again in Landmannalaugar with five more days of food.

I walked around Reykjavík a bit, took a swim in one of the thermal pools and got on the bus in the afternoon to Ákureyri, a town in the north of Iceland. The bus arrived at 11PM and I there was a connecting bus early in the morning that I didn't want to miss. I rolled out my sleeping matress on a school yard close to the bus terminal and spent a refreshing night there. It was the only night I slept under the open skies in Iceland, and night with best weather, too.

I went to Húsavík in the morning, and then changed buses for Kópasker. The bus to Kópasker was a small 12-seater, carrying mostly mail and parcels. I was the only passenger and the driver didn't speak English. Local folks translated my wish to him - I want to get out of the bus as soon as we'll reach the ocean - before departure. He was sort of nervous and when I got out shortly after the Núpar settlement, he was evidently relieved.

I walked to the black sand beach, put both my palms in the water, and then set off south-bound. The weather was great, sunshine, no wind, temperature around 20 degrees Celsius (70 °F). It was the only day of my journey that I could walk part of my way in a t-shirt and shorts only. I walked back on the road that I came with the bus and by the Ásbyrgi gas station I took a turn to Jökulsárgljúfur national park. I spent my first night at the Vestadulur camping ground.

Next day the sky was covered with thick clouds, it looked like I ran out of my good weather allowance. Nevertheless, nature in Jökulsárgljúfur is beautiful, I hiked along the Jokulsá a Fjöllum river canyon and reached the Dettifoss waterfall, where I spent my second night. The two-day trek from Ásbyrgi to Dettifoss is well-routed and definitely worth taking.

I went on to the Krafla volcano the next day. It was the first stretch of my journey off the roads and marked paths. There are no trees in most icelandic landscapes and one can see very far - sometimes dozens of miles ahead. One has to get used to it to be able to assess how far landscape features are and how steep are the distant hills. I reached the geothermal power plant by the Krafla volcano in the evening. There are many wells up to two kilometers deep, from which hot water is piped into central building where turbines convert heat to electricity. The power plant would be worth visiting, but I came off visiting hours. I decided to spend the night a few kilometers downstream from the power plant, by the waste-water stream.

In order to get there, I had to jump across the stream on rocks lying in the riverbed. When I was one step from the other shore, the rock under my foot flipped over and I fell back-first into the river. My backpack and clothes were totally wet, water dripped from my tent and sleeping bag. It also started raining heavily. It was a tough job to build the tent, cook my dinner and crawl into the sleeping bag under these conditions. A kind of a test of resolve and determination.

Next day I reached Reykjahlíth and picked up my parcel in the post office. First part of my journey took four days instead of planned five. I packed food for 14 days for the next leg, anyway. Then I went partly around the Mývatn lake and set up my camp on the border of lava field close to the Graenavatn settlement. The journey to the interior of Iceland had just begun.

I set off early next morning, as it was a long way to the end of today's hike - the Botni cabin. At the first river crossing I had another river-related incident. The first branch of the river was only about two meters wide, so I decided to throw my backpack over to the other side first, and then jump across. I managed to throw the backpack to the other side, but it landed on a moss-covered sand overhang which couldn't support backpack's weight and crashed into the river, followed by my backpack. I jumped immediately into the river in order to save the backpack from getting completely drenched, sacrificing my shoes to the water. Two water-related incidents in just two days made me aware of the fact that I'd have to take really good care when fording the glacier rivers of Iceland's interior.

A mere kilometer from the Botni cabin I made use of my GPS for the first time. I was in the middle of a lava field with lava towers more than three meters high and couldn't see the cabin until I was only 20 meters from it. I would heave never fount it without GPS.

The Botni cabin is one of the warden-less tourist facilities built in remote areas that are open to anybody who comes. A fee is paid in cash for using the cabin into a collect-box by the doorway. There were couple of bunk-beds in the cabin, oil stove, table and cooking utensils. Water comes from nearby river, or spring. I was glad for having found the cabin and spending night indoors after five days in a tent.

After a sound sleep at Botni I went on to the Dyngjufell cabin at the foot of Askja crater, flooded by a thermal lake. Bad weather and thick fog prevented me from running up the crater to take a swim in the Öskjuvatn lake, so I left it for the next time.

Sleeping two days in a row with a roof over my head and a hot stove next to the bed really re-vitalized me. The next day I walked by to the Vatnajökull glacier. I had planned to spend the night on a sandy plateau at the foot of the mountains, where Jokulsá a Fjöllum river is born. I was about to unpack the tent when wind picked up and I tasted my first sandstorm in Iceland. I didn't want to spend my night there so I grabbed my backpack and went on to the hills to find a more suitable overnight spot. I found a good place after a long walk near the emergency shelter Kistufell. It was a long day, I hiked more than 50 kilometers.

Next day I reached the bridge over river Skjálfandafljót, that spared me from fording its many branches a few kilometers upstream closer to the glacier. Wind had picked up again and I had to place heavy stones all around the tent to fixate it. Next morning I noticed that the main tent rod is bent into an S-shape, but other than that the tent withstood the strong wind quite well.

I found something remarkable while fording yet another river the next day. Up to this day I thought that the worst possible conditions for fording an ice-cold glacier river are temperature around zero degrees Celsius, windstorm and rain. I was thus surprised when nature pulled another trump card at the last ford before Nýidalur oasis. As I took my shoes off and entered the stream, a hailstorm began! Rushing current, opaque icy water, heavy backpack, wind, rain, and cherry-sized hails can make an experience one wouldn't forget soon.

The Nýidalur cabin was a redemption from bad weather outside. Siki the warden was a teacher that helped run the interior cabins during summer holidays. He was a great companion. We talked into early morning hours about icelandic history, people, nature, and uncertain future.

Next day the weather got better and I hiked on to get as far as possible. There was a major storm due in two days that could cross my plans easily. It was a beautiful evening that day and I saw the sun set from my tent - for the last time in many days to come.

When the storm set in, I was about 10 kilometers from abandoned lodge at Versalir. My plan was to just stop there for a short rest and go on, but at the end I was glad for having reached it. A storm in Iceland's interior is something to be experienced, in both good and bad ways. There's nothing to stop the wind so it blows with hurricane-like speeds. Heavy clouds are whizzing by a hundred meters above ground, it looks like a hi-speed movie. Ten seconds of rain, five seconds break. Next cloud. Twenty seconds rain. Then a gap between clouds. Two seconds of sunshine. Rain. Five seconds break. Rain.

When I was approaching Versalir, I hoped for an unlocked shed or a lobby where I could hide from elements. I was surprised when I grabbed the door-knob on the main entrance and the door opened. The lodge was completely abandoned, it was cold and damp inside and there was no heating. Yet it was a great shelter from the wind and raging weather outside. When I went to get water from a pond 50 meters away, the wind knocked me to the ground twice. I think my tent wouldn't survive this weather, even if I tied it to 100 kg concrete posts.

The weather got better next morning. I wasn't blown away off my way anymore so I continued. Clouds still stayed close to the ground and it was raining heavily, so I couldn't see much, but I was making a steady progress and finished the day close to the Sígalda water power plant. Next day started like the previous ended - wind and rain - but weather settled down during the day and when I reached Landmannalaugar, I even got glimpses of sunshine.

Landmannalaugar is an oasis in the south of Iceland, surrounded by beautiful landscapes and hot springs. I spent the night in the cabin there, picked up my second resupply package and then took the marked trail to Thórsmork. There were tourist cabins every 10 to 15 km on the trail, which was a pleasant change after deserted Iceland's interior. THe weather was nice in the morning and altough there was a forecast for rain during the day. I set off just lightly dressed. For once I didn't want to dress up into my raingear right from the morning, as I did on previous days. Shortly after my departure a rainstorm with strong wind arrived, but it was just 10 km to the Hrafntinnusker cabin, so I didn't really care.

There was no-one else than warden at the Hrafntinnusker cabin, a strange fellow with thick glasses, whom I found in a small attic room doing paperwork. I tried to talk to him but couldn't make him join the conversation so I went to the kitchen and made a tea. The warden arrived after a while, I tried to talk to him again and asked about weather. He replied that weather was going to be bad. Then he went away again and came back in a moment and told me: "You should go back to Landmannalaugar. You're not ready to hike in Iceland". I tried to explain to him that my drenched pants don't mean I have no raingear, but the warden was firm: "Don't tell me anything, I saw it right away. You're not ready to hike in Iceland. Last week I sent nine Englishmen back to Reykjavík. You should go there too." I saw it was impossible to change his opinion so I didn't tell him that during last two weeks I walked more than 400 km across Iceland in weather much worse than what's currently around.

I dressed up in my raingear, said goodbye to the warden and went away to the fog towards lake Alftavatn,where was another cabin. I spent a nice evening there with a young slovakian couple. They worked throughout the summer in Iceland and reserved the last week of their stay for travelling around. They confirmed to me that that summer was exceptionally warm and sunny in Iceland. It only had gotten worse about a week before my arrival and since then the weather tried to make up for Iceland's weather reputation.

Next day I reached the end of Thórsmórk trail. When I saw the Markafljót river, that I needed to cross in order to continue to Skógar on the south coast, I was shocked. There was no way I could ford that river by foot. Then I saw a signpost pointing to a bridge. I went to see it immediately. Unfortunately, there was no bridge. Just one section of a broken down bridge standing alone amidst strong currents, leading to nowhere. I went back to the cabin and asked the warden if it is possible to get to the other side somehow. He told me to wait till morning.

In the morning the warden took his tractor, I jumped on the trailer and we set off for an adrenaline ride accross the river. Glacier rivers have the least water in them in the morning, so there was less water than last evening, but I wouldn't be able to cross the river on my own anyway. When warden with the tractor left me on the other side and went away, I realized that the last stretch of my journey is in front of me and that if everything goes well I can stand on the south coast that evening. It was also the most difficult part of my journey, though. I had to climb the sadlle between two glaciers - Mýrdalsjökull and Eyjaflallajökull - that is 1100 meters high. Weather was not very favourable - low clouds, so I could expect very limited visibility up there. Fog is always bad news in the mountains and here the terrain would certainly be difficult. If the trail is not well marked, there would be no chance to cross the mountains to the other side.

I began to climb with mixed feelings. After couple of hundred vertical meters I indeed entered fog so thick that even Flying Dutchman couldn't navigate it. I was lucky though since trail marking was excellent. There were blazes every 10 - 20 meters so I was making a steady progress. Quite a change compared to Jökultungur on the way from Hrafntinnusker, where it often took me 10 minutes to find the next blaze. The weather even made a nice surprise for me. When I reached the Fimmvörthurháls pass, the skies cleared and I saw the ocean and Skógá river mouth, to where I was heading.

River Skógá starts at the pass that I came from and it found an ellegant solution to the following problem: How to descend one vertical kilometer on just 10 kilometers' run to the ocean? The solution is dozens of waterfalls, one more beautiful than the other. It was a very pleasant part of my journey and I had good weather, too.

When I reached the beach in Skógar, I washed my feet in the ocean and thus "bridged" Iceland from north to south. It took me 17 days to walk across, with 16 days walking and 1 day hiding from a storm. I walked 450 to 500 km, I don't know exactly as my GPS wasn't always turned on. I made 30 km per day on average, the longest day was over 50 km, the shortest under 20 km.

Iceland is a beautiful country and during my 17-day hike I was in close contact with the land and the elements, and I grew to like it. Iceland showed me both nice and rough sides and I got to know myself a bit more, too.