The perils of a late season trip have sprung up in somewhat unexpected ways. While the weather during the day has been amazing (Wind aside,) it has been very cold at night. The huts definitely insulate us from the chill, but they themselves bear the brunt. Case in point: this morning we once again have no water. Someone apparently turned a tap off overnight, causing the whole system to freeze. Unfortunately, this also means that the bathrooms are out of commission. Even more unfortunately, it becomes immediately clear that people haven’t put two and two together—you can’t use a flush toilet without water. Ick. Fortunately, the site has an outhouse for such eventualities, so I don’t have to resort to my emergency wag bag (i.e., packing out what I bring in). The poor wardens, however, have quite the mess to deal with.
I’m still boggled by the fact that in most huts no water treatment is needed. You just take water straight from the nearest source and drink. This means that the lack of running water this morning isn’t a hydration issue. I’m still struggling with nutrition, though. I actually skipped dinner last night – between my salmon feast when I first got to camp yesterday and snacking steadily thru the afternoon, I wasn’t really in the mood for dinner. Breakfast is always tricky for me and today is no exception. I opt to skip even my morning coffee and get out to the trail, hoping that hunger will strike me eventually.
As I leave camp, I pause to review a sign on the next hill. It helpfully explains that the glacier views we’ve been enjoying are, in fact, a tremendous threat. The glacier sits over an active volcano, and if it erupts, we are to evacuate immediately or risk catastrophic floods, lightning strikes, and other assorted volcanic dangers. The sign helpfully mentions that the wardens will send up what I think are fireworks, and we should head back the way we came to reach relative safety. Good to know!
After a few minutes, I come to the first water crossing for the day. I run into the Italians, who are retying their footwear. The stream seems fairly small, but they indicate that two of our group took unexpected ‘swims’ this morning after slipping while trying to rock-hop. They recommend that I change shoes and wade. Having just gotten on my way, I am unenthused with this plan. I spend too much time eyeballing options and settle on a path. Four steps later, I plant my left foot safely on the far bank only to feel and hear a pop from my left ankle. Uh oh…
I manage to get both (dry) feet on the ground and take a moment to assess. While there’s pain and some warmth spreading down my foot, I don’t feel any instability or ripping that would indicate an incapacitating injury. I test pushing off on my left foot – it’s pretty ugly, but managable-ish. This certainly adds an unexpected facet to today’s hike! I’m not super worried though. It’s still before 9am and I only have 7 miles to cover. Even if I have to essentially crawl, I’ll make Volcano Huts today.
I head up the first climb and it is slow, painful work. I think because I know I have all day and I’m coming to the end of the hike, I don’t feel the same urge to push myself. I take a lot of pauses, ostensibly to enjoy the view, and eventually make it to the top of the wall. I still see the Italians, and I think I can see the Chinese 5-some further ahead. I set a goal to catch up with them, largely to give me something to focus on other than my ankle.
The terrain today is largely a repeat of yesterday, with lots of lunar dust and, thankfully, mostly flat plains. The trail follows along a canyon that appears to be heading towards the ocean (I assume.) There’s still enough variation that the two groups I’m tracking periodically disappear from view.
I’m also kept company by what I think is a lava dome from a long ago eruption. I’m fascinated by delicate lip that curls out from the body. While the route doesn’t pass too close to this mountain, it’s fun watching the details emerge through out the day.
Roughly half way through the day, two things happen almost simultaneously. I bump into the back of a large group, roughly 20 people and their guide. It’s weird because they seem to come from nowhere. It’s possible that they were in Emstrur and just got an earlier start than me, but I didn’t really hear a group of their size last night. It’s also weird that I can catch them in my hobbled state. On the other hand, they seem to stop, in small clumps, approximately every 5 feet and take up the entire width of the trampled trail, making it impossible to pass. A bit frustrating after three days of largely solitary hiking.
I pass a knot of ladies and catch up to the bulk of the group at a small wall. Their guide has already scouted the path and kindly explains to me which way he recommends. He also gives me a hand at a long step, which I greatly appreciate! Most of the group had already descended and were waiting, packs off, for the others to catch up. If this is what guided tours are like on this trail, I’m extra glad to be doing it solo—even if it means that I have to cook my own meals and I don’t get a spare bag with every imaginable extra transported to the next hut every day.
The other thing I encountered is trees! Small, scrubby, straggly trees! At first, I thought they were some sort of shrub (which was also a first on this trip!) until a get a closer look at the branches and leaves. I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of birch, stunted by the conditions. It feels like a little bit of home though and I know it means I’m getting close, since I remember reading about the birch forest outside of Thorsmork.
The canyon falls away, or more exactly, the route veers off such that I can’t see it any more. Oddly, there are grooves in the soil next to the trail where small plants have taken root. It looks like very small planting furrows except 1) it’s way too late in the year for new plantings and 2) I can’t imaging getting any machinery out here to till and plant the soil along the trail. Not to mention, for what purpose?
I pass a sign and Thorsmork is within striking distance. I know the last river crossing of the trip lies ahead. This one is likely the biggest yet, so I’m anxious to catch up with the folks I know so I’m not crossing alone. I come to a birch thicket and cross a rickety bridge. I can also see the Italians surprisingly close!
I hustle to catch up and realize there’s a fairly sizable hill. They are close because they are taking their time up the slope. I am disappointed by this climb because I had convinced myself that things were all downhill today. Someday, I will learn to read a map more closely. I take my time on the climb and watch the Chinese group and the Italians appear then disappear over the rim of the hill. I can also see what I think are the German ladies slowly catching up as well. Since I’ve seemingly lost the groups ahead, I figure I can just wait for one of the groups behind to catch up. Would it be poor form to leverage the guide a second time?!?
I finally limp my way to the top of the hill and am greeted by what I assume will be the last stunning view of the journey –
Shortly after the ascent, I descend to the real river crossing. I pause to admire some sheep happily grazing and grumble at the stupid trail design that takes us up just to immediately go down. As I round a bend, I am cheered to see both the Chinese 5-some AND the Italians! They give a little cheer and a wave and I quickly pick my way over to them. David points out where his group crossed and then to the top of his knee showing the depth. As the Italians pack up and head off, I put on my faux Crocs for a final time and hike my tights up as high as they will go. The woman in the group of 5 indicates I should go higher – I respond I’ve already hit the limit. While I got brand new, super cute patterned underpants expressly for this water crossing (I had seen pictures of hip deep water here,) it seemed unnecessarily scandalous to disrobe any further. I figure the tights will probably dry quickly in the warm sun.
The water is indeed deep and extremely swift. A few splashes hit mid-thigh, soaking sections of my tights, but soon enough, I’m back on dry land. We chatted while I regain feeling in my feet (Although the icy water felt great on my poor ankle.) The group ribbed me a bit about the difference in my pace from yesterday (they couldn’t catch me) vs today (I couldn’t catch them.) I laughed along with them and opt not to share my ankle woes.
Since they’re mostly packed up, they head on to the huts with promises to meet up later. Knowing this was the home stretch, I take a few minutes to clean up and enjoy the sun. Soon though, I saw the large group headed down the hill and decide to get on my way.
I stopped to read the sign about the reclaimed birch forest and how local ranchers gave up some of their grazing rights to create this preserve. The trail soon turned into a road. A very wet, muddy road. About a kilometer in, I figure I’m going the wrong way (Surely this can’t be a road slog the whole way into Volcano Huts?!?) I come back to the signage that indicates the FI Huts vs Volcano Huts and choose a different route. As I head up a largish hill, I realize that I am now, in fact, on the way to the FI huts ie, going the wrong way. I turn around once again and head back to the road slog. Later tonight I will learn the group of five did almost exactly the same thing. They though went all the way to the FI huts, explaining their late arrival at camp.
Soon, I see signs of civilization including a random streetlight that doesn’t seem to be attached to anything. A building appears and I limp towards it. As I round the corner, I see Brett, Marthe, and Nick, all enjoying a beverage in the sun. Shortly after I grab my own beverage (Oddly, a canned cocktail, not the beer I had expected) Nic, Leanne, and Lisa round the corner as well. It turns out they were weirdos yelling behind me on the last stretch of the road.
While it was bittersweet to finish without him or her, it was a nice consolation to have most of my trail friends with me. Shortly after we sat down to one last group dinner, the tutus wandered in and we all relieved, sometimes for the first time, our various trials and tribulations from the trip.
Tomorrow, back to friends and family!
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