The Laugavegur Trail is so good I tackled it twice
The sounds were surreal, a chaotic symphony of wailing, whimpering, growling, and the occasional trumpeting noise you might expect from a zoo. Yet, this was no animal kingdom; it was a shared dormitory in a hiking hut, filled with fellow adventurers — human beings, not hippos or zebras.
Specifically, it was a group of Chinese tourists. Before anyone jumps to conclusions about racism, let me clarify: during the day, they were the most amiable bunch on the trail. One gentleman even recommended everyone wear earplugs, gesturing apologetically at the riotous noise around us. As if earplugs could truly muffle that cacophony, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
“In any case, the first time I attempted the hike, I was woefully uninformed about both hiking and the formidable Icelandic mountains — two essentials for anyone considering an adventure in these rugged terrains.”
That somewhat sleepless night turned out to be the most arduous part of what otherwise unfolded into a breathtaking five-day trek on the Laugavegur Trail. Renowned for its stunning vistas, this trail is among Iceland’s most popular and consistently ranks as one of the most scenic in the world. The experience was so life-affirming that it inspired me to return for a second time; my first journey took place in the early 2000s while I was in Reykjavik crafting a book about the music scene. One might wonder what Iceland’s mountains have to do with its music. Everything, if you’re a music journalist who delights in describing Sigur Rós’s sound as “glacial” and is smitten by Björk’s whimsical paganism. Ahem.
As I reflected on my first foray, I realized how ill-prepared I had been: a T-shirt, jeans, and a non-waterproof army jacket that soaked through on day one. I borrowed hiking boots that were more of a hindrance than help and stuffed my backpack with jars of pasta sauce and tins of fish — not to mention a useless camera tripod. “Idiot” doesn’t quite capture it.
Miraculously, I survived. This time, however, I resolved to be more equipped. I invested in proper gear, packed dehydrated meals, and engaged in actual training. As the bus jostled its way from Reykjavik to the Landmannalaugar basecamp, my hiking partner and I felt a wave of readiness, albeit tinged with apprehension over the mid-September weather.
On arrival, the trail felt familiar, save for the presence of the only well-stocked supply wagon along the route, aptly named the Mountain Mall. While we didn’t need supplies, curiosity led us there, where we encountered a small bottle of whisky. “How much?” we inquired. “A lot,” the shopkeeper cheerfully replied. Tempted by the idea of warming up with whisky during a potential blizzard or while navigating through tight spots, we bought it. Each night, we added a splash to our hot chocolate, unwinding in our dorm beds, scrolling through photos from our day.
“It’s a challenge to avoid using superlatives while traversing such a dynamic landscape filled with pastel-colored rhyolite mountains, shimmering obsidian fields, geothermal springs, snow-capped glaciers, and stretches of black sand.”
And what a landscape it was! Otherworldly, thrilling, and utterly breathtaking. It’s nearly impossible to find the right words when walking through diverse terrains that blend vibrant hues with the starkness of nature. Amazingly, despite being at the end of the hiking season, we enjoyed everyday sunshine, enduring only a few stubborn gusts of wind and even a picturesque night of snowfall — with not a drop of rain in sight.
However, the trail demands a fair level of fitness. It comprises four main sections, resulting in two days of 12 kilometers filled with steep climbs (particularly the ascent from Landmannalaugar to Hrafntinnusker, gaining about 500 meters in altitude) and two slightly flatter days totaling 16 kilometers each. Though the trek had been arduous in my memory, this time it felt manageable. Maybe it was the kinder weather, or perhaps I was simply no longer dressed like a novice.
Most days, we wrapped up our hikes in 3 to 5 hours. Despite our fatigue and delight in reaching our sleeping quarters, we felt compelled to venture out for additional side-hikes after a brief rest. The huts, maintained by the wonderful folks at the Iceland Touring Association, offer essential services — hot water, heating, and toilets — and camping grounds are available for those who prefer to pitch a tent.
Did I mention the symphonic snoring in the dorms was my only challenge? I should also note that while the huts at Hrafntinnusker look charming against the mountainous backdrop, the compost toilets call for a brave soul (or a nose peg) to linger there comfortably. And as for the rivers, despite bringing nifty wading shoes this time — a stark improvement over crossing them barefoot the previous time — they remained painfully cold, evoking yelps even from the most stoic hikers.
“After the final river crossing, we were welcomed into the lush surroundings of Langidalur valley in Þórsmörk.”
But what glorious hot showers awaited us at Álftavatn to wash away the discomfort of the toilets. After conquering the last river crossing, we finally stepped into the verdant embrace of the Langidalur valley in Þórsmörk.
Looking back, do we wish we had embarked on the Fimmvörðuháls Trail, an additional 25-kilometer stretch through Skógar that can be conquered in one long trek or broken into two shorter days? Perhaps. However, we felt no regret about booking a room at Midgard Basecamp, where the driver welcomed us with a delicious hot dog barbecue. We savored our last glasses of whisky before indulging in hot showers and comfortable beds — guaranteed without a single loud snorer in earshot.
The Laugavegur Trail, nestled deep in the Icelandic highlands, boasts excellent accessibility during the hiking season, which runs from late April to mid-September. Reykjavik Excursions, for instance, provides direct services to Landmannalaugar and shuttles hikers back to the capital from Þórsmörk.
