Having run out of frozen meals, Kathryn and I decided to go to Iceland. Our main objective was the Laugavegur trail, which runs from the hot springs of Landmannalaugar to the glacial valley of Þórsmörk, with an optional extra day or two over the Fimmvörðuháls pass to Skógar. The route would take us past the  Eyjafjallajökull glacier, the scene of the 2010 eruption which disrupted flights across Europe. When it comes to words I am physically unable to pronounce, Icelandic is rivalled only by Welsh. Try saying Eyjafjallajökull three times backwards as fast as you can...

Our Nordic Odyssey began with a one night stay in Reykjavik. I was probably more excited than I needed to be about the slight sulphurous smell in the showers (the hot water is pumped straight out of the ground) - it was a sign of smells to come.

The following morning we took the coach to Landmannalaugar. The combination of a 4wd bus, unpaved roads, river crossings and views of the volcano Hekla kept our spirits high, despite the drizzle that had been persistently falling since our arrival.

River crossing at Landmannalaugar

We planned to spend the afternoon exploring the environs of Landmannalaugar before starting our trek the following morning. The best way of exploring the area is to lie in the natural geothermal pool for a couple of hours, relax, and occasionally swivel your head from side to side to take in a slightly different view. The thermal pool is created by almost boiling water from a hot spring meeting colder water. By moving relative to the hot inlet, and raising or lowering your body (there is quite a big vertical temperature gradient) fine temperature control can be achieved, with anything from "this bath is getting a little cool and we're out of hot water" to "ow, ow ow, I put my foot in the bath before I'd added any cold water" possible. The cold (perhaps 8°C) air temperature only served to enrich the experience!

To be fair, we also went for a stroll to a nearby water-filled volcanic crater. In fact it turned into a 10 mile march as we forgot that our map had a 1:100 000 scale.

After a night disrupted by an astonishing display of snoring, our first, and longest, day took us 24km over a 1000m pass (where the Hrafntinnusker hut is found) and down to the hut at Álftavatn. An hour in, the drizzle started, and as we gained height it turned to sleet and then snow. Other than removing the view, it didn't detract from the day too much though - we were far too excited by the lava fields, fumaroles, sulphurous pools and bubbling hot springs to care. The landscape was vastly different to anytihng we had seen; mulitcoloured mountains and tephra/pumice everywhere. The highlight was probably heating up a boil-in-the-bag corned beef hash in a bubbling pool. The lowlight was our rye bread, carefully selected because we reckoned it would last us 5 days without going stale or mouldy. It doesn't go mouldy because it is so unpleasant that even fungi can't stomach it.

By the time we had descended to the level of Álftavatn, we were below the clouds once more, and arrived at the hut reasonably dry, after negotiating a river crossing via a dubiously balanced plank.

The view from the hut at Álftavatn

A much shorter day today, with spice added by two river crossings. The black ash of the lower hills was covered in vivid green moss, a huge contrast in atmosphere from yesterday. The rivers were about knee deep and negotiated hand in hand, wearing sandals, with rucksack straps undone. The water fell very firmly into the "so cold it hurts" category. After the river crossings, we traversed a vast desert-like plain of black ash, later christened 'Mordor' by fellow travellers in the hut at Emstrur.

As we arrived on the slopes above the hut, we caught our first glimpse of the vast Mýrdalsjökull ice cap (under which lies the volcano Katla), which would be a constant presence on our left for the next three days. We had arrived at the hut quite early, so had time for an afternoon walk to look down into the vertiginous Markarfljótsgljúfur canyon (doesn't that name just roll off your tongue).

A day of nearly constant drizzle and and icy wind, with a particularly "fun" river crossing, which required de-trousering. By late afternoon, it had cleared up and the wide Þórsmörk valley was pleasantly lit up by the evening sun. Many of the people who had been in the same huts as us got the bus back the Reykjavik, their treks being over, but we still had two more days left.

This was the day when we most wanted good weather, and the Icelandic weather gods obliged. Beneath a sunny sky we traversed several kilometers across the Þórsmörk valley and began ascending the lushly vegetated slopes below the Fimmvörðuháls pass. As we gained height, the views became increasingly staggering. Behind us, and beyond the birch forests in Þórsmörk, we could see the black sand desert, vivid mossy green hills and the multicoloured volcanic mountains above Landmannalaugar, 50km to the north. The Mýrdalsjökull and Eyjafjallajökull ice caps extended to either side ahead of us. We approached the pass via a high level ice-rink-flat plain, where the top of a mountain appeared to have been cleanly chopped off, presumably by a glacier or an angry Nordic god with a scythe. On the far side of a ravine, another similar plain, extending to the Mýrdalsjökull, bore a river of melt-water down to a huge waterfall. And next to the waterfall lay what appeared to be a frozen "lava fall", with lava from the 2010 eruption still steaming.

We continued to climb, and soon entered the clouds once more. Our route now took us straight across the 2010 lava fields. At one point we noticed that the cold wind had suddenly warmed up, and the fog was actually steam. Plunging our hands into the volcanic ash for more than a couple of seconds was unbearably hot. This is from an eruption 3 years ago!

The view north east, climbing the Fimmvörðuháls pass

The Fimmvörðuháls hut was perched at the very top of the pass. The blustery wind toyed with us as it revealed tantalising views one moment, only to obscure them with cloud the next. This was possibly the best day's walking we had ever done.

What a contrast to yesterday. The 50km visibility was more like 50m for the entire day. We expected to drop out of the clag as we descended to Skógar, but it was with us all the way and we got a thorough drenching! Nevertheless, there were some spectacular sights to see, as the route followed the Skógá river down a sequence of increasingly impressive waterfalls, culminating in the 70m Skógafoss. We had a few hours to spare in Skógar itself before our bus back to Reykjavik. We used the time constructively by sitting in a café, eating burgers and cake and feeling thoroughly chuffed with ourselves.

We had a couple of days based in Reykjavik after our trek. The first day was spent doing a 'Golden Circle'  coach trip, to see the mighty waterfall Gullfoss and the Strokkur geyser at Geysir. Our final day was spent in Hveragerði, where the river Varmá is warmed by some very impressive hot springs. After initially scolding the soles of our feet, we found a lovely spot to lie in the shallow stream for an hour or so.

In summary, go to Iceland.

Wookey, Kathryn and I, joined by Jeremy and Chris, were following a team of Durham cavers into Roaring Hole, a cave notable for its damp boulder chokes. The plan was for us to loiter in Inglesport for an hour or so then head down the cave in Chapel-le-Dale and derig their ropes. We executed the first part of the plan exceptionally well.

 

As we walked towards the cave we met a gaggle of familiar but cleaner than usual-looking, yellow-suited cavers coming the other way. Durham had aborted below the second choke because it was too wet. After a couple of days of unsettled weather it seemed we had made a poor choice of cave.

Nevertheless, we grabbed their rope and went to look for ourselves. Jeremy and Chris turned round soon after the entrance climb, but the three of use pressed on through the dryish first choke to the first pitch, down which a waterfall was thundering. It turned out that the way on was down a hole in the floor virtually under the waterfall.

Now, I've been through plenty of boulder chokes in my time, and, when they are stable, I have even learnt to enjoy slithering through the small holes and trying to work out the way on in the 3D maze. However, having a torrent of water crashing onto your head, in your face and through your suit at the same time was a very new and somewhat unnerving experience. Luckily the route was fairly obvious, being where the water was flowing. But it was all but impossible to see where we were going. The tacklesack got abandoned part way through the choke, and the three of us emerged at the bottom very wet and somewhat more understanding of why the rigging team had turned round here.

With the possibility of rain later, we didn't want to loiter below the choke too long, so elected to leave the tacklesack and see how far we could quickly get before turning round. After a crawling sized streamway, we arrived at another boulder choke. Well, I think so, but it was hard to tell what it was as another swollen waterfall was tumbling straight into it. I followed Wookey in, and it was immediately apparent that this choke was even worse.

Several squirming metres down, I  looked up, receiving a face full of water, and came to the conclusion that going back up wasn't going to be all that trivial. At that point one of two things happened; I'm genuinely unsure which:

(a) I had a wibble and wussed out of going any further.
(b) I made a rational decision that continuing might be foolhardy and turned round.

Either way, a couple of minutes later Kathryn and I found ourselves above the choke waiting for Wookey. Then we waited some more. And some more. The water had been so loud that Wookey probably hadn't heard me shouting so we assumed he would either wait for a bit and come back or decide to quickly have a look further on in the cave whilst he was there. I went back to my previous point in the choke but there was still no sign of him.

We were now seriously entertaining the possibility in our heads that Wookey might be lost somewhere in the choke or unable to return due to the water. To our great relief, as we were discussing what to do about this predicament, a lamp shone through the waterfall and a dishevelled Wookey appeared. As we had hoped, he had just gone for a look around below the choke (apparently we had turned round a metre or so before it ended).

Chilled to the bone, we made our way back up to the first of the wet chokes, and got another thorough drenching as we clambered up through it, rescuing the tacklesack on the way. We emerged to hordes of Three Peaks walkers making their way up Ingleborough. I spent most of the following evening trying to get warm again.

Time Underground: only 2hrs, but try standing under a cold power shower for a while and tell me it doesn't feel like a lot longer!

With the prospect of a long trip to Draenen at the weekend, I had spent some time on Friday printing out various bits of description and surveys to several potential locations in the cave. I had then cleverly forgotten to pack them before driving down to South Wales.

Emma, Nial and I settled on a trip to War of the Worlds, a huge passage in the south of the cave, with some formations nearby. Armed with one paragraph of useful text, a photo of the survey and a vague recollection that I'd read that "it's somewhere a bit beyond Snowball Passage", we reluctantly left behind a rare sunny day above Abergavenny and squirmed our way through the somewhat miserable entrance series. A little while later we stripped off the tops of our oversuits at the first water stop (in Lamb and Fox Chamber) and made our sweaty way through the maze of dry tunnels to Snowball Passage.




Remind you of anything...?

I had assumed that it would only be a few minutes of caving from here to War of the Worlds, but it turned into a bit of a slog. We managed to find the route round a boulder choke choke into The Black Run, and soon after found the squirm down into Lost in Space. A combination of stooping and crawling, Lost in Space wasn't as big as the name suggests, but eventually we emerged into a huge chamber with impressive flowstone walls, the Reactor.

It had been been four years since I last went caving in the Mendips, and now I'm wondering why I left it so long! That trip in 2009 included a visit to recent discoveries in Upper Flood Swallet. However, the prettiest section, Neverland, was closed off as it was deemed too fragile to cope with any caver traffic. Since then, a bypass has been dug, which enables access to Neverland with less risk to the formations. When Alex and Jess sorted out a trip there, with Mike the Animal leading, in return for us doing a bit of digging, I jumped at the chance to join them.

 

Upper Flood Swallet

A poor photo of the Pork Pies

A warm and sunny morning left us wondering why we were going underground in such rare nice weather. We soon remembered why, as we stooped and crawled past straws, curtains and calcite bosses - and this was still just the entrance series. The Lavatory Pan was a one-wet-ear duck last time we were here, but has now been dug out to more pleasant proportions.

We called this "The Boob"

Jess behind a curtain

Swildons Hole - Short Round Trip