Nobody believes Landmannalaugar until they see it. The mountains are not grey or brown but streaked with yellow, pink, green, blue and a deep rusty red, as if a giant had spilled a paintbox down the slopes, and the colours come from rhyolite, a volcanic rock rich in silica and stained by minerals. Beside them lie black lava fields and a steaming river, and the whole scene looks painted rather than made. The place is part of the Fjallabak nature reserve, a wild corner of the southern highlands.
Getting here is an adventure in its own right. The roads that lead in are gravel mountain tracks with river crossings, some of them deep enough to need care and a bike with decent ground clearance, and they open only in summer, depending on snow, usually from about June. Conditions change with rain and meltwater, and the crossings can be harder in the afternoon when glacial streams rise. Look at the road authority's reports, ride with company if you can, and do not be too proud to turn back.
Landmannalaugar is the starting point of the famous Laugavegur trek, which runs about fifty-five kilometres south to Þórsmörk, and in July the hut here is crowded with walkers. A natural hot spring runs into a cold stream, creating a bathing spot where the temperature depends on exactly where you sit, and riders with tired shoulders will find it a blessing. The name means the people's pools, a nod to the long history of travellers who rested here on the way across the highlands.
Nature is sparse but spectacular. The ground is covered with moss and lichen, and the lava of the Laugahraun field is jagged and black. Torfajökull, a huge volcanic complex, sits behind the camp, with steam rising from the hillsides in many places. The air is cold and carries a faint smell of sulphur.
Facilities are limited to a mountain hut, a campsite and a seasonal cafe, so bring your own supplies and expect no phone signal. Choose a stable weather window, and give the place at least an hour for a walk among the colours.