Nýidalur sits at around eight hundred metres in a stony hollow beneath the Tungnafellsjökull glacier, and it feels as remote as any place in Europe. A pair of huts run by the Iceland Touring Association stand in a landscape of black gravel and pale sky, with the nearest farm hours away in any direction. It is roughly the midpoint of the Sprengisandur highland route, and the arrival here after hours on a rough track is both a relief and a quiet marvel.
The road is demanding. The Sprengisandur is a long gravel track across the high desert between the icecaps, with corrugations, loose gravel, sand patches and rivers that can be crossed only with care, and it opens for a short season in summer, normally from late June or July. Weather can be savage, with wind, rain and even snow at any time, and visibility can drop quickly. Bikes need to be well prepared, riders need experience, and it is wise to travel in company and tell someone your plans.
The name Sprengisandur comes from a verb meaning to burst, and the sense is of horses ridden to the point of collapse in the long, waterless crossing. For centuries this was one of the few routes between north and south, used by travellers and outlaws, and folk tales are full of ghosts, trolls and lost men. The old cairns that mark the way are still there. The desert itself is a plateau of volcanic sand and rock, shaped by wind and ice, with the great ice cap of Vatnajökull to the south-east.
Nature is minimal but enthralling. A few hardy plants grow in sheltered gullies, and the colours of the rock and sky dominate. Geese nest in some of the wetter places, and a few hardy sheep wander, but there is little else. The silence is extraordinary, with only the wind and the occasional trickle of meltwater.
The huts provide basic shelter and a warden in season, but do not rely on supplies. Carry water, food, warm clothing and the means to call for help. Take time to look around: this is as wild as it gets.