On the first night inside the volcano, Lidenbrock finds that “the bed was hard, the shelter unsatisfactory”, and later his expedition ends up on a raft in an underground sea, grappling with monsters. Ghastly.
When they do eventually emerge from under the earth, they’ve drifted as far as Stromboli, off of Sicily, and it’s August. The olives and vines sound nice.
“There are loads of volcanos. And astonishing scenery” but, look, I’ve got deadlines. And there must be other volcanos here, instead. There are.
We’re barely touching the western edge of Iceland, but there are loads of them. Astonishing scenery under your feet, in front of, and above you. Everywhere. And the Sorento? It’s very good, like all Kias.
It’s seriously relaxing on the road, easy to rub along with, and I get it stuck only once more, when I find a road that leads to Sneffels from the other side. I decide against trying to cross the first serious snow patch I find until John, our photographer, makes chicken noises at me over the walkie-talkie, which obviously means I have to try it, and it doesn’t work. So it’s his fault, really.
Anyway, Iceland. It’s a great road trip location. I know everyone who’s been to Iceland says it, but it’s true. Spectacular amounts of volcano absolutely all around you. Beautiful.
Basalt rocks that look like the moon abound, although quite a lot of them are sharp, so if you want to stop for a picnic, do take a chair. But do go, if you can. Just watch out for the fires. And the ice.
