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Hornvik has a magical feel to it. The valley is several miles wide, and when the sky is clear you're surrounded by pristine mountains on three sides. When it's grey, the green of the tundra dominates, enormous waterfalls loom in the distance, and flocks of thousands of seagulls swirl low over the lakes every few minutes.

Today we set out for Hlöðuvík, having talked to enough people to have some confidence that it was passable. The first section was a long, steady uphill into the neighboring valley, and topped out at Atlaskarð, an easy mountain pass.

It's named for Atla, an outlaw who was tracked down to this spot, murdered, and buried in the pass. A large pile of stones marks the spot, and it's customary for each passing traveler to leave three stones for Atla.

We take a short rest, leave our share of stones, and move out across the high valley to the much-worried-about pass of Skálarkambur.

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