We parked the jeep by the side of the road. At 11am, already there were 6 cars here, lined up on the edge of the black sand plains. It used to be possible to drive right up to the crash site, until inconsiderate and loutish driving behaviours caused the landowners to close off vehicular access. Yes, this wreckage is situated on private land, but true to the Icelandic spirit, its been made readily accessible to the hordes of tourists that descend upon this site.
In a way, I'm glad that vehicle access is closed - now only the truly dedicated would undertake the 4km march from the road shoulder to the site itself.
I set off on foot, with 15kg (33lbs) of equipment on my back. I used to serve in the Army, so I was used to long field marches with a fully-laden ruck.
That was many years ago though.
The weather was kind - overcast skies and a gentle breeze. It was neither too cold nor too blustery. Soon, the endless black sands met the horizon before me, and the mountains were watching my back. I was really excited to finally come face-to-crash with the DC-10.
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