yt tours niceland

EPI and I and EPI’s father have just spent three days driving across the central highlands. It’s incredibly barren and stunningly beautiful there, and certainly brings home the problem of erosion in this country. We spent one night in a hotel up there, just before setting off across Sprengisandur sands [more on them later] which essentially is a desert in the midst of the interior, in between the glaciers Hofsjökull and Vatnajökull [the largest ice cap in Europe - nb. the Wikipedia entry cites the English translation as ‘glacier of rivers’ which is incorrect, it should be ‘glacier of lakes’]. We stopped at several waterfalls along the way and ended in Akureyri, where we spent our second night, and drove back to town the following day [yesterday].

I’ve just uploaded a bunch of photos to Flickr and will elaborate on our trip a bit more anon. Till then

PS. Thanks for all your lovely comments on the last post!

My father and his wife own a cottage with two other families, so they have the right to it every third week. They don’t always make use of it, though, and when they do it’s often just for the weekend, and they are very generous about lending it to us, their children, when it’s not in use. Meanwhile, YT is pretty much the only one who is flexible enough to be able to make use of it during regular weekdays, because I’m the only one who doesn’t have a real job.

It’s such a great retreat and I love to sneak off there by myself for a few days. I’ve just come back and this time, because my father and his wife are away for a few weeks, we were able to use their entire seven days. So EPI and I went up there for the weekend and he left on Monday morning for work, while I stayed on and, well, worked [the luxury of having a laptop for an office]. I love the solitude and the few days’ throwback to living all by myself with nobody else to worry about, being able to distribute my toiletries all over the bathroom and hang my bikini in the shower until I need to use it again, eating when I’m hungry, sleeping when I’m tired. All that.

Something like this would probably only work in Iceland, though, and really only in the summer. So far I have not been partial to the idea of heading up there by myself in the winter, when it is dark [it’s easy to feel safe in the middle of the night when it’s bright daylight outside]. I recall one valiant attempt at solitude at my aunt and uncle’s cottage in Canada, when I stayed behind, as I recall, in order to write something profound and brilliant. A futile exercise: I fled home the next day after a late-night encounter with a large and particularly grotesque spider, as well as another large unidentified insect that was actually intelligent enough to fly into the room, then turn its head and look at me! Thankfully there are no such horrifying creatures here, although it has to be said that the Icelandic specimen of spider is completely disgusting and never fails to give me the heebie-jeebies.

Anyway, I’ll leave you with a picture of the sunset, taken last weekend almost exactly at midnight.

Weather today: Absolutely divine, so that I could hardly tear myself away from the country. I sunbathed on the deck for as long as I could before I absolutely had to head home, and it was HOT, probably around 30°C where there was shelter from the wind. Driving into town I was one of the few cars going that way, whereas the traffic out of town was bumper-to-bumper: this is one of the Nicelanders’ main travelling weekends [although it seems that lately every summer weekend has become a major travelling weekend. Right now at midnight it’s 11°C in the capital [52F], sunrise was at 3.13 am and sunset at 11.50 pm.

So, I was just on my way out today when the earthquake hit. I was in the bedroom getting some stuff together and AAH was standing yacking away at me when I felt trembling and heard that eerie, creepy kind of rumble that always accompanies earthquakes. AAH didn’t notice, just kept talking, until I grabbed her and made for the doorway, and we stood there while the house shook all around us. Polly flew up screeching, the door to the hall cupboard flew open and the little lantern I have hung up in the hallway started swinging alarmingly back and forth. This seemed to last forever.

The most scary thing about earthquakes I find is the absolute powerlessness you feel in the face of their hugeness. The second most scary thing is not knowing if it’s over. Is this it, or is there more to come? Or - is there something bigger on the way? The shock hits afterwards: HOLY SHIT, that was an earthquake, should I run outside - or what?

The phone rang immediately; it was EPI calling from work, but as soon as I picked up the receiver it went dead and there was no way to get a connection for the next 15 minutes or so, neither with a landline nor GSM. Connection soon resumed, but police and civil defence were asking people not to use their phones unless absolutely necessary, to keep lines free for emergencies.

Anyway, it soon transpired that the epicenter was near Selfoss, about an hours’ drive from here [as it was the last time we had a major quake, in 2000] and the quake was somewhere between 6.1 and 6.7 on the Richter scale [reports vary]. I had the radio on in the car and there were live reports from Selfoss, where the reporter was clearly very shaken. Thankfully there were no major injuries to people [one good thing about living in Niceland is that they’re sticklers about building standards over here] but as you can imagine there was a fair bit of damage - outhouses collapsed at farms so sheep and lambs had to be put down, things fell off walls and shelves, household items were smashed, there was damage to roads and bridges, and there were landslides in various places. For the longest time people were strongly advised not to go back inside buildings for fear of another quake; the hospital and seniors’ home were evacuated and shelters were [and have been] set up both in Selfoss and here in Reykjavík, for people who can’t or don’t want to spend the night at home. Some buildings [like the hospital] are heavily damaged, with deep cracks in the walls and such, so obviously remaining inside is risky.

EPI’s brother lives in Selfoss; EPI spoke to him earlier. Turns out nothing was damaged at their place except for one egg cup that broke, which must be considered lucky since their massive mutha of a stove [it’s got three ovens in it] actually moved about 5 cm across the floor. Also, EPI’s brother had just finished some stonework in front of the house [a low wall of some sort] which was flattened. EPI was kind of concerned that their turf roof would have slid right off the sides, which would have been kind of unfortunate - but he needn’t have worried, it remained firmly in place so they’ll be spared the experience of sleeping under the stars.

Meanwhile, seismologists have determined that a major aftershock is not very likely since there were actually two earthquakes this afternoon, rather than one [which presumably accounts for how long it seemed to last]. Note bene, this is not counting smaller tremor that happened both before and after, and are still going on. This will also have eased a fair bit of the tension, which means that the people of Selfoss whose houses were not damaged are now officially free to sleep at home tonight. The others will have to spend the night elsewhere.

THANKFULLY IT WAS A GORGEOUS DAY
So the peeps of Selfoss could pass the time outdoors this afternoon without too much trouble. According to the reporter I listened to in the car, where she was standing women had come running outside in their bare feet - they’d been in the middle of a pedicure at a beauty salon, while others were having their hair highlighted so had a head full of aluminium foil [wonder what their hair looks like now!]. It was another utterly gorgeous day, right now we have 10°C [50F] and sunrise this morning was at 3.30 am, sunset due in exactly an hour, at 11.22 pm.

It was such a gorgeous day today - sunny, cold, crisp, and totally calm. I went out at lunchtime and for once remembered to take my camera with me. Everything was covered in a fine veneer of frost - the stones, the seaweed down on the shore, the vegetation, even the footprints in the sand.

There were lots of swans on the sea looking a bit lost, probably wandered off from the nearby pond which was pretty much frozen over. As soon as I passed they came swimming towards me, looking for handouts, no doubt [alas, had I known they’d be there I’d have stuffed some bread into my pockets as well]. These guys virtually accosted me, swimming right up to the shore and even walking up towards me as I pointed the camera. They’re spoiled - accustomed to being fed by the locals. Surprised they haven’t migrated to Scotland for the winter - I guess with global warming they find it just as easy to stay here.

Right now 1°C [39F] and the sun came up at 10.17 am, set at 4.09 pm.

This woman single-handedly took it upon herself to conduct a poll these past few weeks to discover the most beautiful word in the Icelandic language. The results are now in, and according to her readers the most beautiful word in the Icelandic language is ‘ljósmóðir’ which literally translated means ‘light mother’ - the Icelandic word for ‘midwife’. Coming a very close second was the word ‘kærleikur’, which literally translated means ‘heartfelt-play’ and is the Icelandic word for love-slash-charity [neither of those two words really captures the nuance of ‘kærleikur’], and in third place was the word ‘dalalæða’ which literally translated means something like ‘moving soundlessly and playfully into the valley’ and is the word for low-lying fog. Just thought you’d like to know.

Full results are here.

WE HAVE GLOOMY WEATHER ON THIS FIRST DAY BACK TO WORK
This past long holiday weekend marks the unofficial end to the Icelandic summer, as the days are getting progressively shorter and a hint of a chill is already in the air. Practically everything here [that isn’t travel-industry related] shuts down in July and opens up again right around this time - so as most Europeans start heading out on their vacations, we Nicelanders are preparing ourselves for winter hibernation. Right now we have 12°C [54F] and the sun came up at 4:52 am and is due to set at 10:12 pm.

PS. Incidentally, if you happen to have come here via a link on this messageboard, please be advised that the comment about travelling on the Icelandic ring road, to wit: “Most of the area around there is pretty f*cking bleak to look at (think “moonscape punctuated by occasional tiny towns in which there is nothing to do and almost no one, or perhaps no one, speaks English…” is utter crap and written by someone who doesn’t know what the f*ck they’re talking about. Instead, please peruse the archives of this blog, or check out the myriad photographs of said area on Flickr and elsewhere. Thank you.

Icelanders are notorious for their indiscriminate love of new gadgetry. One of the running jokes of this society is the electric foot massager debacle that happened one Christmas when there was a massive sale in electric foot massagers because it happened to be the indispensable household item of the day. A decade later, practically every other home in Iceland had an unused foot massager buried somewhere in the nether regions of their storage rooms.

The proverbial foot massager has appeared in some way, shape or form for decades. The fact is that Icelanders are incredibly impressionable – a bit like crows, they swoop down en masse on anything new and shiny. And over the years, as this nation has acquired more wealth, the ‘new and shiny’ has become ‘new and shiny and increasingly expensive’. When I was a teenager, I remember ten-speed bikes being the thing; the next year it was VCRs. Today it’s ever-larger SUVs and – the de rigueur gadget of the day – camper trailers.

Being hopelessly lame when it comes to chasing trends, EPI and didn’t know what had hit us last week when practically every other vehicle we met on our travels was pulling a trailer. I’m not exaggerating. We stopped at the campsite in Tálknafjörður and – lo and behold – there was hardly a single tent to be seen. It was all SUVs and trailers. We just looked at each other in amazement … the last time we were there, three years ago, there were tents everywhere. And now – not one.

On returning home, a brief report in one of the papers confirmed what we already knew: trailers are the new foot massagers and they’re selling like hotcakes. The report also quoted a campsite employee in Borgarnes [west Iceland] who said that, “the only people who pitch tents any more are teenagers and tourists.” Mmm. Quite. I must say I was very pleased to see that my favourite cartoonist, as ever, has his finger on the pulse, for a couple of days later, this appeared in Blaðið:

I rest my case.

OUR VERSLUNARMANNAHELGI WEATHER IS…
G’head, I dare you to say the above word out loud. What it means, of course, is that our annual ‘Labour Day’ weekend is upon us, and half the people residing in the capital are out of town in their camper trailers getting loaded at some outdoor festival or other. Meanwhile, this is the time of year when YT and her clan love staying at home, because you feel like you have the city all to yourself. [That said, there was an annoying number of shoppers in the Kringlan Mall today]. Unfortunately the weather isn’t being entirely cooperative – there’s a nasty wind blowing that is awfully cold and makes me feel like fall is already upon us. The Icelandic summer: blink and you’ll miss it. Temps right now are a blustery 9°C [48F plus windchill] and sunrise was at 4:43 am, sunset at 10:22 pm.

This latest hiking excursion of ours reconfirmed for me how much I absolutely love travelling in Iceland. It’s so vibrant with all sorts of impressions – from beautiful landscapes to incredible history, particularly the stories that abound in each place. In fact, to me that’s one of the most fantastic things about travelling here – the immensely dramatic narratives associated with every place. The Icelanders are a nation of storytellers – and story lovers.

The hiking group I belong to has been together in some shape or form for about the last 12 years. We’re all very different – of various ages and professions, and have somehow been drawn into this group. These are people I’d probably not hang out with under normal circumstances – we’re too different for that – but I’ve come to treasure being with them once a year because I just adore each and every one of them. There’s one thing they all share – a vibrancy of spirit, an agelessness, that makes them absolutely unique, and so much fun to be around. Plus, I’d trust each one of them with my life.

One of the group is a seasoned mountaineer who has been a guide with the Iceland Touring Association for years and knows countless locations off the beaten track. Those are the places we tend to go. This time we were based in a small village called Reykhólar and explored an area called Barðaströnd, on the southern coast of the West Fjords.

On day one, we set off along the picturesque coast of one fjord and hiked to the end, then up the coast of the next one. Day two we drove to a fjord somewhat further away, then turned off the road and took a bumpy jeep track to a country church in a highly remote location. We stopped to have lunch next to a boulder known as ‘Prestasteinn’ or ‘parson’s rock– which is believed to contain the skeleton of a mean old parson underneath [see here]. We also looked for the ruins of a sheep shed that featured rather dramatically in another tale, too long to recount here, but were unsuccessful [I guess we were fairly optimistic to expect to find the remains of a 200-year old sheep shed – not the most robust of structures]. On the way back, we stopped and hiked across a mountain pass known as Gufudalsháls, the so-called ‘kirkjuleið’ or ‘church road’ that the locals used to take in centuries past when they went to church. It took about four hours, went up to an elevation of 380 m., and ended at this gorgeous little country church.

On day three we headed for the mountains known as Vaðalfjöll – very stunning both in shape and formation – they’re essentially made up of basalt columns, which routinely fall off and create deposits in the surroundings. It was quite a hairy climb to the top, along a very steep and narrow pass, and even hairier going down. From there we drove to a place called ‘Borg’ and hiked down to the seashore where we were stopped in our tracks by the vision of two eagles circling overhead. As is the case elsewhere, it is extremely rare to see eagles here in Niceland, much less to be treated to a lengthy show of their aerial acrobatics and harrowing battles with a handful of arctic tern that seemed to take it in shifts to go after them. The tern are beautiful birds but highly aggressive – they even attack humans who dare venture near their nesting areas, and act as ‘soldiers’ for other birds, who make a point of building their nests near them. This particular tern was relentless, screeching and dive-bombing on the poor eagle, which made feeble efforts to swat it with its wings. While we sat there and ate lunch we pondered the mystery of why the eagle didn’t just swoop down on one of the islets offshore, where there were nests aplenty filled with succulent little baby birds. Later we found out that there’s an eagle’s nest in the cliff behind us and incredibly, eagles don’t hunt within two kilometers’ radius of their nests. Fascinating. Anyway, after observing this for a while we carried on to this rock, known as the ‘trading post of the elves’ – the story behind which I do not know, apart from that elves feature prominently in Icelandic lore. It, incidentally, contained falcons’ nests.

On our fourth and final day we hired a boat and skipper and headed out to Skáleyjar in Breiðafjörður bay, a cluster of islands that are still inhabited by two elderly brothers – who because of their age only live there in summer now. They keep sheep and collect eider down from the nests on the islands, which they refine and sell for hefty sums. We were promised coffee and ‘kleinur’ [Icelandic dough pastries] while out there, but as it turned out, the brothers weren’t home that day so were unable to receive us. No matter, because our skipper showed us around – he turned out to be incredibly well informed and a natural guide. Since we had to miss coffee he suggested we sail over to the nearby island of Flatey [one of the most charming places on earth] for soup and homemade bread at the sole restaurant. He didn’t have to ask twice – and so we got a guided tour of Flatey as a bonus. It was an excellent day, much longer than we’d originally bargained for, and our skipper refused to charge us a krona more than had initially been arranged.

A massive ‘gala dinner’ that evening wrapped up those four excellent days; however EPI and I hadn’t had quite enough of the West Fjords so we struck out on our own in a westerly direction. I’m sure I could write a short novel on everything we experienced in those two days, but the cursory version will have to do: we headed out to Tálknafjörður, a small fishing village that I absolutely fell in love with three years ago on one of our hiking trips. From there we explored some of the amazing sights in the region, including Rauðisandur [Red Sands] and Látrabjarg cliff, where the puffins are so friendly you can virtually reach out and touch them. The latter is the westernmost point of Iceland and hence Europe, and rises straight up as a sheer cliff face 441 metres [around 1,500 ft] from the sea. Rauðasandur is amazingly lovely and has been the site of some incredibly dramatic events in the past, particularly Sjöundá [site of one of the most heinous murder cases in Iceland, two centuries ago] and Skor, a remote headland that we hiked out to, and that takes hikers along a highly treacherous path that is definitely not for the faint at heart.

Anyway, the West Fjords have completely captured my heart – it’s such a magnificent area, filled with amazing people and stunning scenery. Mysticism, too – in addition to the dramatic tales that abound, it’s been the main site of sorcery and witchcraft in Iceland. In fact, while driving up there I was flipping through the real estate ads and found a small guest house for sale in Tálknafjörður for a pittance … tempting. Very tempting.

TODAY’S WEATHER
Fair and windy, temps around 13°C [57F]. Sunrise was at 4:33 am and sunset due for 10:32 pm.

We’re off to scale a mountain or two.

Bis bald!

Today EPI and I strapped on our hiking boots on and joined the hoardes trekking up Mt. Esja, our beloved mountain across the bay. It’s a great hike which is clearly becoming more popular each year, as this was actually the first time ever that we had to search for a parking space at the foot of the mountain. Meanwhile, the path up and down was almost like Laugavegur on a busy Saturday.

But no matter: it was yet another a gorgeous day and the sun shone brilliantly, bringing the colours of the wildflowers to life and generally sending its happy rays our way. About two-thirds of the way up we flopped out in our favourite grassy hollow and just soaked it up until clouds passed over and it was time to embark on the steepest part to the summit.

Just before you get to the top there is a section with very steep cliffs where poles become redundant and some proper hands-on climbing is finally required. Many people are intimidated by that part - to me, it’s the absolute raisin at the end of the hot dog*. EPI claims it’s because I’m a Capricorn and he may be right; all I know is that it gives me immense satisfaction to hang off those steep rock faces by the toes of my shoes and the tips of my fingers, searching for a rock to grip or the right ledge to place a foot.

Once you actually get to the top there’s a viewpoint with a dial giving the names of the various locations in the area. Inside the column there’s a metal cylinder that you pull out, which has a book and some pens in it, for hikers to sign their names. I don’t know if that’s a tradition elsewhere [anyone?] but it is here in many locations, and I really enjoy it as a tradition. Sort of validates the accomplishment, if you will.

Anyway, the elevation is about 700 metres [2,300 feet], which means that a relatively leisurely hike takes about an hour and 45 minutes up, and just over an hour down. Afterwards we went to the pool to soak in a hot tub - truly a wonderful end to the day - and after that to our fave burger joint for a well-earned burger and some fries. Mmm.

Incidentally, it was blazing sunshine on the way up, but while we were at the top it started to drop, and by the time we were all the way down it was pouring. BUT being properly outfitted [natch], we didn’t mind. Right now temps are 12°C [54F] and sunrise was 3:05 am, sunset 11:56 pm.

BTW a Flickr set with photos may be found here.

* Nicelandic idiom, meaning ‘the best part’.