The Drive to Hofn

July 31 was as uneventful as a day in Iceland could be.  We had along drive from Myvatn to Hofn (pronounced "Huppin"), and could not afford to make many stops along the way.  But the drive was pleasant.  With plenty of beauty.  Like this:

Looks like a nice little waterfall.  But please note for perspective the tiny people at the bottom.

After a few hours we passed through the town of Egilsstathir.  We stopped off and had some coffee and shared a slice of rhubarb-vanilla pie that was spectacularly good.  Stephanie said without hyperbole that it was the best pie she ever tasted.  I will not insult my grandmother Millie by agreeing, but it was awesome.

There was some kind of youth sporting event happening in Egilsstathir that seemed to be some kind of junior Olympics for the whole region.  There was soccer and track and all kinds of stuff going on.  Leaving Egilsstathir, I made a wrong turn and we ended up on a dirt road.

The longer we drove on this road the more treacherous it became, and I was little concerned that we might harm the car car and get charged for the damage.  But in the end we made it through and the road spilled us into Berufjorthur, which was a truly glorious fjord.

Shortly after, we reconnected with the Hringraut.  We were now on the south-east coast of Iceland, enjoying the scenery from inside our car as the weather turned nasty outside.

 

 There were hundreds of swans or geese floating in the ocean, apparently unbothered by the bad weather.  

 I was feeling a bit claustrophobic up after several hours of driving, so I got out at a rest stop to snap some pictures on the black-sand beach. 

Hard to believe that was the best picture that I could get.  The wind kept blowing the camera over.

When we got to Hofn, we found our guesthouse, Arnanes.

We would thoroughly enjoy two nights at Arnanes, sleeping in the basement with a shared bathroom, but enjoying the comfortable beds, a room decorated with home-made art, and extravagantly good food.  

The lobster appetizer was yummy.  Icelandic lobsters are small but unbelievably good.

Myvatn

A few miles due east of Akureyri is lake Myvatn: home to the strangest landscape I have ever seen.

Our drive over took us up the glorious Eyjafjurthur one last time, and the water was still and glassy.

We had not gotten very far before we came across the Gothafoss (and I nearly drove us into a ditch trying to get us off the highway).  This would prove to be the third most impressive waterfall we saw that day.

A note about the name of the falls.  Icelanders name places by scrunching together words.  So "foss" means waterfall and is the suffix of every waterfall that has a name (the vast majority of Icelandic waterfalls are not named).  "Gotha" means "gods."  So this is the "gods-falls" because when Iceland decided to convert to Christianity, this is where the leader of parliament threw all his old idols away in a grand symbolic gesture.  See:

From there, it was a short drive to Myvatn.  We stopped in the tiny village of Skutustadir and hiked around these volcanic pseudo-craters.

It is hard to see in the picture, but the land is shaped by these pseudo-craters that were formed when a bunch of magma bubbled up under a lake and as the giant bubbles burst, the water immediately cooled them and they became rock.  I think this is the only place in the world this kind of landscape exists.

Then we drove a a few minutes down the lake to Dimmuborgir where there are unique basalt columns.

This is the only place in the world these kinds of columns exist above water, apparently.

Then we found a camp site and ate some lunch.

You will note in the above picture that the black mountain on the horizon is actually Hverfjall: a pristine volcanic cone that is several kilometers in diameter.  We hiked that later in the day, as you will see below.

Then we were off to see some hot-spots at Namafjall (NOW-ma-fyatl)

Magma lies a mere two kilometers below the surface here, and this leads to countless vents where steam shoots out and mud pots bubble.  It is loud with the sound of the glup-glupping mud pots and hissing vents.

The above photo helps to illustrate the incredible diversity of the landscape around Myvatn.  Steph is standing amongst the vents at Namafjall during our hike.  The ground around us is barren and mineral-encrusted.  But you can see that right across the highway the hillside is lush and fertile.  On the horizon you can see several more vents shooting steam into the air, and (harder to see) volcanic hills.  To the left of this picture is the Myvatn Nature Baths (see below) and then the lake itself.

By the time we finished at Namafjall, our day was almost half over, but we were not done having our minds blown.  Not by a long shot.

We drove about forty minutes to the Dettifoss.  The Dettifoss is the largest waterfall in Europe by volume.  

 The minute you park your car, you can hear and feel the rumble of the water that comes thundering over these falls at a rate of five-hundred cubic meters per second.  To stand at the Dettifoss is to feel the ground shake and to have you ears filled with endless thunder.  It was quite impressive.  The picture (of course) does not do it justice. We have a video, but I am having trouble uploading it at the moment.

Dettifoss is in the "glacier-shadow" of Vatnajokull (the largest glacier outside the polar regions) which creates a unlikely desert in the north-east corner of Iceland.  So surrounding the Dettifoss is a vast desert reminiscent of Joshua Tree National Park.  However, the Dettifoss is so big that the mist from the falls creates its own ecosystem: a strip of lush green life that stretches for several kilometers down the west bank. 

Notice how the far side of the falls is utterly barren, like the surface of the moon, while the near side is green.  For perspective, you may also be able to see the tiny specks that are the people on the other side. 

Just up the river from Dettifoss is another crummy waterfall call the Selfoss.  If it was not dwarfed by is big brother down stream, the Selfoss would almost certainly be an attraction in its own right.

On our way back to camp, we stopped off at the Myvatn Nature Baths, which is a smaller (and cheaper) version of the Blue Lagoon resort.  Stephanie aptly compared being in this silicate-rich, milky-blue water to swimming in lotion.  It was unbelievable.

We need one of these at our house.

The day was long and we were feeling relaxed and drowsy by the time we got back to our tent.  But as we ate our dinner of Icelandic hot dogs, red onion, and couscous prepared on our campstove, Hverfjall loomed above us.  In the end, we decide that one more one-in-a-lifetime excursion was necessary.  So around 9pm we poured some wine into our travel mugs and climbed to the top of Hverfjall.  It's not every day that you have the chance to stand on the lip of one of the most pristine volcanic cones on earth.

Saturday, July 30 was a good day. 

Random Obverservations Volume Three: Sheep

Besides sea-creatures, birds, and dragons, Iceland has two species of wildlife: arctic foxes and reindeer.

We never saw either except at the Vatnajokull Glacier "Exhibition" (which is what they call most museums).

However, the line between wild and tame, between public and private is much more blurry there.  So the livestock (horses, sheep, and cows) seem a bit like wild animals.  For one thing, they roam wild and free.

 And they just look a bit wild compared to our sheep.  These are no fluffy puff balls, they are nappy, gnarled survivors. 

There are approximately twice as many sheep in Iceland as there are people.  Icelanders eat the sheep, eat their dairy, and they make clothes from the wool.  They are the only dependable farmed good.  There are far less cows and almost no planted crops (except a few fields of "salad" which is what they call lettuce). Besides hamburgers, you will rarely find beef on the menu, always lamb and fish.

We noticed that Icelandic sheep don't seem to have quite the same herd mentality of US sheep.  They seem to favor the small family unit (a ewe with two lambs) instead.

You will see a lot more black sheep in Iceland, that is because they eat them.  So even if the wool is no good, they will fatten them up for slaughter.

Icelandic wool is everywhere, and not just on tourists.  It is rare to see a local not wearing at least one item of home-knit wool. 

Locals knit wool and sell it on consignment all over the place.  So you will walk into a gas station and see some gloves and socks hanging there.  When you check the tag, it takes a moment to recover from the shock of the price, but then you notice that each tag has the name of a local hand written on there.

We bought a couple items, but could not bring ourselves to cough up the king's ransom necessary to acquire a sweater.  We had to suffice with a hat, gloves, and ear muff.

Grimsey: Our journey in to the Arctic

The north of Iceland comes very close to the arctic circle, but fails to reach it by a few miles.  So to go into the arctic, you have to go to Grimsey Island.

Our boat left from Dalvik, which is a few miles down the fjord from Akureyri.

It was no surprise that the boat ride up the fjord was beautiful, but there were a couple surprising things about our cruise. 

First of all, the weather was amazing.  In fact our journey to the arctic was definitely the day we had the best weather all trip.  The sky was blue and the high temp was easily over 70 degrees. 

Secondly, I did NOT get seasick.  Before we left America, I invested in these bracelets that press against pressure points on the inside of the wrist.  I did not think they would work, but they did.  The ride got pretty rough near the end too, and I could feel my stomach churn, but I never crossed the nausea threshold.  It was awesome.

Thirdly, there was no safety drill.  Imagine a boat ride in America.  The long safety drill where they explain the life vests and stuff.  All they had on this boat was a brief video in Icelandic without subtitles.  This is so Icelandic.  They are a fiercely independent and expect you to be the same.  It is fantastic. 

The final surprise of the boat ride?  The movies. They showed Bridget Jones, and two Adam Sandler movies.  hm.

The picture above is the port "town" in Grimsey.  The island is home to about 100 people, a dozen sheep and horses, and at least ten million birds.  When you land on the island, you are still south of the arctic, but if you hike north, you soon cross over the circle on foot.  This is exactly what we planned to do.

Walking along the coast, it was not long before we found some puffins.

They let us get pretty close before they jumped off the cliffs, beating their wings furiously to gain altitude.  They were better fliers than I expected, but they certainly cannot glide.  They are like hummingbirds how fast they flap those little black wings. 

As you can see, the coast of Grimsey is mostly dramatic basalt cliffs, and there are puffins on the lip of every cliff on the island. We saw so many puffins that after walking a while I had to remind myself to cherish every chance I had to watch them.  

In addition to puffins, there are rare arctic terns up there.  We did not get a good picture of them though, mostly because they were whirling over our heads and mock-attacking us. 
Terns lay their eggs on the ground and are very territorial.  And part of the nesting area is right by the road, so we had to run the gauntlet of terns a couple times.  They swoop up behind you and make a loud, angry clicking sound.  It felt like they were about to peck out my brains, but thankfully they never did.

There were so many pretty wild flowers everywhere.

The island is two square kilometers, so it can easy be walked in a few hours.

There is an airport for small planes and a golf course (?!).

Here you can see the cliffs, and if you look close you can see what are probably the most northerly sheep in the world nestled in a nook right there.  We took this picture about a quarter-mile from the northern tip of the island.

Those cliffs where aflutter with thousands upon thousands of birds.

And you can really see Iceland on the horizon in this shot.

After four hours on the island we boarded the boat again and headed back.  It was Friday, July 29 in 2011.  One of the best days of my life.

Akureyri

Iceland has about 300,000 people in it.  About 250,000 or so live in Reykjavik.  The second largest "metropolis" is Akureyri with an approximate population of 17,000.

 

Akureyri was our next stop after our horse ride and we enjoyed a pleasant, short drive in nice weather. 

We stayed two nights, mostly so that we could catch a nearby ferry to the arctic (next entry).  But we also enjoyed a nice stay in the city.

It lies near the mouth of Eyjafjorthur (Ay-yuh-fyur-ther) which is a stunning fjord that we ended up getting some good long looks at from either side.  The culture of the city is somewhat like Laguna Beach in the sense that it is both a tourist destination and yet still busy with the activity of real life.  

There is a quaint little downtown area that was especially busy because there was a festival of some kind going on. 

One evening, we caught a little bit of a concert.  The crowd consisted of at least four generations.  Truly a community thing.  It was cool to see so many Icelanders having fun, being totally indifferent to foreign tourists.  I feel like we got a good picture of Icelanders being unguarded.

We stayed in the campsite near the downtown.  It was very crowded due to the festival, but the weather was incredible, as you can see.

This was our first time camping, and we were very disappointed to find that our rented camp stove did not work.  In fact, all the camping gear was of poor quality.  The sleeping bags and tent were like the cheapest, crappiest thing you would by at K-Mart in 1984.  However, we were never cold at night and the tent stayed upright. 

Our second night in Akureyri, Astrithur (who rented us the gear) redeemed herself by overnight flying a new stove that worked. So all we were out was the cost of a couple cheeseburgers... which were about ten dollars a piece and did not include fries or a coke.  :)

The real highlight of Akureyri was the Brynja!  This is a famous Icecream shack that is located in the non-touristy residential district. I got directions from a local and asked him if it was really good, or was this just a thing foreigners did in Akureyri.  He replied, "Let's put it like this: I have lived here my whole life, and I have never even tasted other ice cream.  Why would I, when I have the Brynja." 

It lived up to the hype.  It was delicious and truly unique. I think one of the things that makes everything in Iceland taste so amazing and unique is the water.  The water that they use to make everything is a thousand times better than any other water that I have ever tasted.

The other highlite was the public pools.  I do not have a good picture of the pools, because they make it hard to get a camera in... and it wouldn't feel right.

The official national religion of Iceland is Lutheran, but practically speaking they all belong to the church of public pools.  Every town has one and it functions as a major civic hub.  Each has a large main pool that is the perfect temperature for swimming, along with two or more smaller hot pools, a steam room, and a kiddie play area.  Some of these play areas are quite elaborate with giant slides and fountains and such.

To enter a pool in Iceland you must shower naked, and there are posters that indicate exactly which body parts need to be scrubbed with soap.  Icelanders are utterly unselfconscious about about the nudity.

Stephanie and I hit the pools our first night in the city, and quickly understood the appeal.  It was awesome and relaxing. 

Random Observations Volume Two: Horses

You do not need to drive very far in iceland to see a herd of a dozen or more adorable horses.  I am almost certain there are more of these fellas in Iceland than there are people.

They are friendly.   This pretty gray one just walked right up to me while we were on a stroll near Lysingttadir.  And it is not uncommon to see a tour bus stopped on the side of the road with ten horses standing near the fence saying hi to the peeps.

They have been bred in Iceland without interbreeding for something like 600 years.  They have very strict rules to ensure this never changes.  No horses are allowed to enter Iceland from the outside.  In fact, if one was to ship an Icelandic horse out of the country, they would never be allowed to bring the horse back into Iceland. 

They are a big part of the rural economy of Iceland.  They sell in Germany for 3,000 Euros and up.  They also charge for tourists to ride them, and (brace yourself) they even eat them.

Sveiner weeds out the less desirable horses from his herd by slaughtering them for food, and this is very typical.

Despite the fact that horses are sometimes dinner, icelanders take have a real fondness for their horses and treat them very well.

Icelandic horses are among the cutest possible things.  They are shaggy and small and come in a wide variety of colors and patterns. 

 Most horse breeds of horses have typical color patterns but this does not seem to be the case with Icelandic horses. 

Our guide Jasmine told us that the most prized pattern is dark body (gray, brown or black) with puffy blond mane.  I have never seen this pattern on other horses, and it is very striking.  

But they are all cute.  And friendly like Labradors too.

They are also very tough.  As we drove around the island we fairly frequently found ourselves in wild winds  and torrential rains.  And just about the time I would become concerned that the winds might blow our tiny car clear off the road, I would look out the window and see a herd of unflappable horses grazing in the gale, their bushy manes flying wildly, but otherwise utterly undisturbed. 

You have never seem anything as casual as a tough little Icelandic horse going about its business in 50mph  winds.  It is as though while eating breakfast with a tornado in their kitchen, they not only still butter their bread, but they also say please when they ask for a second helping of skyr.

Icelandic horses also have a unique gate that other horses do not have.  It is called a tolt, and it is like a smooth, fast trot.

I miss looking out my car and seeing these ubiquitous beautiful creatures.