Iceland

Selfoss - Gulfoss - Geyser - Skalholt - Hofn - Akureyri - Hvammstangi - Vogar

Iceland flag as adopted in 1944 on independence

Vatnajokull Icesheet (over Skalafellsjokull), ice to the horizon

The myth goes that green Iceland was named after the ice to dissuade visitors from the land of milk and honey, whereas Greenland was named to draw visitors to the harsh ice sheet. Partly true, actually the Viking Floki "The Raven" Vilgerdarson coined the name Iceland in frustration; arrived in a western fjord one summer and enjoying the lush conditions and fishing, but he and his people made inadequate stock for the harsh winter and suffered badly through it.  In spring he climbed the heights of the fjord and all he saw was ice (maybe Dranjgjokull) and he returned to Norway spreading wicked stories of the harsh pace called Iceland.  His people were a bit more upbeat about their memories of the place and even he softened eventually as returning for good.  In Greenland’s case, the name was genuine case of “Greenwashing” by Erik the Red, who was exiled from Iceland for murder and found his home on the northwestern ice sheet.  

Iceland is a young land both geologically and in human habitation, as one can count on the toes and fingers of the two first settlers, brothers Ingolfur and Hjorleifur, the forty, or so, generations which have lived in Iceland since they first settle in 973AD.  As usual in expansion, there was a carrot and a stick; the brothers got in trouble in Norway and had to leave, and the drum beat of positive storied about Iceland from transient visitors were laced with milk and honey.  One can question whether they were really the first settlers, as many peoples had visited the island for centuries prior and many stayed for a period of time and even by 973AD, there were clearly some permanent inhabitants as indicated by archaeological evidence dates by eruptions.  Among earlier inhabitants were a group of Irish Monks (Papar) who were reported to have been living there, but left after the newcomers arrived.  However, no settlers were as strident as the brothers of 973 who installed a sustained human presence in the country.  The settlement expansion were mainly Norwegians, but recent DNA evidence has shed light on an unusual twist in the early human history of the country; although 80% of Icelandic males today are of Norwegian descent, 60% of females are of Irish or British descent.  It was known that many of the early Norwegian settlers had brought Irish slaves along (slavery was common, for example the Irish took St Patrick as a slave from Wales in the 5th century), but what now seems evident is that they also brought Irish wives along too.  There are few examples of such a clean record of a newly populated territory as Iceland; New Zealand, also a young geological formation and populated a few centuries later, has certain similarities, but less of an anthropological record of human activities.

The island itself is an accident of geology, a weak point between the estranged continents of Americas and Europe, which rip the central Atlantic apart as they move in opposite directions, allowing the magma from earths core to well up to form the island.  On view from seat 32A of Iceland Air flight from Amsterdam was Vastmannaeyjar, or Westman Island (Irishman’s Island), 10 KM off the south coast, a refuge for Irish slaves who revolted against Hjorleifur; Ingolfur would have his revenge.  Surtsey Island nearby was only formed in the 1960s due to a volcanic eruption, an indication of a country still growing geologically.  I could also clearly see the Olafusa estuary which drains waters from the most fertile part of Iceland, the Selfoss valley.  The hard rocky hills south of Reykjavik were also on view and the barren volcanic plains which were repeatedly replenished with new lava in the centuries after the island was first settled.

Westmann (Irish man) Island; Vestmannaeyjar, with view of main town under the clouds

Olafusa bay near Selfoss

Sveirluhals range over Kleifarvatn lake

Pointy Keilir on view from the plane; also on view from our cottage on last stay before departing

Selfoss (above & below)

SELFOSS - GOLDEN TRIANGLE

The drive from Keflavik Airport east to Selfoss, through the most populated part of the country was sparse in relative terms.  On the way we passed the capital Reykjavik, the settlement of Ingolfur who named it after the geo-induced clouds (“smokey bay”) which still haunt the waterfront today.  We also crossed the lava fields of the Keflavik peninsula, which have formed since the time of settlement.  My vision and expectations of Iceland was an extension of Norway (although I have never been to Norway!), but what I found on first impressions was more like but Canada, as we passed the RVs, monster trucks, wide northern ranches on the southwest plains.  

Our hotel in the countryside under Vordutell was overbooked, so they put us at the main hotel in Selfoss for the first night.  We had rooms with balcony overlooking the raw force of the Olfusa river being shaped through a tight switchback by the hard volcanic rock.  Internet was only available in the lobby and the chairs were full of people like myself; still finishing work while on leave.  There was a stream of campers, RVs and weekend packed station wagons emerging from Reyjkvik direction on route to the countryside that Friday evening.  I was expecting alcohol to be restricted and expensive, like many Nordic countries; the grocery store did not sell wine, but only low alcohol beer (2.5%).  We were directed to the government regulated Vinebun store nearby where we stocked up with boxes of red wine and even found Saint Clair Marlborough Sauvignon Blank (New Zealand) for a rice more reasonable than I was expecting.

In the morning we drove out around the mouth of the Olfusa river (which I had viewed from the plane on arrival) passing a stand of white crosses on the roadside under Ingolfsfjall hill.  I could not decipher the plaque written in Icelandic; something about crosses, memories, accidents, latin (Latist) and the region of Selfoss and Keykjvik.  It didn't mention war, so I assume it to be a memorial to be for road accidents.  The roads are in good condition generally, but the two lane roads near the capital and more populated Selfoss can get busy and accident prone, with people trying to pass slower trucks.  Even so, crossing the busiest and most populated part of the country seemed sparse compared with Holland or Houston.

The hay was already saved from the rich plains; after drying and turning under the sun, the majority of Icelandic hay is collected in large round bails and wrapped in white plastic.  We did later see a few in black plastic round bails only a field of small square bails in the north, but the Selfoss plains were scattered in white dots in the late July of our visit.  Steam rose form the grounds at the rocky edge of the Olfusa delta as we passed toward the coast where we stopped in the small harbor town of Stokkseyri, which was founded in the tenth century by a settler, Hásteinn Atlason, having good access to fishing as well as the fertile Selfloss plains.  Today it is a quiet town, the remnants of a fish processing plant half converted to a Troll Museum, art studio and music venue, although some fish processing still occurs.  The grave stones of the small church there showed the names of generations of Icelanders who inhabit the mildest and most fertile planes of the country and with access to the sea to boot.  Names tell a story of old Nordic culture, as one’s surname in Iceland follows the ancient tradition of being the first name of one’s father with the suffix of “son” or “dottir” for son or daughter (e.g. Ingolfur Arnarson is son if Arnar and if Ingolfur had a son Jorgen, the name would then be Jorgen Ingolfurson and no paternal line of ancestry would be recognizable).  Although other Nordic countries discarded this tradition and have taken on paternal surnames, Iceland has reinforced it’s naming tradition by law, allowing only those with hereditary rights to paternal surnames from prior to 1925.  Besides the Faroe Islands, the naming tradition is typical in Sri Lankan Tamil and other cultures.  If you want to keep it simple, you can just name your son after you, as I am of my father and my name becomes Patrick Patricksson!  Yes, there are many Icelanders whose names are common with their fathers, but females are not named in this tradition.

Memorial near Selfoss

White round bails most common throughout Iceland

Geothermal steam along Olfusa bay

Coastal house at Stokkseyri

Fish processing building gets a new life as Troll Museun, Art Studio & Music venue

The afternoon moved to the Heckla Hotel, more of a country estate in the plains between the Hvita and  Pjorsa rivers.  To explore the area I took off on a long run over 15 miles through the countryside.  I ran along the horse trails which sided the main road for a while up to Husatofir, then diverting along unpaved road to Versabaer under the Vordufell Plateau.  Across the fields over the Hvita River the gradual incline of the Hestfjall stood mysteriously isolated and inviting between the Grimsnes and Skeida Og plains.  Horses stared at me as I ran by and I passed the horse ranch at Versabaer, then turning toward Birnustadir and Alfsstadir, while being followed by a friendly Labrador for a while.  I found none of the pent up tension of the insecure urban dogs as I toured Iceland, but a more confident combination of beast and environment which enhanced their behavior.  A farmer’s wife ventured through the mowed fields in her Subaru taking lunch to the tractor driver who was making the most of the hay saving weather.  I scanned Vordufell for a potential pathway to take a hike the following day and found two approached, one via the large ravine cutting through the center and one more gentle but longer approach to the west.  Even on a slow run, the landscape changed quickly and soon I was rounding past Alfsstadoir, gaining sight of the high steeple of Skalholt off to the north, the ancient seat of Christianity in Iceland.  The early Norse were strongly pagan, with Thor and other poly-theistic leaders to worship, but Christianity was knocking on the door, with the Nordic fatherland converting late last millennium and the Irish and British Isles also bringing the Christian influence along.  When I returned to main paved road I retrenched to the horse trails which ran alongside, which was quite a cross-country feat, as they were deep and narrow, meaning that I ran knee high in grasses and had to keep a keen eye on the trail to avoid a surprise or injury, but the experience was strengthening in that I had to take a very flexible running position.

I stopped at a monument along the way which marked the centenary of an event July 8th 1907 which was written in Icelandic; later translating some of the words, it seemed to mark the beginning of land reclamation by the ministry and state.  The grassland fields which provide food to bring livestock through the winter months would have once been birch forests, the birch having long ago been cut for fuel or materials.  In fact, the landscape is strikingly treeless, an indication of the value of wood to the population over the past millennium.  Horses are prevalent in Iceland and their local breed is typically smaller than European or American horses and are often let run wild in the fields, which makes them playful friends when one walks of runs through the countryside, especially when compared with the docile cattle or challenging bulls one usually encounters in the farmlands.  The Icelandic horses come in many colors; black, white, brown, red, blond, gray or combinations thereof.  I must have been a strange sight to them running through the trails and a group of them in one field started running with me (See link, I was able to get only then end of video).

At one point along the horse trails I was stalked by a loud chirping bird with a long beak; later identified as a Numenius phaeopus, or Whimbrel.  It didn't look to be protecting a nest, but more of a cheerful excitement to meet someone and it followed me for a half kilometer, ducking and diving along the way and again on my return.

Typical Icelandic country road map; Above covers Vorsabaer

Farmstead 

Vorsabaer Horse Ranch

Skeletons of the plains

A round bailer in action

Curious horses along the roadside

A loud local bird; Numenius phaeopus - Whimbrel

Playful horses run the fields

Dusk near midnight, light remains throughout the night

In the morning I had to work, so I dropped Annette and the boys up to Versabaer ranch to go horse riding. They were impressed with the morning they spent riding in the tranquil farmlands under Vordafell.  In the afternoon we toured up the valley through Fludir toward the waterfall, Gullfoss; foss meaning waterfall in Icelandic is very common in place names.  The valley floor is idyllic farmlands, reclaimed from post ice age woodlands, and the hills surrounding are of hard volcanic or igneous rock, tough enough to stand up against the ancient ice sheets which flowed southwest through the region.  We stopped downriver of the falls to picnic at the impressive cascade of water through which the Hvita river flows, columns of tough igneous rock standing there in a matrix to keep the rushing water in check.

The farmsteads became fewer as we slowly climbed toward the waterfall and those that did brave the lean highland soil looked like stoic bastions of humanity against the background of barren rock. In the distance the outline of the rain shadowed peaks of Lognhofdi and the crown of Sandfell made the inhospitable scene more sinister.  As we walked down to the Gullfoss falls from the busy parking area, we would see a lower less busy parking area, so I let the family walk on as I drove down to this lot, from where I could explore outside the fenced area and I walked up to the falls from below.  Light rain mixed with the mass of spray which emerged from the crashing water and supported species of plants and fungus in the downwind valley.  In limestone, this waterway would already be underground, in sandstone it would look like the Grand Canyon, but here in Gullfoss the hard volcanic rock only yields a narrow channel for the waters to take a high jump to tourist's delight.  At one point the waterfall was owned by two local ranchers; Tómas Tómasson and Halldór Halldórsson (could you get more Icelandic!) who envisioned a hydroelectric station at the site, but the venture failed.  Later Tomas daughter Sigridur Tomasdottir gained a reputation for preservation of the falls and is recognized in a plaque at the site.  The hundred tons of water a second which emerged from the Langjokull Ice sheet and pass the falls have swelled up to twenty times that at full flood stage, but the rock still holds.

Conor at Vorsabaer

Annette back horse riding after many years

Highland ranch on Golden Triangle

Runoff through matrix of hard rock

Fungus enjoy the cloudy conditions

Langjokull Ice sheet visible in the distance

Lognhofdi broods under moody skies

Sandfell peak

The persistent white round bales make it in the highlands

Forlorn highland ranch

Constant mists arise from the abyss

Gullfoss from below (approach across the grass from lower parking lot)

Gullfoss from above (approach by most tourists)

The narrows downstream of Gullfoss

We drove on to Geyser, and an area of geothermal springs not too far from the waterfall.  We were soaked by the rains as we walked around the geysers and were glad of the hot steaming vapors which warmed us downwind of Stokkur and other boiling cauldrons of blue water.  The wet family had returned to the car already as I stood soaking with my Cannon D-10 underwater camera pointed in video mode at Stokkur waiting for an eruption.  The clear hot water overflowing the cauldron steady for a while would then get erratic, with a slight upsurge of withdrawal and a puff or a pant and finally there was an instantaneous lift of the water followed by a hot jet to the skies which engulfed the geyser with steam.  As it settled down and visibility came back there was another last burst and then steady again for a number of minutes as the waters drained to the hot zone and generate the steam which drives the behaviour.

We crossed west over the highlands to Pingvellir (Thingvellir) which was also being doused in rain as we arrived on the historic plains on which the early settlers gathered to enact laws under the Althing (Parliament).  Settler chieftains recognized the need to unite the country to maintain stability and avoid lawlessness and as they searched for a location, a farmstead at Pingvellir came available when the owner was sentenced to forfeit his lands after committing murder.  Thirty principalities of the island met for the first time there in 930AD and the Althing met annually for over eight centuries, through 1798AD after which it moved to Reykjvik and replaced a few years later.  Few artifacts on the plains to reflect the centuries of activities, but documentation in The Book of Icelanders (12th century) and other scripts support the evidence of the Althing, including selection of the site itself.  People would come from all over the country for two weeks each summer and live in semi-temporary accommodations; canvass covered booths.  Legislative and judiciary activities were the main focus, but it would have been a huge social event also.

Geothermal Power Plant

Grand lake at Pingvellir and historic plains

Map of Pingvellir

Old seat of government, the annual parliament at Pingvellir which voted in Christianity in 1000 AD

We returned through the rains to the old seat of Christianity, Skalholt.  Besides the transient seafarers who stopped on Iceland shores annually prior to settlement, there was also a modest bastion of Christianity located on the island brought by the Irish hermit monks.  The Viking settlers were pagan, bringing Thor, Odin (name of Wednesday) and other gods along with them, but their home country was soon under going a transition to Christianity, so it was only a matter of time before Iceland would follow suit.  Some chieftains sent a local priest Isleifur Gissursson off to Rome to get consecrated Bishop and when he returned he set up at Skalholt in 1056.  Early Christianity had a tough time against independent Chieftains, but eventually the Tithe (1097) was introduced by his sun Gissur and the powers of the church increased.  Holar was later brought in as a second seat of Christian power in the north of Iceland.  As the reformation swept through Europe and Iceland was tied to North Germany under the old lines of the Catholic Church it inevitably also came to Iceland in 1550, at which time the last Catholic bishop, Jón Arason of Hólar, was executed in Skálholt along with his two sons.  Although Skalholt is relatively plain by Vatican or Notre Dame standards, it's history is clearly documented with a record of each Bishop since it's founding almost a millennium ago.  The bones of Bishop Pall Jonsson of 13th century were found in a stone tomb during excavations.  The current church stands in place of at least ten prior buildings, mostly of fragile wood.  On display was a series of white clay pipes.  Smoking tobacco became popular in Iceland during the 18th century, but the oldest record of tobacco use was found in Skalholt, as the Bishops of the 17th century imported tobacco from Denmark.

The late evening weather cleared as I warmed up in the outdoor hot tub in the gardens of the hotel. What a waste of energy, I thought, as I watched the steam roll off the 40C water which was taking my body beyond relaxation into the uncomfortably hot zone.  Sitting up higher to allow my torso cool off in the cool dry breeze, I pondered the hot and cold of it and realized that they were using geothermal heat to keep the water warm; in fact, they pipe the hot water directly from geothermal sources, sulfur, minerals and all.  In contrast, the cold water tastes perfect, as it runs from a multitude of natural fresh water reservoirs throughout the watery country; glacier water is not actually the best to drink straight, as the violence with which it emerged from under the ice tunnels against the crushed rock make it a suspension of raw minerals, but there are plenty of calm freshwater lakes from which to draw.

Conor and I explored the long shadows and the fields around the country hotel in the evening. Exhausted as I was in the run up to holiday over the past month I could not induce myself to go to bed early under the glow of late evening light, sunset at almost 11pm a month after solstice and bright throughout the night.  Over a month earlier, on June 22nd, the sun would have disappeared for only 3 hours at night; a gift not be squandered in the Nordic summer, so late late nights and early mornings were the norm on our first days touring the country.  At 66 degrees north, payback would be in winter, with short depressing days.

New church at Skalholt, bland but imposing hilltop legacy of 1056AD

French Gothic Chalice from 1300 found at Skalholt

Bishop Pall Jonsson (1211AD)

Well insulated against the cold wind, traditional Turf house

Old stone tower foundation at Skalholt

Monday morning we departed the Selfoss plains for Hofn to the east, after a brief stop back in the town to stock up on diesel, food and cash; alas wine would have to wait as the store was closed Monday morning.  Passing Hella and Hvolsvollur, the fertile ranch lands gave way to the flat Markarfljot run-off plains of the Myrdalsjokull Icesheet which were strewn with dark rock, mud and minerals from the volcanoes above.  To the south, across the gray barren expanse of tumbled rock and debris, and a further six miles of ocean, came into view the sharp profile of the Westmann Islands (Vestmannaeyjar).  The fifty year old Surtsey  Island was too var from short to be visible on the day.  To the north and east lay a menacing block of land stretching to clouds, forming the foundation of the infamous Eyjaffjallajokull volcano, whose eruption in 2010 closed the airways and cancelled my return flight from the Boston Marathon to Malaysia; I flew across the pacific instead.  A high waterfall welcomed us to the western tip of the base of the precocious volcanic, which a local has referred to as a "tourist volcano", you know, one explained; "Nice to see, but wouldn't hurt anybody".  OK, besides bring the western world to it's knees, I guess it wouldn't hurt anybody; but it is clear that Eyjaffjallajokulla is a volcano punching well above it's weight on global impacts, at least in 2010.  The eruption of that year send huge volumes of ash, driven by hot gases, high into the sky, occupying much of the 35,000 ft of air space usually used by the transatlantic airlines.  Due to the curvature of the earth and the prevailing winds over the Atlantic, the western route runs quite far north and Iceland is often visible from plains traveling from Europe to the US or Canada.  The prevailing winds also brought the ash cloud directly towards Europe in 2010 and on reaching the continent it deviously spread out for maximum impact on local flights there also (See picture below).  Flight cancellations were widespread across Europe and US, stranding passengers for extended periods of weeks or longer.  Concern over safety of flights was heightened by incidents like that of British Airlines Flight 9, a Boeing 747 which lost all four engines in an ash cloud of an Indonesian Volcano in 1982.  KLM Flight 867 suffered the same faith in 1989 arriving in Alaska; both flights were able to restart the engines after gliding down to 12,000 ft and clear air, however, all engines had to be replaced.  Many, however, believed that the European aviation guidelines were inaccurate and an over reaction; "It's about as useful as tits on a bull," says O'Leary. "We were supposed to go to the same model on volcanic management as the US or Indonesia, where volcanoes are regular occurrences. A 120-mile exclusion zone and you don't fly over the bloody top of the volcano. If you can see an ash cloud, fly round it, if you can't, assume it's not there."  Then he sent one his plains up passenger less to prove the point.

The peak of the volcano was hidden in the clouds the day we visited, but a farmstead nearby had setup a visit and display center with impressive pictures of the eruption.  Life went on as usual on the farm that year, while the ash spewed from the heights beyond.

A rancher's cabin on the plains

Westman Islands

Farmsteads and villages along the south of Eyjaffjallajokull

Footprint of ash cloud from Eyjaffjallajokull

Pictures of roadside pictures

Þorvaldseyri Farm

Some of the most beautiful green valleys and rock bluffs, from where waters of the Myrsdalsjokul icesheet hurl themselves into waterfalls for maximum effect, are located along the drive from Eyjaffjallajokull to the southernmost Icelandic town of Vic and on toward the Vatnajokull Icesheet. Vic is one of the few towns along this stretch of coast, so we stopped in at the government run wine shop, Vinebun, however, it was closed; like any well run government enterprise it advertised an opening period of 2 hrs per day in summertime (16:00-18:00) and 1 hr per day in winter (17:00-18:00).  The Nordic countries are well known for restrictive and highly taxed alcohol, but it is interesting to see it's effect up close.  In 1908, well before the USA, prohibition of alcohol was legislated in Iceland with a 60% majority, the law coming into effect in 1915 with total prohibition. The Spanish complained and protested the lost sales of wine by rejecting Icelandic fish imports, so the law was relaxed in 1921 and further relaxed in 1935.  Only in 1989 were the last vestiges of the law removed; however, only low alcohol beer is available in grocery stores and "off-license" alcohol must be purchased from a government run shop (Vinebun).  This is similar to other Nordic Countries, but also Middle Eastern countries (Qatar, UAE) and states like New Hampshire; thinking more about how countries restrict the ancient liquor, it seems to be more the exception than the norm to find alcohol unmolested by government regulations and few countries (Spain, France & Italy) where alcohol forms a free, natural and healthy part of society go under-recognized for their bravery on the subject.  Vic was a picturesque village under a rocky bluff facing south toward the massive expanse of the Athantic Ocean and warmed by the gulf stream to make a temperate climate.  Dyrholaey is a rock bridge which stretched out to the ocean to the west of Vic, but not visible to us from the town, however, there were a scatter of rock spikes emerging from the sea off land's end.

Departing Vic we traversed the strange lands of Myrdalssandur, which forms the 20km wide flat land run off plains for the Myrdalsjokull Icesheet.  We stopped where the scattered rocks of ancient eruptions formed moon like contours to the horizon.  It was all made more sinister by the gray-green moss which covered the landscape and grew under the protection of persistent clouds which were formed by the Icesheet itself and drifted east.  We pickniced in the barren midst of the silent rock lands, the distant white-black Kotlujokull glacier visible as a refracted shimmer over the flat lands.

The coastal plains of uninhabitable volcanic and glacial runoff stretch for a hundred kilometers from Vic to the east, where Vatnajokull itself meets the ocean.  For twenty kilometers inland, these plains own the landscape and few ranchers brave their inhospitable soil, but at the inner edges, where the plains give way to the lowland valleys, there forms a layer of rich farmlands where sheep and horses roam.  Toward the end of the barren lands we crossed the Skeidararsandur with the wide glacier, Skeidararjokull, visible in the distance forming it's own cloud patterns overhead.

The high rock bluffs which hold back the massive Vatnajokull icesheet reach the coast on the southeast side, and the road presses up against the dramatic landscape.  The widest glacier, Breidamerkurjokull, no longer reaches the ocean, however, the ice strewn river which flows from Jokulsarlon is a reminder of how recently it did so; surely during the last ice age the glacier would have floated it's long tail upon the dense salt sea.  As we stood in thick fog on the edge of the glacial river, the only evidence of the mass of cold ice nearby was floats of ice which stuck on the shoals on the way to the ocean.  The clouds lifted as we drove east toward Hofn and we gained a view of the inland glaciers.

There are few towns along southeast Iceland and accomodations were hard to book, but we were lucky to find a room for four at the Fosshotel just outside of the town of Hofn for two nights, although we had to switch rooms in between.  We bought take-away seafood at a stall in town and picnicked at the end of the Hofn peninsula.  Hofn is an isolated village of only 1600 residents, but it is ideally located for the thriving fisheries, as it sits between two large protected lagoons, Harnafjodur and Skarosfjodur.   Long sand bars and steep beaches protect the outer lagoons and there is only one channel which allows ships access to oceans.  The lagoons were still as a pond that evening as we hikes the nature trail back to town.  In the harbor the mighty vessels of the sea were preparing for their next venture.

Southernmost bluffs of Iceland

Descending on the town of Vik

Sea rocks at Vic

Green valleys reveal the skree

The wide Myrdalssandur; runoff from the icesheet

Moss covered moon like Myrdalssandur pulls one into it's desolation

Traditional stone and turf walled farm sheds

West end of Skeidararjokull Glacier

Skaftafelljokull Glacier

Riverwater from Jokulsarlon

Schoolyard at Hofn

Strand at Hofn (on Hornafjodur Lagoon)

Statues at Hofn

Trawler preparing for an outing at Hofn

Food is expensive in Iceland and $50 for family breakfast didn't seem like a good deal at the hotel, so we had breakfast at the gas station instead.  Iceland takes after the US and Canada, where the gas station forms a special anchor for most of societies needs; the older locals sit and sip coffee, while the youth rush in and out all day.  That morning we drove back toward Vatnajokull and turned onto a remote unpaved road toward the Skalafelljokul Glacier.  We slowly made our way through dense low laying clouds and were pleasantly surprised when the skied cleared higher up. The road weaved through steep rock bluffs and along flat terraces of glacial lakes and visibility disappeared intermittently into thick cloud banks as we made our way to the heights.  The glacier finally came into view along side our elevated bluff.  We continued to climb more gradually until we arrived at the research station, Joklasel.  From here scientists fan out on the icesheet to make recordings.  Tour operators also operate snowmobile excursions from the station and the cafe there was regularly inundated throughout the day with a returning group.  We walked around the patches of ice and rock to the edge of the glacier for a view up to the ice sheet, which sat on a plane higher up giving the driving force to move the ice rivers downstream.  The icesheet sat smooth and white, continually being replenished with fresh snow and any blemished being filled in.  Below the S-shaped path of the ice moving in a channel between high rock hills revealed the tortuous forces exerted on the solid which was induced to act like a thick treacly liquid; the surfaces of the flowing glacier are ripped with cracks and darkened with the ash of nearby eruptions, which show their contours well.

Although there are many tough igneous and metamorphic rock in Iceland, the rocks beneath our feet were crushed sedimentary sandstone, which was no match for the harsh glacial conditions. Large rocks, unhindered by any physical trauma, sat shattered to pieces due to the freeze thaw cycles.  The rocks were sharp as glass, not having had time or enough water flow to round them off like those of Ireland or Scotland.  I left the family at the cafe and took a fast hike up through the snow to the peak above the base camp for a view of the icesheet; the fastest way up was to stub my toes into the snow to gain a grip.  I emerged above the ice onto the rock ridge which itself holds back the mighty icesheet and had a great view across the smooth white ice to the horizon. On the other side of the rock ridge was a steep drop-off of cracked and unstable rock.  Not satisfied with the ridge, I made a move to the peak nearby, but fell hard on the unstable and sharp rocks. My hand broke the fall, but now gushed with blood over the stone and ice bank nearby.  It was a long deep gash and I was unsure if I had hit a vein or just flesh, as I pulled out my first aid kit.  The flimsy bandaged were no match for the wound and my attempts to apply disinfectant were pointless, as the blood washed away any traces of triple-antibiotic.  I pulled my long black scarf from my bag and wrapped it hard and tight around my wrist in the hope of stopping up the blood flow at least until I could return to the base camp.  Running down the snow in half the time to climb up, I met another two hikers who asked for guidance, as there is little to indicate how to reach the peak.  After giving them pointers and encouragement, I was off down the sloped like a greyhound for the base camp.  The red stained snows would have the hikers thinking I must had murdered someone and thrown them over the edge.  Arriving at the base camp I entered the bathroom, unwrapped my wound and inspected; the scarf worked well, as it was very deep cut, but I had not hit a vein and was able to clean it with soap and apply antibiotic ointment before patching up again in my tightly wrapped scarf.

We departed the highlands and returned to Hofn to visit the clinic there; stitched were applied by a tough nurse who could have been stitching up a pork roast or a salmon.  There was no disinfectant or cleaning done, so I was glad to have already washed it out with soap.  She asked if I had a recent tetanus shot, which I had, but also there is little chance a mammal would have urinated up on that ridge, remote and isolated as it was.  The receptionist was confused as to whether I should pay for the service, or if it would be free as for the locals; she looked up her list of countries in their health agreement, but apparently Ireland was not on the list, so I paid about Euro 50, which was still a bargain.  We picked up better bandages at the drug store and took a drive out to Stokknes, the eastern tip of the region.  A modern radar tower in the shape of a large gold ball gives sits at land's end and gives a sinister reminder of Iceland's remote, but critical position among the warring countries of the last century.  US forces set up base on the west at Keflavik in 1941 to support transport of troops entering World War II and US presence remained during the cold war; the US 933rd Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron was based at Stokksnes from 1955 to 1960 and I wonder of the massive concrete block foundations left behind were to support their communication's towers, but no evidence remains.

As we returned to Hofn that evening, I stopped in at the gas station to buy some ice; I got a strange look from the attendant, and started to realize what a strange question I had asked, considering all of the snow and Ice we had seen all day.  Asked politely why I needed the ice, I said for a “cooler” to keep food cold, for example.  She replayed that they had none and I left ,embarrassed for asking for ice in a country like Iceland; sure the fisherman nearby run large ammonia ice machine for the fisheries, but asking for a bag of ice in Iceland is like asking for a bag of rocks in Utah.

Concrete hardened east Iceland farmstead

Shattered sharp sandstone of the peaks

Poured concrete houses withstand Icelandic weather, but are no longer in aesthetic style

Glass buoys at Hofn

Foundations of transatlantic war, peace and suspicion left behind

We faced our longest day drive up the east coast and across the inland route from Hofn to Akureyri.  Bypassing Stokksnes via a mountain tunnel, we proceeded up the coast through the renowned Lon valley delta and lagoon.  A well managed farmstead could produce richly in this valley, but it would be an isolated existence indeed.  The sun and wind both vied for attention the day of our traverse across the Lon, but one got the impression that the sun was a fickle friend and more often than not, the Vatnajokull ice induces a vail of cloud over the delta.  Hvalnes forms another sharp headland at the end of the Lon lagoon, similar to  that at Stokksnes.  A long band of volcanic sand beach takes the brunt of Atlantic forces, protecting the lagoon and wetlands behind.  Geology of the island does not stop at the water's edge, and the Lonsdjup valley continues sub sea to a distance of 50KM, the point to which ancient glaciers would have forged their charge to the real abyss at the edge of the continental shelf.  The drive along the east coast, through headland, lagoon and inland valleys was of exceptional beauty.  We stopped in the town of Djupivogur, where polished granite eggs installed by artist Sigurður Guðmundsson in 2009 don the harbor front.  Rusty tanks and cars also clad the old fishing village located out on an eastern headland between two fjords which were wind ripped with whitecaps on the day of our visit.  The town also has the high temperature record for Iceland, that of 87F set in 1939, probably driven by hot dry air descending from the desert like northern highlands, through which we would drive on our route to Akureyri.  The wind whisked up whitecaps for most of the ten miles distance the Berufjordur fjord stretched inland from where we diverted along unpaved roads for the inland route to Egilsstadir.  We ascended a harsh glacial valley walled in by hard granite edges which leaked water from the plateaus above in vertical streams down the rock.  The wind funneled up the valley and was forced up the shear rock faces lifting the streams back into the air in a spray, the waterfall itself disappearing. Low cloud draped the dull highland pass of Oxi and we made our way north, descending into more fertile farm valleys and along the Lagarfljot lake, which spanned all the way to Egilsstadir.

Lon lagoon

Seabirds tough out the harsh conditions of ease Iceland fjords.

Eggs of Djupivogur

Egg of Djupivogur with Streitishvarf head in background

Winds howled up the glacial valley lifting even the waterfalls from their descent

One of thousands on wonderful waterfalls which drain the Vatnajokull

We picked up some food at Egilsstadir to picnic, but drove on to make time on the long day's drive, with hope of finding a picnic spot later on.  We left the sunny green plains of Hroarstunga through the hauntingly sparse Hofteigur valley we our curiosity was taken by the large isolated farmsteads, which stood as evidence of the independent Icelandic farmers who have crafted their homes and farms as a bastion of self sufficiency in the remote valleys around the country.  Among the few house and farm buildings were typically a church and graveyard, filled with generations of the family line.  Surely a lonely existence a youth in the countryside miles from school and community.  We passed the last lonely farm house up the valley, which was derelict and inviting us explore the stories of it's empty concrete halls, but we had to keep driving to the inner highlands. The temperature dropped noticeably, the wind whipped up and the clouds descended as we crossed the moon bleak Modrulalsfjallgardar hills.  Through the low visibility the steady guide of rock pile markers which ran alongside the road provided some reassurance one would not loose the way in the winter snows.   As the road meandered through the foggy high plateau, the rock markers ran a straight line unhindered by the terrain.  We continued to postpone our picnic, as it was now 4C with a 30MPH wind and no shelter.  We were hoping for better conditions and a picnic table as we descended to the Jokulsa a Fjollum river which drains the Vatnajokull icesheet on the north side, but the conditions were ferocious there, so we continued toward Reykjahlid, where the cloud lifted, but then new clouds appeared from the ground .
We stopped to walk the boil pits of geothermal activity which spewed wet steam from their sulfurous rocky cauldrons.  The warmth of the iron red and salt blue water pools sat inviting one for a dip in the cold north Iceland air, but caution prevailed when viewing the tortuous underwater channels and caverns which lead to earths interior and the pathways for it's energy to leak to the surface.  A little further along we stopped to view the Myvatn geothermal power plant which sat beside an unnatural looking milky blue lake.  We circled north around the Myvatn lake and stopped at a small peninsula to picnic.  The weather was better, but still bitterly cold, so we sat in the car admiring the lake and then the boys got out to play on the volcanic ash piled up along the shore.  Continuing west the landscape became more hospitable as we headed toward Akureyri.  A car museum was advertised at Ystafell, to which I would have detoured, but the family voted to proceed to our countryside hotel instead, to which we soon arrived.

One of hundreds of stone piles which mark the straight way across the highlands

Yellow sulfur crusts the steam channels from geothermal

Myvatn Geopower plant

Geothermal Power Plant Myvatn

Blue Lake at Myvatn

Runoff from Lake Myvatn

Lonely and derelict on the highlands

A glimmer of color and brightness after the dull interior highlands

Fossholl

Light beams on Ljosavatn valley

Night sundown across Eyjafjordur

Krista Mountain behind Akureyri

Our hotel was located in the country fields along the Eyjafjordur bay about 12 miles outside the largest northern town of Akureyri and had a great evening view west to the mountain peaks behind the city.  To the north the late night sun beamed over outer peninsulas as I walked the fields and along the rocky coastline while the hardy seabirds screamed overhead.  In the morning we drove through Akureyri and out the peninsula to Dalvic and out around the headland until we were halted at the entrance to a tunnel.  It was narrow, one way and miles long; the only problem was that the right of way was with from the other side of the tunnel indicated by a black arrow and our direction was marked with  red arrow.  Not sure how this worked, I drove slowly into the tunnel, but could not see any turnouts, so backed out to wait for a local to see how this was done.  Soon I was following another car through and found regular turnouts every quarter kilometer, which allowed us to pull in when we saw the lights from oncoming direction.  After a long drive through the dark, we emerged at the fishing village of Olafjodur.  We passed through two more tunnels, which were both bi-directional and after a total length of 21 kilometers in the three tunnels of the headland we emerged at Siglufjodur, the herring capital of the north.  Originally fished by land based nets, herring fisheries were developed in larger scale by the Norwegian fleet of trawlers late 19th century with mixed results.  Early 20th century a new start was made by the Norwegians which also helped develop the local Icelanders into large scale fishermen.  By 1916 the Icelanders outpaced the Norwegians and Siglafjodur was the center of processing of the catch by drying, salting and loading into barrels for export to Europe.  Titans of the herring were built, including Oskar Halldorsson who owned ships and processing plants at Siglafhodur.
Across the bay the German Evanger brothers had set up a successful processing plant which was the most advanced of the time, but was later wiped out by an avalanche.  Fishing boats became much more powerful and maneuverable with the development of diesel engines, navigation improved as well as net materials and the capacity to catch started to exceed the sustainability of the oceans.  The processing facilities became industrialized with boilers and machinery and good paying jobs for the time.  Boarding houses with four to a room sprung up to house the laborers, both men and women.  Decades later electronic navigation and ocean scanning techniques allowed the trawlers find the fish better and with no place to hide the very source of prosperity collapsed by the 1970's.  At one time herring export accounted for up to a third of Iceland's exports but is much less today as is evident also in the town of Siglufjodur, which still does some fishing, but at a more moderate pace that in the hay day.  A museum complex of buildings records the century of prosperity some of which is recorded by local photos (available online).  In the harbor a large trawler ship was being preparing for departure as family members of the crew came by to say good bye and later we watched the battered but tough ocean vessel be guided by a tug boat from the port.  A house museum stands dedicated to the music of Reverend Bjarnie Thorsteinsson a local priest who composed and collected traditional Icelandic music.  On display where traditional instruments and personal effects of the famous Icelander were on display.  The visit was worth it, at least for the free coffee to warm up, and I bought some traditional music to get more familiar with traditional Iceland music.  Up on the hill the Lutheran Church stood calling for a visit also, having being built in the 1930s at the height of the herring years.  Driving north of the town to the headland of the fjord we had a view of the farmstead lands of the first inhabitant of the area, Thormodur Haraldsson, who left the turmoil of Norway and set up at Siglunes out on the east headland.

Carved Sheep on the way to market

21 KM of tunnels to Siglufjodur, both directions

Evangers Brothers which was wiped out by avalanche

Oskar Halldorsson

Brands from Siglufjodur stand strong

Laim at Siglufjodur

Speed regulator

The holy ones keep Siglufjodur pious

Two lane tunnel (21KM in three tunnels)

We listened to the haunting traditional songs of Bara Grimsdottir on our return trip, stopping in at Olafsjodur for a brief visit followed by Dalvik, where we had not planned to stop, but were attracted by a sign for the Hvoll folk museum, which proved to be an interesting collection of traditional artifacts from Iceland.  On an island with such a clear 1000yr non warring history, nothing gets thrown away or destroyed, and a fine collection of the machinery, technology and utensils of a developing Iceland are on display there.  There was a special exhibit on Greenland natives who were planted to repopulate east Greenland by the Danish in 1925, but they fared poorly in the harsh treeless environment (unlike more hospitable west Greenland).   The Danes plan was to use the population to retain claim to the region in light of Norway's potential claim, but as usual the natives didn't get the best from sovereign policies.  There was also an exhibit on Jóhann Pétursson the tall man of Dalvik, Dr. Kristján Eldjárn a past president of Iceland from Dalvik and the 1934 earthquake which hit the town with magnitude 6.2 on the Richter scale.  Jóhann Pétursson measured 7ft 8inches and lived to over 70 years of age; as with many people with exceptional features, he ended up touring with Ringling brothers playing the Viking Giant and retired in Florida, but returned to Dalvik a man bitter with the world before his death in 1984.

Back at the hotel for an evening walk on the narrow rocky beach I observed the calm waters with minor swell washing seaweed through coastal rock formations as the brightening light of the horizon glimmered across the waters.  The declining sun brought a change in scene every minute, and the inexorable march to dusk, which lasts many hours at 66 degrees north, brought long horizontal beams of light across the bay.

We departed Akureyri with destination Hvammstangi to the west, but would plan a stopover in Holar, the ancient seat of Christianity of North Iceland, as sister to Skallafell in the south.  Derelict farmsteads dotted the glacial valley route through the Trollaskagi highlands, a reflection of the derurification of the farmlands which had once provide most of the countries output; the farms gave up their sons and daughters one by one to Reykevik or Akureyri and more efficient machinery allowed farms to consolidate.  However the old houses were built of reinforced poured concrete, which will not go away so easily.  We entered the Heradsvotn river valley which forms a wide and fertile plain, some of the richest lands of the north.  The location would have been ideal for development of the early Christian base of the north, no land was on offer to the church by the pragmatic and independent early settlers.  Although Christianity was adopted by the Althing in 1000 AD, the independent northerners, as well as many landholders throughout the country, were reluctant converts in light of the intrusion on their wealth and power which would ultimately be wrath by the holy institution.  Christianity was brought in for pragmatic political reasons, not some leap of inspiration, and no-one in the north was willing to provide the lands for a center of Christian power until 1106, when a farmer at the backwater area of Holar passed and donated his lands to Jon Ogmundsson to develop a sit for the Bishopship of the north.

The remoteness of Holar today, tucked away in a glacial valley of the Trollaskagi hills, but with an optimistic view down the valley to the Skagafjordur fjord.  The current cathedral, build of red sandstone from the Holabyroa mountain nearby, dates from 1763.  The bell tower is built separately to one side and the ground are surrounded by a dry stone wall, providing that ancient Christian aura of order and security in contrast to the natural surroundings.  Although the reformation passed through in the sixteenth century, as Iceland's link to the papacy was via Bremen, north Germany, the 18th century alter was salvaged from a Catholic church and is in a style more ornate than a typical Lutheran church.  On the wall at the entrance is a list of every bishop since 1106.  A portrait hung on the wall of Guðbrandur Þorláksson, the famous Icelandic scholar and Bishop of Holar of the 16th century who translated the first bible in the Icelandic language, a copy of which was on display at the church.

A religious college was part of the original church at Holar, but since 1882 there is also a secular college of agriculture located there in a large building behind the church, which quiet due to summer holidays.  Some students lounges around the common areas which house a small archaeological collection of display to the public.  An original traditional peat house was on display on the hill top behind the college.  The gable ends and windows were visible beyond the grass clad main house which blended into the green of the surrounding hill.  Inside the layers of cut turf walls were clearly visible.  Although the structure of the walls is mainly of turn brick and dry stone, many of the interior rooms were clad in wooden plank.  Turf provides a key advantage over stone or wood in traditional houses; it can block the wind by sealing completely, which provides better heat retention in the cold windy north.

Traditional house on the Heradsvotn river plains

Holar

Pastoral grounds of Holar

Guðbrandur Þorláksson

Alter at Holar

One piece stone carved water bath

Guðbrandur Þorláksson's Iceland language bible of 16th century

Entryway to Holar

List of Bishops since 1106

Bell tower

Artifacts at the college of Holar

Agricultural college at Holar

Wood clad interior of turf house at Holar

Layers of turf wall

Traditional house at Holar

We departed Holar in the afternoon, crossing the delta to Saudarkrokur and the Skagi peninsula through Blonduos to the Hunavatn plains.  The skies had cleared to a faultless blue, warming the dry afternoon breeze over the lush green of the delta flats as we headed east around the Hop lagoon toward Hvammstangi, where checked into a cabin for a night before returning to Reykevik.  The Sigurdur Palmason house of 1926 is the most prominent  building in Hvammstangi, a small town with a history of sealing which is preserves in the harbour museum.  A display of drying fish hung on wooden polls behind Palmason house and smelled accordingly.  Seal colonies along the skagi peninsula are accessible today as a tourist attraction, but the museum outlines a history of seal exploitation of past times.  Outside the tough seabirds along the waterfront swooped down around our heads confidently and aggressively protecting their territory.  Hundreds of tons of fertilizer were stacked up along the harbor wall awaiting deployment across the plains of the northern valleys which are sun rich in summer time, but constrained by the thin layer of natural nitrogen and nutrients.  Up the coast were more fish drying and a view across the wind whipped Hunafloi bay to the remote wilds of the northwest fjordlands.  At he westernmost part of those lands is Patrick's Ford (Patreksfjordur) whose name is attributed to an Irish community which apparently settled there in ancient times.  Walking the hills behind the cabin that evening I was mobbed by a group of friendly wild horses.

We departed Hvammstangi in the morning for Vogar, near Kyekavik, for our last three nights at a farm cottage by the sea.  A glimpse of the distant ice cap of Langjokull came into view as we left Hvammstangi crossing the Heggstadaness peninsula.  After two thousand kilometers in more remote parts of Iceland, we noticed the roads and housing becoming busier as we approached Borgarnes and into the main city, Reykavik.  We took the tunnel under the Hvalfjodur fjord, which descends to 540ft below sea level, twice as deep as Death Valley, before returning to the surface.

A fisherman waits for the bridge to Saudarkrokur to be built

Palmason building in old picture Hvammstangi

Aggressive birds

Stagi peninsula; northwest fjordlands in horizon

Coastal Rock along Stagi Peninsula

Traditional fish drying along the coast

Hvamstangi Church

Hills along Route 1

Traditional houses at Borgarnes

We would cover about 2500KM on our tour around Iceland, which was done in relatively short order, so we were glad to have the last two nights in a secluded cottage by the sea located near the village of Vogar, between Keykyvik and the airport, Keflavik.  We passed the giant Rio Tinto Alcan Aluminum works on the way, developed to exploit cheap electricity produced on the island from hydroelectric and geothermal plants. At the cottage, we had no view of the city or airport, but were blissfully in our own world where we relaxed, read, cooked and only took one outing to the museum in Reykevik.  The house had pictures and books of the owner which told a certain story; generations of the family members hung on the wall.  The owner was a sea captain and various seafaring items were on display.  A certificate on the wall identified the owner, a Chemical Executive and acknowledged by Marquis Who’s Who, an organisation boasting recognition of successful leaders and achievers from the US and around the world since 1898.  The evenings on the coast were an amphetheater of light and cloud, moving from angry later afternoons to bright back-lit evenings of powerful light.

Stones of the Keflavik peninsula

View over Reykavik Bay

Angry skied over Vogar

Our seaside cottage at Vogar

Keilir peak on the Keflavik peninsula

We were happy in our cottage and although we were close by the famous blue lagoon we decided we would leave it for next time, which we could do on a stopover on trans-Atlantic flight back to Europe.  We did visit the National Museum in Reykevik.  An exhibit showed the extent of trees and vegetation at settlement 900AD and today; needless to say there has been a significant impact, but it is still startling to see the effects described.  Most of today's ranches and farmlands were of birch forest in 900AD.  Today, forests are a rarity in Iceland and are less than 1% of the coverage of the time.  This is understood through the demand on wood and need to clear for farmlands, but the overall coverage of vegetation of the island has also diminished significantly, which indicated the "knock-on" effect of reducing biodiversity.  The recent history of Iceland is marked out by layers of volcanic ash, providing a better map of activities since settlement and the record of artifacts seem less confusing than other more populates countries with longer history of inhabitation.  On display were swords, fishhooks, stone and wooden tools, preserved in the bogs.  The early settlers were pagan of Norwegian tradition and worshipped the pagan gods of Odinn, Thor and Freyr, from which the names of the week days come in (Wednesday, Thursday, Friday), which disgusted the first Christian bishop of Holar, who tried to have the names changed.

Viking artifacts were on display, but mostly the settlers were not Vikings, but regular farmers who were squeezed of opportunity back in Norway and seeking opportunity in Iceland.  Apparently their women wouldn't come with them on the adventure, so they raided Britain and Ireland to take women off with them.  The extent of Celtic blood in Icelandic heritage has only recently been recognized by DNA evidence; 62% of women descend from Celts, whereas 80% of men derive from Norway.  The museum exhibits indicate that technology has been imported to Iceland for the past millennium, mainly from Europe, but then often adapted to support local conditions better.  Engines had a significant impact on fisheries and transport in a country with so many watery inlets.  In 1944 Iceland cut off from Denmark and founded an independent republic, but it had to struggle to gain relevance as evident in the fishing conflict with the UK, whose fishermen plied the Icelandic waters.  As Iceland extended it's territorial water range, as did other countries, conflict grew.  Icelanders started a campaign of cutting the long valuable nets from the British trawlers and they ultimately succeeded peacefully in regaining control over the territory.

900AD Birch area; gone today almost completely.

Iceland makeup; 62% Women were Celts, 80% of Men were Norwegians 

Ash layers from regular eruptions date artifacts well

Conor the Viking

Ht Heckla in church propaganda

An Icelandic calendar

Traditional Icelandic house; see where all the Birch went to!

Icelandic hood

An early boat engine, revolutionized Icelandic life

Trawler net cutter, an Icelandic invention

Early days getting around Iceland

Icelandic fashion, clothes for a wet country

A man from Iceland

DRIVING ICELAND

The drive from Keflavik to Selfoss and from Borgarnes to Reykjavik, sparse as they are in places, reflect the modern hinterlands of urban Iceland which account for a third of the population.  The two lane roads are busy and best stay within the speed limit.  Outside this small triangle of southwest Iceland is wide open country with empty well paved main roads on which one can cruise at 150KPH on the clear sections, although most Icelanders don’t speed.  As we were doing the ring road of the country in short time frame, we decided not to get a 4x4 and take a family wagon instead; this was fast and maneuverable, serving us well, but a 4x4 is definitely an advantage and is a must if you want to explore off the main roads.  The poor undercarriage of our Renault Megane was well battered due to low ground clearance as we toured the unpaved roads.  A Subaru Legacy is the ideal car for the country if you don’t want a large SUV, as it has very high ground clearance and 4x4 all in a family wagon.  Speed cameras are located near towns and always marked with a sign.

I was most impressed by the monster trucks one sees in Iceland.  Regular trucks and vans are upgraded with large axles and suspension to support travel over the raw terrain of the interior, examples are shown below.

Tour truck at Gullfoss

Landrover at Gullfoss

Touring truck at Pingvellir

Ice rover on Skalafelljokull

Camper van (4x4) at Djupivogur

Monster van at Akureyri

We departed Iceland August 5th on route to Bergen Norway, a city which has had significant connections with Iceland over the years of trading in fisheries and supplies.  The airport proudly recognized the travels of Leifur Eiriksson, born in Iceland to a Norwegian settler, he explored west to a place called Vinland, which most likely was New Foundland, but may also have been New England.  Of course, discovery is subjective, as travelers had likely been crossing the Atlantic on fishing and trade voyages for centuries before Icelandic settlement.  On view out the window of our plane was the bay of Olfusa, our hotel (Hekla Hotel) near Olafsvellir and Vorsabaer, the mountains leading to the small glacier Tindfjallajokull, but I did not get to see the larger icesheets due to the cloud cover.

Leifur Eiriksson

Olfusa Bay

Olafsvellir region

Prihyrningur peak (right)

Tindfjallajokull

Copyright Patrick McGillycuddy 2013

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Email: patrick@mcgillycuddy.net