Return home: Iceland tour Day 29 and 30

The ending to my tour around Iceland was made special by meeting my brother and sister-in-law heading the other way.

In the morning I visited the small National Gallery of Iceland. Best part was an exhibition of watercolours by a Swedish artist who worked in fashion for "Vogue" and the like. In a few strokes of blurry paint he managed to capture a person's expression or the swish of a dress. In the basement the video installations did not excite my attention so I was glad when my brother and sister-in-law rang. They had just arrived in Iceland and were staying the night near Keflavik airport. As I was spending my final night in Keflavik for an early flight next day we agreed to meet there. Two buses later and I joined them in their hotel in an industrial part of town which probably gave them a misleading impression of what Iceland was like.

Being near the famous Blue Lagoon, that seemed an ideal place to go to relax, for me being it was my final day and for them to recover from their early morning flight and the lack of sleep getting to the airport the previous night. After struggling to work out which queue we should be in, we gained entry to the warm, turquoise blue and rather salty water (it stings when it gets in your eyes), surrounded by chunks of black rock with bubbles in (solidified lava with vesicles). The area of water was larger than I thought and there was a free mud pack to try. Not sure it improved my complexion, it certainly made people look funny. Dinner that evening was at the Duus restaurant at the far end of town. We had a table overlooking a small boat harbour and it seemed appropriate to try the fish. Quite filling.

Next day it was a bit of a shock getting on the plane and seeing everyone one in face masks. Although there were signs with advice and plenty of antiseptic hand gel in Iceland, no-one seemed too fearful about the Covid 19 pandemic and face masks were very rare. Occasional cases were reported in the media, and the details provided of how people caught the virus gave confidence that the health authorities had the situation under control. In Britain things seemed to be going the other way with face masks now required in shops as well as on trains and buses, unlike earlier in the pandemic when there were more cases. I filled in the lengthy online form required for those returning to the Britain, fortunately 14 days self isolation is not required if you are travelling from Iceland, although no-one checked on my arrival at London's Luton airport. On my journey back to Cardiff, only half the people on the trains seem to be wearing masks, or rather wearing masks covering their face and nose. In Britain there seem to be lots of rules (that appear unnecessary in Iceland) but little checking and enforcement. It seems strange that Iceland does not need all the restrictive measures required in Britain and keeps schools and businesses running yet still keeps the number of Covid-19 cases low. I know the population in Iceland is less densely spaced but the biggest difference I noticed was being tested at the airport, and getting a response within hours. I read in the British press that we are even failing to reach government targets for testing in Care homes.

Update: The following day I visited a Pub in my home town of Cardiff. Unlike in Iceland where there appeared no restrictions, here we had to give our name and telephone number, were allocated a table outside in the car park, well separated from other tables, and only table service was available. Although they had beer their supplier had been unable to provide crisps or nuts. In the city people, three quarters of the shops and cafes were open, and people were about, a big improvement to when I left a month ago. One of the main streets had been closed and turned into a large pavement café. People dutifully queued 2 metres (sort of) apart and I had a very nice 50% off a coffee and sandwich at Cafe Nero, a government scheme to support the hospitality trade. 

Back in Reykjavik: Iceland tour Day 28

A return to Reykjavik for the final days of my Iceland experience. 

Not wanting to miss my flight from Akureyri I was at the airport before it opened. Apart from the white dome of one of Iceland's ice caps, my window view from the plane was again obscured by cloud. 

First objective in Reykjavik was to get my hair cut. The lady who cut it said all the British people arriving recently had "crazy" hair, a result of the hairdressers in Britain being closed until recently due to the Coronavirus restrictions. She recommended I visit the new "Flyover Iceland" experience, apparently all the locals were. I took her advice. After two introductory audiovisual experiences the main event was a simulated flight over some of Iceland's scenery. An immersive experience with the screen wrapping around our chairs which swung this way and that as we "flew" through the landscape, appearing to fly straight into mountains before banking away at the last moment. Fine water spray added to the effect during close approaches to waterfalls. Hikers disappearing beneath my legs as we flew over them made me think this was a quicker way of seeing Iceland than my long hikes of the past few weeks, however the colours were too vivid and there was no rain so not the real thing!

I bought a few gifts for my wife and visited the Hallgrimskirkja, the church that looks like a white rocket on a high point near the centre of Reykjavik. The columns actually represent columns of lava.

As it was my final day in Reykjavik I enjoyed an expensive meal in the evening at the Kol restaurant. Like many such places it was full but they let me sit at the bar, which was fun as I could watch the bartender tossing bottles around in a theatrical manner as he made up various obscure cocktails. 

Hallgrimskirkja.

Inside Hallgrimskirkja  a sort of simple, modern take on perpendicular style architecture. 

View of Reykjavik from top of Hallgrimskirkja tower showing some of the coloured corrugated steel roofs and walls.

Trying to leave Mývatn: Iceland trip Day 27

An annoying day missing a bus.

Today's plan was to catch the 14:30 bus to Akureyri then a plane to Reykjavik. So I packed, read and lunched on Arctic char with crispy skin, kale and mashed potatoes beautifully set off with mustard grains, lemon and olive oil(?) at the Gamle restaurant. At 14:00 I was sitting at a picnic table near the bus stop waiting for the bus. Close to the time the bus was due a talkative Venezuelan, who was also waiting for the bus, engaged me in conversation complementing the British "stiff upper lip". This did not prevent me from looking at the bus stop for any sign of the bus, including carefully viewing any minibus that drove by. Previously the location of my buses showed up on the Strætó bus App, but today there was no sign of it. 15 minutes after it should have arrived I went into the adjacent visitor centre where the lady at the desk rang the bus company, then rang the company they had sub-contracted the route to. They claimed we had missed the bus. I was told we should have been standing next to, like within a foot of, the bus stop and not nearby, otherwise the driver may not stop. As the next bus was in three days time the lady suggested hitch hiking was our best bet. My Venezuelan fellow traveller walked a little way down the road to hitch and I tried by the visitor centre. After an hour a German couple stopped, unfortunately they we going to Húsavík, but very kindly dropped me at Laugar where I knew the bus from Húsavík to Akureyri stopped. There was no sign of the man from Venezuela, he must have hitched a lift from someone who had passed me, good for him. The Húsavík bus arrived at Laugar at 16:30, and I felt that this would not allow me time to catch my 17:45 flight from Akureyri so I struggled with my phone to change my flight to next day paying the requisite change fee and fortunately not losing the signal part way through. I also tried to change my hotel reservation in Reykjavik, although conscious that I would likely have to pay for tonight under the cancellation policy. Maybe if I had arranged a taxi at Akureyri I could have reached the airport in time but I thought of that too late. So to recover from my gloom I am now in a beer lounge in Akureyri, sampling a very pleasant Icelandic beer recommended by the barmaid and a shot of some Icelandic spirit called Brennivín, flavoured with caraway and cumin it tastes better than some.

Around Mývatn: Iceland tour Day 26

It did not rain today, there was even some sun as I visited avenues of rock pillars, climbed a scoria crater and soaked in hot water.

First I had breakfast. I had rented a (basic but adequate) "Bed and Breakfast" room at the campsite, but the breakfast was in another guesthouse 20 minutes walk away. While eating my breakfast, at the next table a family were eating a meal of cucumber and broccoli with a few of those air filled, insubstantial rice cakes. I felt sorry for the pale children having to put up with their parents' dietary choices, they looked like they needed some protein and carbohydrate. Even if their parents had an ethical viewpoint concerning animal related food, the kids could at least have tried some of the smokey, rye bread, baked in geothermal ovens, a speciality of the area which I was enjoying.

Having had plenty of protein and carbohydrates myself, I confirmed at the enlightening visitor centre that buses were as rare as I had suspected. So after a little laundry, I set off to walk to Dimmuborgir, trying to hitch a lift. After several empty cars passed a French - Italian couple very kindly stopped, and even better they were headed for the same place. Dimmuborgir consists of an area of columns created when hot, molten lava flowed over a wet area. The resultant steam punch a vertical hole through the lava cooling and solidifying the material immediately around it as a column. When the surrounding still molten lava drained away the columns remained, as weird contorted shapes with a few arches and caves. Leaving this area, said to be a playground of trolls, I walked to and struggled up the crater of Hverfjall, difficult to climb as it is composed of loose scoria. It is a volcanic structure only a few hundred years old.

Next on the agenda was the Mývatn baths. I tried the steam room supplied directly from cracks in the rock, then enjoyed a glass of white wine while soaking in the bluey white hot water of the large pool. Idly amusing myself I watched my hands disappear as I lowered them deeper into the milky water.

Dimmuborgir.

Hverfjall.

Mývatn hot water baths.

Crack in the ground where the continents are moving away from each other.

Dettifoss to Mývatn: Iceland tour Day 25

A very long day which included a steep climb and recent volcanics.

Owing to the rain outside playing maracas on my tent I packed my rucksack (with difficulty) in the very confined space inside. My socks have been wet for a few days, and now my sleeping bag has damp patches although it is still cosy and warm, maybe as it is synthetic rather than down. I left Dettifoss before any tourists had arrived a little apprehensive of the route ahead. I had downloaded it from the internet to reach the volcanic phenomena at Leirhnjúkur. As there are no trails from Dettifoss to Leirhnjúkur the route I had downloaded crossed much open land, and I was concerned that it may be difficult to push through the vegetation or other obstacles. From Dettifoss to the Hliðarhagi tourist hut it was not too difficult, the land only had low, gentle hills, and although it was necessary to jump from hummock to hummock at times, the undergrowth did not prove too difficult. Lichen and mosses; patches of red, splashes of white, furry greens, brightened my way. Even the river crossing I expected turned out to be dry. The tourist hut was open, with a note on the table warning of bed bugs on the mattresses.

After the hut things became difficult. There was no visible path up the hillside that followed, at least not in the right direction, and at first the creeping willow and birch made it difficult to push through. I persevered, following occasional sheep tracks. After the initial climb, the main obstacle to my walk came into view, a long ridge its summit lost in the low cloud. At first the route followed the base of the steep slope of the mountain's east face, then near a gully, turned to go over part of the mountain range. The climb was up loose scree at a high angle, sliding stone and gravel beneath my feet made more challenging as I was now in the clouds with poor visibility. To avoid some precipitous drops in the mist which hid everything more than a few metres away I needed to follow the route on my GPS very closely, its author clearly had the benefit of better visibility to pick the best way up. It was slow progress peering at my GPS while using my "sticks" to gain purchase and push me up on the steep, loose stones, but the climb did eventually give way to a plateau. After some downhill and a low ridge the trail suddenly hit a long, straight fault in the landscape, which created a cliff where the ground had dropped away into the mist. My route continued along its line for some way until it found a way down onto a bank of snow. I was pleased to join a vehicle track a little later which took me to the sights around Leirhnjúkur.

The first of these was the Krafla crater lakes, the water an attractive bluish white hue with some steaming and sulphurous fumaroles nearby. Joining the tarmac road a sign said that they had drilled into magma at around 2900 metres (must have been dramatic) and that there were reserves of hot water at shallower depths. A power station in the valley was using this geothermal energy, this hot water to produce electricity. Silver pipes spidered across a valley linking wells drilled to produce the hot water (or dispose of the waste) to the power plant. Orange domes had been placed on the wells. More smelly fumaroles were nearby, a wooden boardwalk, slippery with a film of wet clay and in a poor state of repair led me around them. Steam beached from holes in the beige coloured hills, which contrasted to the recent black lava flows which filled the valleys beyond. 

I had intended to wild camp somewhere in this area but thought I could make the Myvatn area by 7 or 8 pm where there would be more facilities. The path to Reykjahlíð was an exciting one, crossing recent lava with a ropey, pahoehoe surface, with caves and fissures to avoid stepping into. While it was fun jumping from one chunk of lava to another, the path also slowed me down. Once off the lava I did speed up although there were ascents and descents to cope with and photos to take (no point rushing and missing the whole point of the hike). Approaching 8 pm, I arrived at the campsite. I noticed they had some huts, and given the wet state of much of my stuff, I decided to stay in one, a chance to dry my socks!

Moss and lichens.

 

Hliðarhagi tourist hut.

One of the Kafla crater lakes.

Geothermal power station in the valley.

Recent black lava filling the base of the valley.

Lake Mývatn comes into view. 

Jökulsárhlaup trail Ásbyrgi to Dettifoss: Iceland trip Day 24

A day following a gorge up to the giant and much visited Dettifoss waterfall.

It is raining on my tent as I write this, there has been drizzle from the dark clouds for much of the day, which did not show the landscape in its best light, a pity. The walk started well, among low birch and willow trees along the top of the cliffs that enclosed Ásbyrgi. Then, confused by a misleading sign, I took an unintended, longer path, which led me more directly to the gorge of the river Jökulsá á Fjöllum. I was following the Jökulsárhlaup trail, along which an annual "marathon" is run, the best time was 2 hours 3 minutes, it took me 10 hours 30 minutes! A large amount of turbulent, dirty water was flowing down the deep, wide gorge, in general the trail followed the rim giving a good view of the rocks and rapids below. I walked through areas of heathland with low creeping birch and willow, some heather and what looked like blueberry bushes; at other times the path was through rocks and ash. Near Vesturdalur there were some startling rock formations of twisted lava, before a parking area and campsite. On a sunny day I might have stopped for the night there and completed a few local hikes in the afternoon, but the site was almost closed and gloomy in the dull weather, a sign said you could camp if you paid the fee at Ásbyrgi visitor centre, 5 hours walk back down the trail! So continuing, there were further unusual rock formations, two rock towers in particular called "Karl og Kerling" were signposted. There were some wooden bridges but one river had to be waded across. Unlike a runner that passed me, I removed my boots to avoid wet feet for the next few days, although with the rain gradually seeping in they were pretty wet anyway.

Nearer Dettifoss a sign suggested you avoid the riverside path, especially if you had a rucksack, as it was steep and dangerous. Heeding the advice, somewhat reluctantly I followed a safer route away from the river beside a dry gorge, looking like a large "gash" in the land. The Dettifoss campsite, for hikers only, had no sign, just some plastic containers of drinking water and a visitors book. No-one was there so before pitching I continued to the car park thinking there might be an information office or sign, given the popularity of the site, but although there were plenty of cars, there were few facilities, just some long drop latrines. I followed the people walking from their vehicles down to the Dettifoss waterfall. I had seen a few waterfalls on my way up the gorge, but this was certainly the biggest, creating clouds of spray which merged with the rain, as vast volumes of water crashed over a lip of rock into the gorge below. A little higher up river there was another waterfall, Selfoss, more artistic with some of its flow diverted into smaller waterfalls on one side. With the visit to the waterfalls and some other diversions I covered 40 kilometres today with a 870 metre total ascent, a bit on the high side, but it is not much fun to sit around in the rain, you might as well walk.

Ásbyrgi.

Contorted labs flows by Vesturdalur.

"Karl og Kerling".

Looking up the gorge.

Dettifoss.

Selfoss.

Bláskógavegur to Ásbyrgi: Iceland tour Day 23

A wet walk to Ásbyrgi across heathland.

I woke to the rattle of rain on my tent, the same sound I fell to sleep with, and the wet weather continued until I reached Ásbyrgi. It was not the heavy rain allied with strong winds of a week ago which could soak you in a few minutes, but over a few hours it had the same effect. I was getting damp under my waterproof shell, my gloves dripping, my socks wet, damp patches spreading from the join between my waterproof jacket and waterproof trousers.

The Bláskógavegur was mainly a narrow path between low bushes that the man at the Ásbyrgi visitor centre told me were a type of dwarf birch. Patches of larger downy birch trees, but still only two or three metres high, straddled the path in patches, mixed with small willows. Water dripped on me as I brushed past them struggling on the slippery, muddy path. I saw a few sheep, who ran away on sight, and some birds, otherwise I had the world to myself. Fissures and cliffs, lying in a north - south direction were evidence that the ground was splitting apart here, as the American and European plates tried to separate from each other (I am sure there is some political analogy here).

Reaching Ásbyrgi just after midday I pitched my tent at the National Park campsite, checked out the visitor centre and had lunch in the busy roadside café. In the afternoon I completed one of the many circular walks in the area; up a cliff on stairs and with the help of ropes and then through birch woods. On a summer's day it would be delightful, or rather on a summer's day without semi-continuous rain.

Part of Bláskógavegur trail.

Climb up one of the cliffs that encircle Ásbyrgi, part of a circular walk.

Bláskógavegur from Húsavík: Iceland trip Day 22

Today I began my walk from Húsavík to Ásbyrgi, on the little known Bláskógavegur trail.

My bus was leaving Akureyri at 8:30 am leaving time for Google to lead me to a bakery open by 7:30. The place it selected was a building that looked very like the nearby offices of Avis, KPMG and others, but inside the pastries and rolls were laid out on glass shelves and a group of older gentlemen were chatting over their breakfast at a nearby table. After coffee, ham filled croissant, an Icelandic doughnut and Skyr, I walked to the bus stop. Arriving a little early I admired the nearby display of poster sized photographs on an Arctic theme. While looking at a photo of the inside of a ladies hut in the north of Russia, meat dripping blood onto the floor, I noticed a small minibus sitting by the bus stop with "79" and the letter "S" in its window. "S" for Strætó the name of the bus company. After the driver had squirted antiseptic gel on my hands I joined an older couple on the minibus. They left at Laugar, so for the rest of the journey I was the sole passenger. 

Húsavík is known for its whale watching trips, and people were lining up on the quay to board boats. After purchasing a salt encrusted ham roll I left town on a road going east. I had chosen this route as the current bus service ends at Húsavík, leaving me the choice of hitch hiking to Ásbyrgi or walking (a taxi was just too expensive to consider for just me). On purchasing a hiking map (which later dissolved in the rain) I discovered the Bláskógavegur trail, an old pack horse route, headed in the required direction, starting after a length of road. On the map the road was a thin line, I assumed a gravel road serving a few outlining farms but instead it was two lanes of new black tarmac. I walked along it for almost 20 kilometres, a few cars passed, and a cyclist, but for most of the time I was a solitary, insignificant person walking alone, dwarfed by views of lakes, lupins and mountains as I slowly made my way over a watershed.

I left the road to follow a track by electricity pylons to reach the tourist hut at Sæluhúsmúli. The hut door was unlocked, inside there was a table, benches, a double decker sleeping platform and a variety of mops, cloths and cleaning products. As it had been raining for a few hours it made a comfortable place to eat my lunch. I contemplated spending the night there as the rain showed no sign of stopping, but as it was a little after 2 pm, there would have been a lot of time with little to do before bedtime. So, cleaning away my footprints as I backed towards the door, I left to continue my walk.

From the hut I was following waymarks on my GPS that I had copied down from the Internet, these led me along the Bláskógavegur. Over the day I saw two signs for the trail, not enough to be helpful given the junctions with other tracks. At first I was following vehicle tracks but then the route branched off onto a path. Footprints suggested the main users were horses and sheep. With the continuing rain and the churning effect of the horses hooves I was often slithering on mud. As the surrounding vegetation of low creeping, dwarf birch growing on hummocks was not easy to walk on I was condemned to slide on the narrow sunken path. Although there were some low hills and patches of rock, lava with a ropey pahoehoe surface, the area was pretty flat. I was close to the rift between the European and American plates and I assumed the lava was quite recent.

At around 5 pm Àsbyrgi was still 17 kilometres away in a straight line, and with the path taking a wiggly line, I was not going to get there tonight. Due to the low twiggy bushes I had trouble spotting a place to pitch my tent but at 5:30 a grassy patch proved too good to miss and I made camp for the night.

As I write this the rain continues, I hope it will stop tomorrow but the forecast is non-committal.

Earth, purple lupins, a lake and a mountain with patches of snow beside the road.

The road.

The hut.

Inside the hut.

The first  weathered Bláskógavegur sign.

The Bláskógavegur branching off on the right from a little used vehicle track it crosses.

Ísafjörður to Akureyri: Iceland tour Day 21

Today I flew into Iceland's second biggest town.

This morning I packed and caught the shuttle bus to Ísafjörður's small airport. Travelling down the runway, the steep, valley side, its slight curve towards the base artistically picked out by lines of scree, emerged in front of me as the plane headed for it. Fortunately the pilot banked the plane slightly as the wheels left the ground and we gradually gained height as we flew down the fjord below the mountain tops. The landing at Reykjavik was not quite so exciting. I was only there to change planes for the Akureyri flight (in truth it was the same plane, just heading in a different direction). The approach to Akureyri also meant dropping below mountain tops as the turboprop plane landed at the water side airstrip, using only half the runway.

I walked the short distance into town and after dropping off my bags at the hotel, visited the northern most Botanic Gardens. They were very well kept, I saw no weeds instead some beautiful flowers. Of most interest was not the massed blooms, but the section of Icelandic flora, where I attempted to put a name to the plants and flowers I had seen on my hikes. Not entirely successful as the names were in Icelandic and Latin, but not English. I visited the tourist information office which was in a large hall on the water front, only to find it had closed a little earlier at 4:00 pm, but in an adjacent area I listened to a couple singing in front of tables beside a bar where you could buy drinks. I would have liked to have sat down for a beer and enjoyed the music but as so often I have found, there was no space, all the tables were occupied. Considering I was visiting Iceland in the midst of a pandemic, many restaurants and venues seem to be full. It must be very overcrowded with tourists at other times. I consoled myself with a beer at the Backpackers Hostel, sharing a table with some fellow focused on the football playing on the big screen. 

As I would be on camping rations for the next few days, I decided I needed a healthy salad tonight with fresh leaves etc.. Google directed me into an industrial estate, where I almost gave up as it was far from the main drag. However, Google was right, "Salatsjoppan" just sold flavoursome salads. It was not that busy, its location was probably why I was the only one dining in.

Some of the decorative flowers at the botanic gardens.

One of the main thoroughfares of Akureyri, do not know who the girl is.

Hornvik to Ísafjörður: Iceland tour Day 20

A climb over a mountain then a cold wait for the ferry back to Ísafjörður.

Under a cloudy sky I walked across marshy land, avoiding a yellow summer house with "private" signs, to follow the path to Veiðileysa where my ferry would hopefully pick me up. Soon I was climbing up a succession of boulder strewn "steps", towards a high pass. On the other side of the pass, a view of Veiðileysufjörður opened out in front of me, an expanse of water enclosed by steep sides of ancient lava flows, stacked on top of each other, shaped into a fjord by some ice age glacier. The path was now indistinct, lost among boulder fields and patches of snow which made for slow progress. Aided by my GPS and stumbling over rocks I recovered the trail on lower ground where three fast flowing streams barred my way. There were stepping stones, many slightly underwater after recent rains and coated with moss, but using my trekking poles for balance and to provide support should my foot slip, I was able to safety cross without  slipping or the long and cold performance of removing my boots and trousers and wading through. 

Owing to an early start I had five hours to wait for the ferry, some of which I spent looking at the plants and flowers nearby, which included common spotted orchids and some small, delicate ferns. A few eider ducks passed by me on the fjord, otherwise there was little bird life, also surprisingly little flotsam left stranded on the beach, none of the plastic bottles and remains of fishing equipment you see in most places, just a few stranded jelly fish, mounds of seaweed and some scattered mussel shells. The facilities at my pick up point consisted of a latrine and a two signs, one with a picture of a boat. So I completed a few exercises, read my kindle and became increasingly cold. As the ferry time approached I was joined by a few others, reassuring me that I was at the right place.

Our boat ride back to Ísafjörður was rather more comfortable than the trip out, crossing calm waters without too much bouncing. With fewer people on board I was able to sit down in the cabin, watching the boat move across the map on the captain's Raymarine navigation system. We saw the glacier coming from the Drangajökull ice cap at the end of one fjord, the white ice merging with the white sky so parts of the black mountain seemed suspended in space. Now I am comfortably ensconced in my warm hotel after enjoying a hot shower and a dinner of cod and lentils, feeling slightly guilty as others on the boat were heading for a campsite. 

Looking down to Veiðileysufjörður.

Drangajökull ice cap. 

Around Hornvik Bay: Iceland tour Day 19

Today, a circular walk around the Horn peninsula that lies on the east of Hornvik Bay.

Leaving the campsite I crossed wet, flat land, trying to avoid the deeper pools of water while not damaging the vegetation. I noticed some fresh fox prints on the path and then surprised an arctic fox, which bounded off ahead of me. According to one of the people at the campsite they had spotted several in this area.

At the far side of the plain was a river. It was sluggish, wide, with a sandy bottom and the water came up to my knees. It was also extremely cold. After the river I walked along the edge of the bay. Eider ducks were guarding clutches of little chicks by the shore, gaudier Harlequin ducks preened themselves on rocks a little further out. Yesterday, I had also been surprised to see swans. There were a few houses at the old settlement of Horn, summer houses I assumed owned by people living in larger towns and visited on holidays. Nearby only low mounds in rectangular patterns marked out where old farms once stood, until, defeated by the harsh climate, isolation and poor land, the families left for more rewarding habitats. 

I climbed to the tip of the peninsula and continued along its east side, high cliffs dropping vertically down to the turbulent sea a few feet to my left. Sea gulls effortlessly soared above me, and their many nests on tiny ledges of rock on the cliff's face. I continued, moving inland a little to avoid higher peaks and any scary drops, admiring the geraniums and buttercup, spreads of pink and yellow beside my path. Returning to the cliff side, where I met the only other hikers out, I walked down towards the orange lighthouse, masts and associated buildings at Látravik. From there it was a climb up and over a pass, then down again to re-join my outward route and a repeat of the unpleasantly cold river crossing. 

Where I crossed the river.

Eider duck and chicks.

Cliffs of Horn peninsula. 

Hornvik Bay.

Látravik lighthouse.

Ísafjörður to Hornvik bay: Iceland tour Day 18

At last, I reached Hornstrandir in the empty and remote north west corner of Iceland.

For the first time in my three night sojourn in Ísafjörður there was no pita-pata of rain on my bedroom window when I woke up to my alarm. It was 4:45 am as I had a 6:00 am ferry and dislike rushing my final packing and maybe forgetting something. I had already checked out where the correct jetty was at the quay, and inevitably, when I arrived 30 minutes early, no-one was around. Gradually hikers began arriving in their cars and congregated, eying each other's kit, at the top of the jetty, but quiet at this early hour. 

When the departure time finally arrived we boarded in a rush, our bags thrown below decks somewhere and were on our way. Although the fjord was calm, on reaching the open sea, the modest, one metre swell caused the small boat to heavily roll and yaw. Great sheets of white spray covered the boat as it hit each wave, dripping in where there were gaps in the covers. Soon a few people on the crowded boat were sick in the bags provided. I asked the captain if it was particularly bad today, but she said no and that it would be much worse on the way back due to the wind direction. Fortunately I was not going back today. A great deal of baggage was unloaded, and other luggage plus several children were taken on board at one location, watched by a curious seal, its head bobbing above the waves. Then we sailed to the next stop where four other hikers and I were put in an inflatable boat that hung off the stern, the outboard was pulled into life, and we were taken to the shore of Hornvik, climbing over mounds of washed up seaweed to reach the grey sand beach.

After carefully surveying possible camping spots in the area designated, I erected my tent at an arbitrary location and enjoyed a delayed breakfast. I decided to explore to the west side of the bay today and set out along the beach by the orange emergency shelter and the faint remains of ancient farmsteads. There was an awkward section with a rope to help you up and down (which I tried to avoid using on principle) before I turned inland and headed over a pass towards Hlöðuvik. My surroundings reminded me of Northern Skye in Scotland, the same geology of stacked lava flows forming terraces on the hillside, and the same wet and marshy land in flatter areas with scattered pools of water. However I do not recall seeing Angelica growing in Skye, here it grew lush beside streams near the sea, bent over and crushed in places by the recent high winds.

Returning to the coast I continued along a path heading north. As it climbed up the side of a steep slope I felt somewhat precarious as the ground dropped away steeply from the little used, narrow path, one footstep wide. Thinking that no-one knew exactly where I was if I lost my balance and fell down the cliff towards the sea, I decided to retrace my steps. Coming towards me was a brown, cuddly looking, arctic fox.  I stopped and he or she trotted up the slope above me and turned to stare at me. After taking a few photos I moved on as a sign at the campsite warned that while the foxes may looked unperturbed by your presence that may actually be very stressed. Earlier I had passed what might have been a fox's den. There were seagull wings scattered nearby, no doubt the remains of the fox's meals or that of its cubs, and there were "mewing" sounds from a cavity beneath a sheet of corrugated steel.

That evening I walked along the beach, looking at some of the driftwood washed up, some large tree trunks which I have read come from Siberia, spending five years reaching Iceland. Being July it never seems to get very dark, being so close to the Arctic Circle, which makes me feel that I am always snuggling down into my warm sleeping bag far too early, but then I did have an early start this morning....

View across Hornvik Bay.

Emergency shelter.

 

Path on uncomfortably steep slope.

Arctic fox.

Ísafjöður still: Iceland Tour Day 17

Another day waiting at Ísafjördur, waiting for a ferry to Hornstrandir. 

Still raining when I woke but today the rain, while continuous, lacked the power of the last two days and the wind was no longer blasting my face. Going out without full waterproofs no longer completely soaked me within two minutes and the weather warning has been reduced to "yellow". However....the strong recommendation I received was not to go to Hornstrandir today. Heavy and prolonged rain has meant the rivers are too high to cross and there are risks of rock falls. Safety advice can sometimes be too cautious, as those giving it cannot gauge the abilities of those receiving it, however without a knowledge of the area it would be foolish to ignore. Consequently I am now booked on tomorrow's 6:00 am ferry to Hornvik. I asked for it to be written down as I am having difficulty understanding how words are pronounced. My return will be from Veiðileysa on Tuesday at 17:00. 

This left me time to visit the Museum of Everyday Things, and the old hospital building. The former is principally a collection of aural histories of people who have grown up in the area and others who have come to the area from other countries, supplemented by various items and pictures. As a new hospital has been built the old one, dating from the 1925, has been converted into a library and culture centre, with a few exhibits from its days as a hospital. Following these visits I wandered around town photographing the buildings, some a 100 years or more old, generally with painted corrugated steel cladding and roofs. A container ship was being unloaded as I walked the length of the quays. After that, apart from a museum of accordions, in which I have no interest, I had exhausted the towns sights.

Needing some exercise I set off on a walk down the fjord, beside the road to the village of Hnifsdalur, beyond which the road enters a long tunnel. I walked a little on the old road which follows the coast, but after seeing some large rocks that fallen on the road from a fresh landslide scar I decided to return to  Ísafjördur. On the way there was a capstan for hauling in fishing boats and some sheds with partially open sides which I think were used for drying fish. They no longer seemed to be in use, as all the accommodation seems almost full, I suspect tourism is a easier and safer way to earn a living.

Early night tonight for my 6:00 am ferry tomorrow. 

Ísafjördur 

Some of the houses in Ísafjördur. 

Ísafjörður: Iceland tour Day 16

A wet and windy day stranded in Ísafjörður.

Waking to the continuing sound of rain hitting the window and gusts of wind outside, shaking the lamp posts, I contemplated what to do. The weather forecast had an "orange" warning of heavy rain with risk of landslides and overwhelmed drainage systems, one grade short of "red". This was in addition to a "yellow" warning of winds up to gale force with strong gusts around mountains. Given the weather delay to the ferry until at least tomorrow I considered over breakfast what to do. In my planning my fallback had been a walk over the mountains to a town up the coast. There was fresh snow on the upper parts of the mountain slopes and the tops were in cloud. Given the conditions I felt it could not attempt this without spare clothing, trekking poles and the like, which would mean using my rucksack, which would get very wet. There was also a high probability that the gusts of wind would force me back. I decided on a modest, low level walk up the fjord to the campsite of Tunguskogur, where I had considered staying and where a long waterfall was in full flow down the hillside. Well made footpaths formed the trail, which followed and crossed man made embankments designed to contain or deflect avalanches from areas of housing. The pine trees in places possibly also helped to retain the snow. On a fine day there would be good views back to Ísafjörður, but today the rain, and my rain drop splattered glasses, helped obscure the town. The campsite, when I reached it, was partly cut off by flood damage to bridges across what would normally be a stream but was now much more powerful flow. For this reason, and a blocked toilet and occasional gusts of very strong winds that may have damaged my tent, I was glad I had not camped here. I was also glad I had not tried a more ambitious walk as the relentless wind driven rain was penetrating gaps in my waterproof armour and making my next layer distinctly damp.

After returning to Ísafjörður, after a coffee and pastry at what I had been told was Iceland's best bakery, I visited Borea Adventures again. There were concerns about rock falls on the trails on Hornstrandir following the heavy rain. I was to check in the morning to see when the ferry was going. It was suggested I might like to try the local swimming pool. Swimming pools, hot tubs and hot springs seem to be very much part of Icelandic life so I took up the suggestion. On removing my boots at the door and handing over my money I was reminded that a thorough shower in the nude was required before putting on my trunks and entering the pool. I completed twenty lengths of the 16 metre pool and then sat for a while in the hot tub watching people enjoy themselves. 

Two restaurants I tried were fully booked so I settled for a burger joint. Not sure why there are so many people in town.

Reykjavik to Ísafjörður: Iceland tour Day 15

A bumpy plane ride into Ísafjörður where it was very wet and windy.

I walked down to Reykjavík's domestic airport, a short walk from the centre of town. Arriving there two hours before the flight to Ísafjörður showed I was unfamiliar with local practices, some were checking in less than 15 minutes before the departure. Paying extra for a window seat was money wasted as the clouds prevented me seeing much. It was a bumpy ride in the propeller driven plane, as we approached the airstrip near Ísafjörður below steep sided mountains but we landed smoothly if, to my eye, at a high speed. Leaving the terminal I knew there should be a shuttle into town so I climbed into a minibus at the edge of the car park. The driver dropped me in front of the office of Borea Adventures who run the ferry to Hornstrandir. Today's and tomorrow's ferries had been cancelled due to gale force winds swirling around the north-west of Iceland, showing a nasty shade of purple on the weather maps. I settled for a Saturday departure and a pick up from the north coast on Monday, with the possibility of good weather on Sunday according to the forecast. 

Although I had planned to camp tonight, the fierce weather could have compromised my equipment, or at least this was how I rationalised booking into a rather expensive room. All the accommodation in town seems to belong to the same group which results in a lack of price competition. Ísafjörður's main buildings huddle on a peninsula which extends into the fjord. I walked down the main street towards the far end of the town in the afternoon to visit the Maritime museum where I watched a film of traditional fishing practices. Given the hard lives of the local people who went out in open boats, I felt guilty lying in a warm room while the wind and hail outside rattled against the window pane.

This evening I ate at Húsið, a recommended restaurant, like similar places in town it was full but I managed a reservation at 9:00 pm. My cod in some (teriyaki?) sauce was excellent but the place was very noisy due to a large English speaking film crew eating there. The waitress had to lean close to hear me order and members of the film crew were regularly hugging each other or similar. Not very good for Covid 19 transmission. As I was leaving a local singer started performing and I wished I was staying longer.

Golden circle tour, Iceland: Day 14

Today I took the most popular bus tour on Iceland, the Golden Circle route.

Three sites constitute the Golden Circle: Geysir, Gullfoss waterfall and þingvellir, my bus ride included one additional stop, the Fridheimer greenhouses, which was also the first visit. The greenhouse grew tomatoes all year round, heated by hot, geothermal water and with artificial light for much of the year. Electricity for the lighting was provided by geothermal power and carbon dioxide released by geothermal water was used to increase productivity. Bees were brought in from Holland to improve pollination. A variety of tomato products were sold, I decided against the tomato beer!

At Geysir, the original geyser, after which all others are named, no longer shoots water into the air. Fortunately a nearby geyser has taken over, briefly sending up a fountain of water several metres high, every five or six minutes. It was surrounded by tourists clutching their phones or cameras trying the catch the moment. There were also boiling hot springs and clouds of steam to admire, along with rock created by precipitation of minerals from the hot water. Nearby was a café and gift shop selling the classic Icelandic jumpers and much more.

The path to the Gullfoss waterfall was behind another gift shop. Although I have now seen a few waterfalls in Iceland I have to admit it was impressive, both due to the volume of water and the way it fell in two sections into a deep and narrow canyon. Between the two parts of the falls, the upwelling of water in front of me illustrated the strong and turbulent currents.

Þingvellir also had a gift shop. There was a long cliff of black lava, and some deep ravines caused by the European tectonic plate separating from its American counterpart and a large lake. However, the main interest was historical, this being the location of the ancient open air Icelandic "parliament" and principal court of law.

Rain for much of the day and weather is likely to impede my plans to visit Hornstrandir....

Gullfoss waterfall, for scale note people standing on rock in front water at top left.

Skaftafell to Reykjavik: Iceland tour Day 13

A hike in the morning followed by the long bus ride back to Reykjavik. 

There is only one bus a day from Skaftafell to Reykjavik (or anywhere else) and none on Saturday. Fortunately today was Tuesday and the bus left at 13:50, leaving time for a 10 kilometre hike to the valley of Morsárdalur. The route I chose, based on the Cicerone Iceland guide went up over the hillside through small birch trees, pink geraniums and horsetails, still wet from yesterday's rain. After cresting the ridge the broad Morsárjökull glacier came into view. Once I reached the valley floor I could see another smaller glacier draped over the mountainside to my north.

The return path was over a barren plain of rounded stones and gravel, washed down by meltwater and floods from the glacier. Near the campsite I climbed to the old farmhouse at Sel. From there the multiple embankments built to keep the river and the floods from extending towards the campsite were clearly visible. The farmhouse itself, dating from the 1900's, was a simple affair, the bedroom with its cot like beds was located over where the cows were kept for warmth.

I nervously waited for the bus. If I missed it I would have to wait 24 hours for another one. Once successfully aboard, there were two changes to negotiate, one at the town of Vik, and another in the suburbs of Reykjavik to switch onto a local bus to the city centre. I reached my hotel after five hours on the road. One should not make the mistake of thinking Iceland is a small island!

Geraniums.

Mórsa valley.

The multiple embankments to the left of the river are flood defences.