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.

 

Kristínartindar climb, Skaftafell: Iceland tour Day 12

A climb in the mist to the rocky summit of Kristínartindar. 

I listened to the rain pattering on my tent when I went to sleep, and it was still raining when I woke up. Rain continued at at varying intensities for much of the day. Hiking paths S3 and S4, as designated by the National Park authority, attracted me due to the views they should provide down onto the Skaftafellsjökull and Morsárjökull glaciers as I made my way up to and down from the peak of Kristínartindar. Unfortunately mist and clouds obscured the hoped for sights. As I climbed the 1000 metre ascent there were tantalising views of the Skaftafellsjökull through the mist. Crevases at the front and edge of the glacier were visible as was the black line of a medial moraine formed from debris collected where two glaciers joined higher up the valley. I saw these by looking down over cliffs and scree through towers of rock lower down the mountain. 

The path had started with a pleasant walk through small birch trees, which was replaced by grassland higher up and then heather heath where a Ptarmigan eyed me, beneath its orange eyebrow as it slowly walked away. Climbing further I reached high, steep slopes of dark rock and moss, brightened by some miniature flowers. I stayed once off the path onto loose scree and struggled on unpleasantly sliding rock as I tried to regain the path, did not like to think of the ground dropping away below me into some vertical cliff. Lower down there had been plenty of marker posts, their yellow tips pointing the way. Higher up the posts were very few, but those few were essential to show how to navigate through steep gradients among the rock outcrops and loose stone. At the very top there was a pillar with a box (empty) marked "visitor's book" and a few solar panels, serving what I could not make out.

Near the bottom of my descent back to camp I diverted via the Svartifoss waterfall where water flows over columnar basalt in a suitably picturesque manner. Some remnants of 19th century farms were nearby with helpful information boards. Farming in the area had suffered from volcanic activity, not only the ash produced but also floods caused by ice being melted by the volcanoes erupting under the nearby ice cap. Such floods buried the once extensive grassland and led to people moving their farms up the hillside.

On my return to camp I joined a walk by one of the National Park Rangers. He took me to a tiny hydroelectric power station built in 1925 and in use until 1973. A small hut housed the turbine and generator (a propeller type turbine and a DC generator by the look of it, made in Odense, Denmark). As the hut was roofed with turf it blended in with the valley so as to be almost invisible. It was built with local materials such as driftwood as much as possible to save costs, maybe this was why the pipe up the valley side which supplied the water was made of wood (!) bound together by bent tie rods. Water came from a concrete dam higher up the stream, now broken in pieces, which directed flow into a concrete channel covered with timber, that in turn fed the top of the pipe into the hydroelectric plant. 

Looking down on the Skaftafellsjökull glacier.

Turbine and generator for 1925 hydroelectric plant.

Wooden pipe supplying the water.