Hornstrandir Part IV: The Way Back

The Wet Valley - Look It's Summer!

The next morning the Canadian couple camping with us packed up and headed out on the trail while we were still bumbling around camp, drying our socks, soaking up sunshine, and making oatmeal and chai with milk powder. We had planned out our hike back to Hesteyri the night before — we we’re going to go up the right side of the valley after our campmates warned us that left side was a nearly vertical wall of slippery streams, head inland to a pond, meet up with an old road, and then take the trail along the coast back down the fjord to Hesteyri. We would finish by walking on the beach again. It would be the longest hike of our trip, but still only around 17km and we figured the trail would have to be easier than yesterday. Perhaps we should have listened to the Canadians when they said there was no way they were leaving by that valley after coming that way from Hesteyri…

Tis the Season for Tart Tasty Little Blue Buggers

It was an absolutely beautiful morning and it began to feel like we might get to experience one day of summer on Hornstrandir. We headed up the small trail into the valley and pretty quickly realized the thick, spongy moss covering the ground was just as watery as the Canadians had told us. Our waterproof boots started getting wet halfway up the valley as we jumped over little streams onto squishy tufts of moss along the lakeshore, and our attempt to get to higher ground by leaving the trail backfired badly. It was just as wet higher up the valley and now we didn’t have a trail to follow. Luckily, we did find some blueberries. Everything looked so beautiful in the morning sunlight that our wet feet and slow pace couldn’t put a damper on our spirits. Not when there were tart, sugary little blue treats to pluck from the hillsides as we walked! It took us a lot longer to reach the end of the valley than we had hoped, and by the time we reached a slightly dry rocky outcropping part way up the backside we were ready for lunch. Everyone immediately took off their shoes and socks to give them some time to dry out before the climb.

Trail-less Hiking Up & Out of the Valley

We couldn’t see a trail from our stopping point, so after lunch we headed up the least steep-looking hillside just happy to get out of all that wet. Unfortunately or fortunately, we didn’t take a good GPS reading and headed too far south in our search for a less steep incline. Climbing out of the valley on slick moss and loose stones was a really good workout at any angle of ascent and the climb seemed to go on forever. Whenever we reached the end of one incline there was another hill on the other side — the least steep route turned out to be the longest way out of the valley. When we finally reached the top there was no sign of the pond we had been aiming for, but we did see the cliff’s edge and the ocean in the distance. We had hiked to the top of the sea cliffs instead of inland, but with views like we were seeing we weren’t complaining. Sometimes a detour makes the best tour!

We Found the Sea Cliffs -- Wait, Weren't We Aiming for a Small Lake?

Hornstrandir Sea Cliffs

Hornstrandir is one of the oldest parts of Iceland and unlike some of the more actively volcanic regions of the country, it has very little geothermal activity to impact its landscape (sadly this means no hot springs on the peninsula). For a long time, Hornstrandir has been shaped only by wind, waves, and erosion creating steep cliffs well over a thousand feet high in some places that drop straight into the sea. It is famous for its nesting sea birds in summer, and for absolutely stunning views when the fog and clouds clear. We were lucky enough to make a slight detour on a sunny day with blue skies and high clouds. We could see all the way down the Hornstrandir coast and straight across the bay to the West Fjords where we would return by ferry the next day. We’d been told the sea cliffs on the northeast of Hornstrandir were even more impressive, but the cliffs on the southwest were amazing enough for us.

The Manly Map Huddle

Bay Views from Hornstrandir

Signs of a Lost Civilization

After leaving the coast we started the search for the pond and a trail, and there was group huddle around the map and GPS by the three guys in the group. They refused to admit we had gotten lost and we set off again over the rocky hills. We did eventually find the pond complete with swans, but no trail so we used the GPS to head in what we hoped was the right direction. As we got closer to the far coast we got more amazing views of the bay and even saw the glacier in the distance. This entire part of the hike was over shifting stones and my ankles and injured foot were overjoyed when we did eventually locate a trail to walk on several hours later. It had been a long day at this point, and it wasn’t over yet. We still had miles to go before we reached Hesteyri, and at least one last river crossing.

The Last "River" Crossing

The river crossing turned out to be more of a stream crossing, and the cold water revived everyone. We even agreed that we were going to miss all the lake, river, and stream crossings when we left Hornstrandir. Sadly, it did start raining after we crossed the stream so we didn’t get a full day of summer sun. Happily, we reached the blueberry grounds a little farther down the trail and everyone made a dinner of blueberries as we walked. At this point, it was well past dinnertime and we’d been hiking for almost ten hours. We passed a man on the trail with a grocery bag of goodies heading for the nearest emergency hut to have a solo party, who was also taking advantage of the evening light but didn’t look too happy about the rain. Thank goodness for the late sunsets of summer on Iceland!

Bears Dressed in Backpacker Clothing Browsing for a Dinner of Blueberries

Heading Back Towards Hesteyri

It was not long after we reached the trail along the coast back to Hesteyri that we saw a sleeping pad near the bottom of a cliff that we later found out had been lost by the Italian couple we met back in Látrar. We didn’t see any bodies, so we moved on. Once we got off the muddy coastline trail onto the beach we were almost to Hesteyri, and everyone started to enjoy the walk along the beach to the finish line. We even stopped to admire some of the still and silent wildlife — giant black bumblebees frozen in clusters on Icelandic wildflowers and puddles of purple jelly fish along the shore.

Silent Bees in Stasis in the Cold

Chris and the Jellies -- Dead Jellyfish? We Must Be Near Hesteyri!

It had been a longer day and a longer hike than we had expected, but a good one nonetheless. We had gotten to look over the edge of the sea cliffs, had eaten our weight in wild blueberries, and had seen every kind of landscape on Hornstrandir from marshy moss to jagged cliffs to stony hills to sandy beaches once more. Our most epic day on Hornstrandir really became complete when we saw and photographed an arctic fox up close at our campsite (it’s still wearing its dark summer coat before it switches to traditional winter white). In the photo montage put together by her husband, you can even see the wily fox begin to “attack” one of our brave companions. The fox was clearly a grizzled veteran of campsite scavenging with a mean gleam in his eye, and we all packed away our food very carefully that night. While we were eating a hot dinner, the fox came within ten feet of our tent and just circled the edge of the camp hunting for a tasty treat we weren’t willing to surrender. We all fell asleep dreaming of fox visits in the night, but our sleep was uninterrupted.

Little Red Riding Hood & The Arctic Fox (Photo credit: Stephan Schiffel)

We rose early the next morning to pack for the ferry trip back to the mainland, and decided to see if we could buy another round of coffee/tea and pancakes from the summer house down by the ferry to celebrate the end of our trip. Of course we forgot to take into account that the hostel was more of a family summer house than a business and everyone was still asleep. To replace our pancake breakfast we wandered the hillside picking one last round of wild blueberries. I knew I was really going to miss having such easy access to one of my favorite fruits, but was looking forward to showering in hot, hot water.

Waiting for the Ferry - Let's Pick More Berries!

The water in the fjord was calm that morning, and the ferry picked us up from the dock instead of sending a zodiac this time. The boat ride back to Ísafjörður was so smooth they served hot coffee to everyone on board. We were on one of the last ferries of the season, and it felt great. So what if nothing had gone according to plan? So what if everyone said we should have come a few weeks ago? We had gotten to experience Hornstrandir in near isolation, something rare during the height of summer when day trippers, campers, and backpackers from all over the world fill the small ferries in search of some of Western Europe’s most remote wilderness. I can’t recommend visiting Hornstrandir enough, and you know what? I think the end of the summer season is  a wonderful time to come — as long as you come ready for a little rain and don’t get too attached to your plans. It also helps to bring a special someone or a wonderful group of friends to get you through the best and the worst of any adventure.

Ferry Ride Back - Smooth Sailing

PS. What is the first thing we did in Ísafjörður after setting up camp in the harbor campsite? We went to the public, heated indoor pool of course  and sat in the hot pot for an hour until we were well and truly warm.

Trail’s End

Hornstrandir Part III: Beach Backpacking is Hard

Leaving Látrar Campsite the Easy Way

The next day we timed the start of our hike so that we would reach the rocky peninsula we were scrambling around at low tide. After a leisurely breakfast of oatmeal with trail mix* and dried milk powder, we threw on our packs and ambled down to the beach to start walking. There’s something surreal about hiking along a white sand beach with gentle turquoise waves slapping at your hiking boots. If not for the cold mist, freezing water, and heavy packs on our rain-jacketed backs, we could have been strolling down a tropical beach on a rare overcast day. The beaches on Hornstrandir really are some of the loveliest and loneliest I’ve ever had the pleasure of walking on.

True Love -- Waiting in Rain and Wind for Your Husband to Cross Safely Before You Dry Off

All too soon, we came to the first of the three river/stream crossings for the day and started looking for the best place to cross. Closer to the river mouth the ground went from firm to quick sand in one step, so we went inland around the first bend to cross. Our trekking poles really came in handy for testing the ground and keeping our footing during river crossings on Hornstrandir. All the bodies of water we crossed were freezing, but also shallow and easy to ford so it was actually a lot of fun. I’m not sure I can describe just how cold the water felt, so I’ll just say it was bracing.

The Second River Crossing of the Day

An Italian couple we had met at the emergency hut the day before caught up to us at the first river crossing and crossed two rivers with us before heading inland back towards Hesteyri and a ferry escape. As we watched, the wife dropped their towel into the river while crossing in her lingerie. This couple became famous during their stay on Hornstrandir — whenever we met up with any other people they would inevitably ask if we’d seen the Italians and were they ok? In addition to forgetting to bring vital equipment such as a stove and map, the couple lost a pair of waterproof pants and a sleeping pad we spotted at the bottom of a cliff the next day. After leaving us, the couple got lost in the fog in the hills and set up their tent in a mossy hollow that filled with water as it rained. We heard this story from another group of campers at the end of our own trip just as the park ranger started walking around camp with a pair of waterproof pants he’d found asking if someone had lost them.

Reaching the Rocky Point at Low Tide

Shortly after the second river crossing, it began to rain in earnest again. We reached the end of the beach and the start of the rocky point around lunch, so we huddled together on a wet log to roll up cheese and salami in Icelandic flat bread and eat some of our chocolate supply. We’d timed our hike just right and the rocks we needed to clamber over  for the next two miles or so were not underwater. This part of the hike reminded me of scrambling over slippery rocks as a kid on the Northern California coast, so I thought it was pretty fun for the first hour. Climbing from one wet rock to another is a lot more tiring with a heavy backpack though, and we were all pretty excited to see flat ground in the distance once we rounded the point. I think I even made the unforgivable mistake of shouting back to our group that we were past the worst part and almost done. Unfortunately, we had actually just reached the hardest part of the day.

The Notorious Rusty Old Chain -- See All the Seaweed? It's Normally Underwater

The first part of the hike around the point had been mostly scrambling over small slippery rocks, larger boulders, and the aftermath of recent mudslides from the cliffs above. Once we rounded the bend though, the rocks got bigger and there was a lot more climbing and nervously watching the tide come in. We’d read a description of this “trail” that mentioned a length of rusty old chain you needed to climb one cliff, but clearly we’d been in denial. The cliff with the chain wasn’t more than 13ft, but it was slippery and definitely benefited from having a chain to hang onto. Now this was an adventure!

More Mini Cliff Climbing on Seaweed Covered Rocks

Every time we thought we were done climbing we would come across just one more cliff between us and the beach. And we’d been worried that the ~9 mile hike along the coast would be boring and over too quickly…

End of Trail Party

When we finally reached the end of the rocks we had a mini celebration. We also ran into a Canadian couple that were about to start the hike, but it was the end of low tide. We encouraged them to reconsider racing against the tide so late in the day. Instead, we all crossed the third and last stream of the day and set up camp together at Sæból. The weather finally cleared up, the sun lit up the clouds, and we all had hot tea and watched two arctic foxes play on the beach under our campsite in the evening light.

Campsite at Sæból

View of the Day's Hike from the Campsite

View from the Outhouse -- It Doesn't Get Any Better

We felt relaxed and ready for our final hike back to Hesteyri the next day. The Canadian couple warned us that there was no clear trail out of the valley the direction we were planning on hiking, but we had a map and GPS with us. How far out of the way could we possibly go?

Clear Trail Signage -- Our Departure & Destination

*My trail mix recipe is pretty simple — Buy all your favorite nuts, seeds, and dried fruit in bulk and then mix with chocolate chips. Our Hornstrandir version included a bag of mixed nuts from hazelnut to walnut, pineapple pieces, mango chunks, banana chips, apple rings, blueberries, coconut flakes, apricots, sunflower seeds, and chocolate chips (I may have forgotten a few ingredients). I also love combining almonds, pecans, dried cherries, and dark chocolate for a truly decadent trail treat.

Hornstrandir Part II: Plan is a Strong Word

After disembarking from the ferry via inflatable raft our little group took the advice of the lone Hornstrandir ranger and set up camp just down the beach from our drop off point in Hesteyri to wait out the rain. We’d had big plans before we got to Hornstrandir — we were going to hike most of the coastline in five days starting in the north at Hornvik – but then came the rain and the northern half of the peninsula was closed off, the ferry left late, and the ranger recommended we set up camp instead of hiking through the storm. Not everyone on the ferry took his advice: a husband and wife team and a well-equipped young man stepped off the dock and headed up the nearest trail. The couple returned to Hesteyri several hours later in dripping defeat with every intention of taking the next ferry off the peninsula until we told them about a family summer home in Hesteryi that doubles as a hostel with dry beds; they just left their tent at the campsite and walked straight to the summer house. We met up with the brave young Icelander a couple days later at an emergency hut where he had spent the last two days trying to dry off after an all night hike spent searching for dry ground. His stretched-out leather boots looked like they had melted off his feet.

Hesteyri Campsite -- Luxury Living

We set up our tents in the designated campground next to a bright red outhouse and  a small overgrown cemetery. It was still early afternoon and we were too excited to climb into our tents to get out of the rain, so we decided to warm up with some hot coffee and Icelandic pancakes. By the time we’d walked down the marshy path along the beach to the summer house that saved — I mean served — mainland visitors, we were soaking wet and my “waterproof ” boots had already given up the fight. We hung all our wet clothing next to a heater and spent the next several hours happily sipping tea and coffee, chatting, and eating thin pancakes sprinkled with sugar and rolled into little tubes.

The Hesteyri Pancake House

It’s hard to believe but it was still summer in Iceland and the sun wasn’t setting until around 11pm, so we didn’t notice how late it had gotten until the family started eating dinner in the next room. We put all our damp clothing back on, thanked the owners profusely, and headed back to our tents for a cold, wet night. Luckily, only one of our tents sprung a leak and it was easily patched. The next morning it was still raining, our stuff was still wet, and we decided to hang out in Hesteyri for one more day in the hopes of clearer skies on the morrow. We spent the day reading, playing card games, exploring the fjord without packs, and taking photographs of the pink and purple jellyfish corpses decorating the beach. That afternoon the rain finally stopped and we were able to hang everything out to dry. The next morning after a breakfast of oatmeal supplemented with wild blueberries, we were ready to set off for a much shorter than anticipated backpacking trip. Perhaps we didn’t need to bring such a big chocolate ration?

Hornstrandir Jelly Fish

Hiking out of Hesteyri - The Blueberry Fields

We decided to take the easy trail over the mountain pass to Aðalvík cove and the Látrar campsite where we would have the option of going north or south the next day depending on trail conditions. It was a beautiful day and the hike up and over was constantly surprising us with amazing views, sparkling streams, tart blueberries, summer flowers, rocky barren landscapes, snow patches, and finally an unexpected lake crossing. Yes, I said lake crossing not river crossing. We were surprised as well when the trail ended in such a wide body of water, but luckily even after all the rain the lake was extremely shallow — for the most part. One of our companions took a slight detour into deeper water, and I decided to cross pants-free just in case.

Snowy Hornstrandir Pass in August

The Final Downhill Stretch Looks Like Smooth Flying

Lake Crossing - Where did the trail go?

After crossing the lake and trekking over a mile of sand dunes we made it to camp and the emergency hut where we met up with the young Icelandic man from the ferry. He warned us that the steep trail north had been like walking up and then down a waterfall, so we decided to hike southwest along the beach the next day, clamber around the rocky point at low tide, and camp at Sæból. How hard could walking along the beach for several miles and climbing over a few rocks be? We took an evening stroll along the coast, made a group meal of lentils with mushroom soup and hot chocolate, and climbed into our tents secure in our plans for tomorrow. The next morning it started to rain.

Water Fresh from the Source -- A Convenient Tube Turns Any Stream into a Faucet at Látrar

Hornstrandir Part I: It’s Better When It’s Not Raining

Hornstrandir Nature Reserve in northern Iceland is a backpacker paradise sometimes called one of the wildest places left in western Europe. Uninhabited except during the summer months, this lush green peninsula can only be reached by boat or foot and is home to some of Iceland’s most enchanting wildlife and scenery. Abundant fresh water you can drink straight from any stream, wild August blueberries, fuzzy arctic foxes, hillsides covered in springy green moss, 500m seaside cliffs covered in nesting seabirds, crumbling ruins from throughout the last century wreathed in endless fog, mountain passes with snow patches that never melt, quaint summer houses perched in little enclaves by the sea, waterfalls around every corner, a family-run summer hostel that sells coffee and Icelandic pancakes to hikers, free outhouse-equipped campsites within a day’s hike at any point, giant purple jellyfish that wash up to decorate the white sand beaches, and miles and miles of coastline following the fjords into deep inset bays and out again to the open ocean…What more can you ask for from a place reserved for outdoor adventure?

Oh, I don’t know. A little sun in August might be nice.

A Rainy Afternoon on a Hornstrandir Beach with Jelly Fish

The ferry that takes hikers, day trippers, and summer house owners to Hornstrandir stops running in mid to late August with good reason. We caught one of the last ferries back to the mainland on August 20th after 5 days on the tip of the peninsula. The first two days it poured rain in sheets, flooded the rivers, soaked the landscape, and closed the northern half of the reserve. During our Hornstrandir trip I had two epiphanies: 1) Moss makes a great all-natural sponge best squeezed dry by accommodating hikers in so-called waterproof boots, and 2) Hornstrandir may in fact be the best place on earth to test the waterproof limits of any item of outdoor gear.

Hornstrandir

As soon as we arrived in the little town of Ísafjörður–the capital of Iceland’s West Fjords–we began hearing those two sentences you never want to hear at the start of a camping trip, “You should have come a few weeks ago. The weather was beautiful.”

It had been a lovely, sunny morning in Reykjavik when we hoisted up our full packs and headed to the domestic bus terminal…I mean airport. We–five comrades in packs–arrived at the airport 30min before our flight, waited in a line with 2 other people, got a cup of coffee, and climbed onto our plane without ever hearing the word “security” let alone encountering any. It may have been the best airport experience of my life, and it felt like a great start to a trip we’d been planning for months. When we arrived in Ísafjörður–after a wide-eyed landing in a narrow, mountain-lined fjord (at one point the plane turned straight into the side of a mountain as it curved down towards the runway)–it started drizzling under a heavy layer of grey clouds, and we knew the bad weather reports were going to come true.

Downtown Square in Ísafjörður

We took the ~$5 bus/van into town two miles away, set up our tents on the lawn at Hotel Edda–a school that converts to a hotel/campsite in summer–and headed downtown to pick up some camping fuel, visit the Westfjords Heritage Museum, and get coffee and treats at a little bakery. Ísafjörður was a pleasant place to waste an afternoon–a small harbor town of brightly painted buildings, artsy shops, and little restaurants sitting in the middle of peak-lined fjord.

Unfortunately, that evening it began to rain in earnest and it didn’t let up the next morning. We walked down to the ferry office not knowing if the boat would actually leave that morning as scheduled. It did not. The ferry folks told us the boat would try to make the trip that afternoon and before it could drop us off it would need to pick up–aka rescue–some other hikers that had just trekked through a mountain pass from the northern half of the peninsula to escape the flooding. We took the opportunity to return to the same little bakery from the afternoon before and stock up on sugar to fortify ourselves for the boat ride.

Hornstrandir Ferry Ride - "White Out" Conditions

The ferry did leave that afternoon and I was glad that I’d taken some sea-sickness medecine before the ride. As soon as we left the fjord for the open ocean, wave after wave sent the little boat flying through a curtain of white water completely obscuring the view through the window–up and down, up and down. It was actually kind of rhythmic and I fell into a drugged doze and dreamt of being an Icelandic fisherman. After a little over an hour we reached the rescue point and picked up half a dozen soaking wet backpackers–I mean really wet. They could have swum out to the boat and they would not have gotten any wetter. A couple of the women couldn’t stop shaking they were so cold, and kept repeating, “never again.”

Our First View of Hornstrandir from Ferry

Our little group looked at each other doubtfully and shrugged. It was too late to turn back now. We were going to have an adventure!

Zodiac Ride from Ferry to Dock

Hiking in Þórsmörk

Last Friday we took the 4pm Reykjavik Excursions bus from the BSÍ Bus Terminal to the fabled land of Þórsmörk – a mountain ridge surrounded by glacial rivers and the three glaciers that love them. Saturday and Sunday we hiked over (sometimes into) the glacial rivers, up the steep mountains and through the little woods. Sunday afternoon after a short hike, some singing in the singing cave and lots of sunbathing at our Husadalur campsite we caught the 4pm bus, and were back in Reykjavik by 8pm. The perfect weekend wilderness escape! Did I mention all the glacial floodplains and rivers you have to cross to get there?

Early 10:30am Start to a Þórsmörk Valley Hike

The Watery "Road" to Þórsmörk -- Rental Car Hell

Rare Wooden Bridge Over Krossá in Þórsmörk -- Stepping Stones Being the Preferred "Bridge" Building Material

Hiking Through Floodplains Just Feels Wrong

Building Bridges One Stone at a Time

Apparently a Black or "Difficult" Trail in Iceland Translates to Follow the River

We Found a Trail!

View Towards Mýrdalsjökull Glacier

View from Hvanargill -- Notice Neither Bridge Crosses the Main Tributary and One Bridge Has No Water Under It At All

Iceland Really Knows How to Make Rocks

It Shouldn't Be Possible to Get Lost in the Few Stunted Forests in Iceland -- But We Managed It

View of Eyjafjallajökull Glacier -- Home to the 2010 Eruption (Notice the Ash?)

Top of Valahnúksból Mountain -- Mountain #2

Our Picnic Spot on Valahnúksból Mountain

Chris Points to the Nose Peak of Valahnúksból

The Airstrip at Þórsmörk -- Rocky Glacial Floodplains Make Great Landing Strips, Right?

After over 20km of hiking Saturday and a much shorter hike on a sunny Sunday afternoon, we were so ready to try the hot pot at Husadalur. Unfortunately, this little algae filled pool is currently more of a “lukewarm” pot. Luckily, hot showers were included in the price of camping as was the use of a cozy common camp kitchen. We experimented with gourmet backpacking meals — couscous with sun-dried tomatoes and tuna fish curry with dehydrated veggies and coconut — in preparation for our upcoming five day backpacking trip across Hornstrandir next week. My new line of backpacking meals will be available next year, and will include an Icelandic dried fish curry.

Þórsmörk Highlights:

• Crossing glacial rivers in a bus
• Glacier views in all directions
• Walking over black floodplains and looking down to see sparkling obsidian everywhere
• Finding the first tiny, tart blueberries of summer while lost in the woods
• Picnicking on soft beds of moss and grass on mountain tops and over rivers
• Trying the herbal tea a friend’s mother made from plants she found on our hike
• Seeing mother ptarmigan herd their fluffy chicks into chaos
• Watching a small plane land on the floodplain airstrip
• The contrast between the desert of the floodplains and the lush green valleys and mountains…the views!

Someday we’ll have to return to Þórsmörk by way of the famous four day Laugavegur hike from Landmannalaugar. Or after hearing about the tour bus that drifted downriver into a lake on the way to Landmannalaugar this weekend maybe not…Until then, happy hiking!

Trail’s End

The Golden Circle of the North: Húsavík to Ásbyrgi to Mývatn

The Golden Circle is the most popular day tour in Iceland — a 300km not-quite-circular route linking 3-5 major tourist attractions in south Iceland right outside of Reykjavik. Last weekend we drove a loop through north Iceland that I’d call the Golden Circle of the North with 3-5 key stops along the way. The difference is that the Golden Circle can be done in half a day, while its northern relative is more suited to a long weekend getaway.

Chris at Hamrar Campsite Under the Mountains and Over the Fjord Outside Akureryi

To start the Golden Circle of the North you first need to get to the Capital of North Iceland — Akureryi (a cute little town right on a fjord). We picked up a rental car Friday afternoon around 5pm, and were at our campsite five minutes outside Akureryi by 10pm. If you ever decide to camp in Akureryi skip the cramped little lawn inside the town, and head up into the hills to Hamrar campsite – a sprawling series of forest glades with one of the best playgrounds I’ve ever seen  built on top of a pond.

Húsavík Harbor & Festival from the Water

Saturday morning we started our loop around north Iceland in Húsavík –a little fjord town known in marketing speak as the Whale Watching Capital of Iceland. Húsavík is a beautiful town with an ornate wooden church balanced above the harbor and below a mountain so covered in purple flowers it looks purple. We hadn’t been whale watching in Iceland yet, and decided we might as well take the plunge in Húsavík. There are two whale watching companies in Húsavík, which seem to be identical (same timetable and high price of ~$80) except that one uses refurbished schooners and serves cinnamon rolls, and the other uses refurbished fishing boats and serves traditional Icelandic donuts. I like sailing and cinnamon, so we went with Húsavík’s original whale watching company — North Sailing.

Sailing North on North Sailing

North Sailing's Competition Gentle Giants

Unfortunately, even though our schooner –Hauker — was capable of sailing we motored for the full three hours we were out on the bay. Fortunately, we saw whales — two minke whales and one (maybe two) humpbacks. The best part of the trip was when the humpback whale we were watching with the motor off swam right under the bow of the ship. I was standing at the very tip of the bow and I could see the white pattern of the whale’s fins and sides through a foot of clear turquoise-green seawater right beneath me.

Humpback Whale About to Dive

Whale Skeletons at the Whale Museum

During our whale watching ride the first mate mentioned that the minke whales may or may not be more skittish now they are being hunted again in Iceland — both minkes we saw kept their distance. After seeing live whales swim against a sun-painted backdrop of blue-green sea, snow-capped peaks and distant waterfalls, we grabbed some lunch at a local annual festival (freshly fried shrimp and Chinese food) and visited the Húsavík Whale Museum for their take on whales and whaling. I would say that the Whale Museum tries not to take sides on the whaling debate — on the one hand all the whale skeletons in the warehouse attic come from whales that were not hunted and on the other they had a photographic exhibit by an American photographer of Inuit townsfolk in Alaska hunting and slaughtering a bowhead whale with descriptions saying things like who are we to prevent people from continuing their traditional hunts (of the longest-living mammal on the planet — 200 years). The whale skeletons were the best part of the museum.

Ásbyrgi Horseshoe Canyon from Bottom of the "U"

Botnstjörn Lake at the Foot of Ásbyrgi Canyon

We left hopping Húsavík and its local festival for the quiet of Ásbyrgi Canyon — our next stop on the circle and a horseshoe-shaped canyon said to be made by Odin’s horse. In addition to the lovely green waters of Botnstjörn lake at the bottom of the canyon, Ásbyrgi is filled with the greenery of a small birch forest and lots of wildflowers. Trees are to be treasured in Iceland — where deforestation and volcanic activity have stripped away most of the island’s leafy boughs, except where dedicated souls have planted small pines in recent years. We’ve been told by Icelanders that if you want trees to grow here you have to protect them from the cold, powerful north wind. Ásbyrgi Canyon does a lovely job of protecting its little woodland, and I can see why Icelanders say that the hidden people live in this beautiful place.

Dettifoss Pours into the Canyon

The next part of the circle is not for the faint of vehicle. The bumpy, potholey, gravel road to Dettifoss waterfall — one of the most powerful waterfalls in all of Europe — from Ásbyrgi is almost 30km, can take over an hour and would not be kind to an RV. Our little Suzuki Alto rental car — a terrible tiny pink monstrosity that sprayed liquid on the front passenger’s feet when you tried to wash the rear window — got a piece of gravel stuck in the brakes and blessed our ears with a high-pitched squeal until finally popping out of its own accord. [When we called the rental car company for advice they said, "brake a lot."]

Chris and I at Dettifoss -- Feel the Power of the Falls

We were not in the best mood when we finally bumped onto the paved road to Dettifoss, but the waterfall cheered us up quickly. It’s not the most beautiful waterfall in Iceland — squat with turbulent milky grey water — but its sheer power and noise are awe-inspiring.  I couldn’t capture the full line of its diagonal stream with my camera it was so long. Right upstream from Dettifoss is Selfoss — a pretty series of smaller falls.

Chris in Front of Selfoss

The final stop on our Golden Circle of the North was of course Lake Mývatn – a beautiful baby-blue lake filled with rocky islets surrounded by bird-filled wetlands and a geothermally active landscape. The road from the east into Mývatn and the loop around the lake forms its own Golden Circle of tourist attractions — from Krafla to Dimmuborgir – and you can easily spend a whole weekend exploring the Mývatn region. We spent a couple days in Mývatn earlier in the month with my parents when we were driving around the Ring Road, so this time we set up our tent at the lake shore campsite and headed straight to the Mývatn Nature Baths — the Blue Lagoon of the North –at 10pm to soak away a long day of circling. Luckily, in summer this lake-size hot tub is open until midnight.

Our Mývatn Lakeside Campsite & Breakfast

Sunday morning we left Mývatn and headed back to Reykjavik by way of Akureryi to complete our Golden Circle of the North. In Akureryi we put the cherry on top of our trip with a stop at the botanical gardens and the best sweet shop…you can guess what comes next…”of the North”.

Akureyri Botanical Garden Summer Flowers

Chris Between the Pink and Blue Poppies

The Akureryi Botanical Garden was unexpectedly lovely for a garden so far north — full of thousands of primary-colored summer flowers. The poppies were especially amazing; I’ve never seen such bright blue, pink, orange and red shades on flowers. They looked like they’d been painted by Akureryi’s own Alice in Wonderland. After wandering through such sweet-smelling blooms we couldn’t resist stopping at the nearby ice cream shop for a strawberry shake mixed with our choice of three kinds of candy.

Best Ice Cream Shop in the North

While we were eating our ice cream outside the shop a little black cat followed her owner to the door, jumped on top of our table and tried to get a lick of our shakes. Having successfully defended our sweets from attack and fortified ourselves with sugar, we left the kitty bothering two other people for some cream and drove straight back to Reykjavik in four hours. On the drive back I kept seeing these almost neon green patches dotting the countryside, and eventually realized they were the spots where farmers had just harvested young hay. Iceland wears its best rainbow coat in the summer sun, and the north is one of the best places to see it strut its stuff!

Driving by Fresh Cut Hay Fields and Craggy Mountains

Viðey Island: A Perfect Sun-day Outing in Reykjavik

Viðey Island with the Ferry Making the Long Crossing

Last week we drove around the ring road of Iceland in a camper with my parents, and it was an amazing adventure. [I haven't finished organizing all the photos from our trip, but once I do more posts will be forthcoming!] This weekend we decided to do some more low-key sightseeing around Reykjavik while recovering from our vacation, so when the sun came out bright and shining at 3am we knew it was the perfect day to take the 5-minute ferry from Reykjavik’s Skarfabakki harbor – where the cruise ships dock –to Viðey Island.

Our Friend Escorting Our Bikes on the Viðey Island Ferry

This morning we met up with a friend on our bicycles and cycled down to the sea. The Elding whale watching company runs the ferries to Viðey, and in summer they leave every hour between 12:15 and 17:15. The last ferry back from Viðey leaves at 18:30 (6:30pm). It costs about $10 a person to take the ferry, and you can bring your bike for free. However, I really wouldn’t recommend bringing your own bike because you’ll have to wrestle it up some bobbing stairs into a tiny ferry boat with no dedicated space for bikes, and all the paths on the island are bumpy gravel with huge potholes. Plus, Viðey kindly provides free bikes with fat tires for visitors to use on the island, so why mess up your own bike? You can find the free bikes behind the Viðeyjarstofa cafe/old mansion right by the harbor.

Walking up to the Anchor from the 1906 Sinking of the Ingvar Cutter

Viðey is the largest island of the Kollafjörður Bay in Reykjavik, but you can still walk the whole island in one afternoon — it’s only a couple square kilometers. We started out on our bikes, bumped over a couple gravely roads, and switched to walking. Our first stop — after peeking into the old church and mansion turned cafe by the harbor — was the Imagine Peace Tower memorial built in memory of John Lennon by Yoko Ono. We’d seen its bright ray of light shooting into the sky last winter and were curious what it looked like up close — it turns out it looks like a squat chest-high tower made with white kitchen tiles engraved with “imagine peace” in different languages (too boring to include a photo). Disappointed with our first stop, we decided to scour the nearby coast for a cave called “Shark Basin” with “beautiful columnar basalt formations” according to our map/brochure. It took us a while to find it — we found the anchor from a 1906 shipwreck acting as a memorial first — because the cave can only be seen from the ocean. I can’t really recommend checking out this shallow cave with basalt columns jabbing out diagonally to form the entrance, because it isn’t super safe — so visit at your own risk (Why does the brochure send visitors there? Maybe because Iceland has nationalized healthcare?). It was low tide, so we were able to get to the cave by slipping around the cliff corner over seaweed-covered rocks.

Chris Slipping & Sliding Towards Shark Basin -- Note the Beautiful Basalt Rocks

After making our way painstakingly back to the black rock beach from the cave, we headed to the eastern tip of the island to visit the ruins of Sundbakki — a fish-processing village abandoned in the 1940s. The schoolhouse is the only building still standing and it has an exhibit of photographs of the village and its inhabitants with interesting descriptions in Icelandic and English. There was a photograph of Charles and Ann Lindbergh standing in front of Bjorn’s house with his family accompanied by a second photo of the Lindbergh’s plane floating in the bay.

A Map of Sundbakki Village in Front of the Ruins

Chris Standing Where the Lindberghs Once Stood

Picnic Lunch in Sundbakki Ruins

We walked along the long stretch of black sand beach at the tip of the island watching the seabirds and crabs skim about the seaside, and had lunch at a picnic table located in one of the ruined buildings. The birch-tree cream cheese was really good on hot spring-baked rye bread we bought in the town of Hveragerði with my parents.

View of the Bay and Mt. Esja from Viðey Isthmus

After lunch we ditched our bikes and strolled to the west half of the island across a small isthmus that can become submerged during bad storms. We took a footpath that links up the pairs of basalt pillars placed around the western half of Viðey by artist Richard Serra under the title “Milestones.” Basalt cliffs beneath the sculptures overlooked a sparkling “evening” sea with the Reykjavik cityscape in the background, and when we looked over the cliff edge we saw dozens of Eider ducks and ducklings swimming in the surf.

Chris Atop Basalt Cliffs on West Viðey -- Vesturey

We walked the path quickly because we wanted to get back to the cafe in time for coffee and waffles. I’d be happy to take the ferry back to Viðey on another sunny day just to sit at Viðeyjarstofa’s outside tables, sipping coffee, listening to locals and eating belgian-style waffles with whipped cream and strawberry jam.

Coffee (Later with Waffles) at Viðeyjarstofa

There were so many people leaving on the 17:30/5:30pm ferry that the small whale watching boat Elding was using as a ferry had to go back and forth a couple times before picking us up. It was not fun to wrestle the bikes on and off of a crowded little boat, but we made it back to the mainland with only a few dirty looks from fellow passengers — who were all dressed up in their Sunday best with velvet pant suits, high heels and silky tunics. On our bike ride home along the bay we stopped at an artist’s house to see both the house — a crazy work of art in and of itself — and the sculptures surrounding it.

Quirky Reykjavik Artist's House and Sculptures on the Bay

Metal Reykjavik Sculpture with Cruise Ship Passing in Bay

Our favorite sculpture was a tall metal warrior with several rusty spears made out of what looked like scrap metal and spare parts — but that could have been because we watched the Iron Giant for the first time last night. The house and sculptures were surrounded by the tallest Angelica plants I’ve ever seen — it was like walking through a forest of white flowers from the Land of Giants.

Winner of the Tallest Flower in Iceland

Icelandic Angelica Looking Heavenwards

We took the first ferry to Viðey at 12:15, which means we spent over 5 hours on this long skinny island, walked and biked all over, and still didn’t see every number on our little brochure and map. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon!