Author: satishsa

Waking up in the (possibly) only forest in Iceland, Remi and I had a quick breakfast and decided to head towards Borgarnes. I had been talking up the West Fjords all night the previous day (I left out the part about my hasty retreat), and Remi wanted to try taking a bus to Ísafjörður.

Borganes wasn’t a pretty town. The bus to Hólmavík wasn’t coming in today, and so we decided to head further south to Akranes.

After a quick swim at the local hole in Akranes, Remi and I parted ways. I had thoroughly enjoyed his company, and we made the usual promises to catch up back in Quebec.

I drove on to Reykjavik. I must have gotten there around rush-hour. The traffic and people was disconcerting.

I drove to the campsite, which had become a LOT more busy than the last time I was there. I met a few people who were excited about starting their trip around the island. I kinda envied them.

I am not used to getting up to an alarm anymore. I trudged out of the tent at 8am and packed up. After a quick breakfast and shower, I met up with Remi at the clubhouse.

Remi** had a bunch of sights to see planned for the day, which was great. I am used to “figuring it out” as I go along, but a planned itinerary sounded like a welcome change.

First stop was the Rotten Shark Museum in Bjarnarhöfn. The dish is a delicacy in Iceland, with the Greenland Shark actually being a poisonous fish. Apparently, after fermenting the meat for 6 months and letting it rot, it then becomes edible (!), albeit in small quantities.

The museum was more of a hut. The guy running it was friendly but a little odd, possibly eaten one-too-many fermented sharks. He asked us to try a piece. Both Remi and I declined. It looked less than appetizing. And it smelt like rotting fish. Not wanting to smell like fish for the rest of the day, we gtfo’d.

Next stop on Remi’s agenda was Kirkjufellsfoss, the most photographed waterfall in Iceland.

 

I wasn’t really sure what made this waterfall more popular than all the other ones around. Seemed on par beauty-wise with the rest. Anyway, Remi was super excited and I didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm.

I realized later that this was the first waterfall he had seen in Iceland. That explains it.

Next stops were for lunch, a quick look at a quirky hostel in Rif and an abandoned church somewhere in between. Remi had mapped out every single point of interest along the way. I can’t say I was excited about everything on there, but the kid was so excited, I just shared in his enthusiasm.

I decided to pick the next activity. A hike through the lava fields of Dritvik. The hike starts off along a black sand beach, walks through some incredible lava rock formations, and ends at a point called “the troll cave” where trolls dwell.

Last stop on the agenda was exploring the caves of the glacier. We came to a turn-off near Arnarstapi where a gravel road leads up to the mouth of the glacier. In usual style, I tried to will the Spark up the gravel road… and as expected, it didn’t work.

It’s hard to tell from the picture, but the incline is about 15-20 degrees. The car made it about a kilometre in before it started sliding out. I stalled at one point, and the car slid slightly backwards.

Remi wasn’t looking too happy. I suggested we hike up instead, and he jumped out the car pretty fast. It was just as well, there was no way this car was gonna make it up.

We found some pretty awesome caves on the hike up. A little information board told us that these caves were used in the past as shelter by the Vikings. They used to hear voices coming from the innards of the cave, and attributed it to the elves that lived in there.

The caves did create some weird acoustic effects. Deep echoes, strange pitches. We hooted and hollered a bunch before moving on.

At some point along the hike, we decided to head back. The hike wasn’t as much a hike as walking along a road, and it didn’t look like it was leading anywhere significant.

Time to find a campsite. This part of the peninsula has few official campsites, and we decided to do some wild camping. A bunch of driving and getting lost later, we settled upon a small forest towards the eastern part of the peninsula. It had trees !! which was a big appeal after a month of no trees.

We settled on a spot in between the trees. Cooking up a storm for dinner, we explored the forest a bit, chatted up about Iceland, Quebec and other places.

It had been a great day. I thought about what made it so awesome while sleeping. I hadn’t done anything particularly extraordinary or thrilling. I guess experiences in life are just better shared with another person (even if you just met them :))

** Remi is an 18-year old just-finished-highschool guy from Levis, QC. He took 3 weeks off between his school and summer job to travel to Iceland. He plans to hitch rides around the country and camp. Adventure starts at an early age for Quebecers.

 

 

 

I woke up at 6am with my tent shaking like a leaf. I had taken extra care to tie it down last night, but this was really testing the limits of what the fabric could handle.

I couldn’t fall back asleep. I was worried about the drive back along the cliffs. I had hoped the wind and rain would die down in the morning, but it had just gotten worse.

I lay in my sleeping bag reading. I had to pee but didn’t dare step out of the tent. My weight was probably all that was keeping it from flying out into the ocean.

I made a video from inside the tent. The gif here gives you an idea of what it looked like, but its hard to explain what it felt like lying inside the tent in a rain storm for 3 hours.

Finally at around 9am, I realized the weather wasn’t going to get better. I had to move out of here ASAP. I didn’t care about the Latrabjarg bird cliffs, the western most point in Iceland or the hike I planned to do. I just wanted to get back onto the main road.

I packed up my stuff in about 30 seconds – a quick dismantle of the tent and threw everything into the back seat. The car had a tough time getting off the grassy field, which had become very muddy with the rain. I almost got stuck, but I somehow made it out after a lot of revving and stalling.

Driving back through the cliffs wasn’t half as bad as I had imagined it to be. Anticipation is often worse than reality.

I drove from Breidavik all the way to Brjánslækur (~100 kms) without stopping. Once I made it onto Rte60, the weather had cleared up. Still cloudy, but the incessant rain had stopped.

I decided to drive to the Snæfellsnes Peninsula. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to do anything else in the West Fjords. I wanted out.

I drove to Stykkishólmur (the largest town in Snæfellsnes Peninsula) barely making any stops. I didn’t eat anything either. Looking back, I’m not sure why but my only focus was getting out of the West Fjords. Something about last night, the drive through the cliffs, the isolated town and the strong winds had unnerved me. And I don’t unnerve easily.

360kms of driving later, I was in Stykkishólmur. I hit the local N1 Grill and gobbled down a burger and fries, which cost me ~2500 ISK. Pricey, but I needed some comfort food. I drove to the swimming pool and soaked in a tub for a good while after.

The campsite at Stykkishólmur was right outside the club house of the local golf course. It was a gorgeous place, with great facilities and friendly hosts. I finally felt at ease after a tough day.

I met a guy from Levis, QC at the club house. Remi had arrived in Iceland a couple days earlier, and was travelling around by bus. I asked him if he wanted to join me in exploring the peninsula tomorrow, which he readily agreed. We decided on 9:30am tomorrow morning. I was glad to have some company.

The clubhouse closes at 11pm. At around midnight, a bunch of people showed up and started teeing off. I guess the constant daylight is a great way to escape paying the green fees. And a round of midnight golf does sound pretty awesome.

After a little while, I saw a cop car pulling up. People were gonna get busted now. Nope, the cop pulled out his clubs from the car, and went on to join his buddies.

By the time I was ready to hit the sack, there were more cars in the parking lot than there had been earlier in the evening. And people were still pouring in.

There was no wind that night. I slept like a baby.

It was a beautiful day in Isafjordur. The clouds from last night had disappeared, the sun was out, the sky was blue and the flowers were blooming. I was in no hurry to leave, and spent all morning strolling around the area.

I headed out around noon, and was going to spend the day just driving along Rte60 down the west coast of the fjords, stopping multiple times along the way ofcourse.

I don’t really know how I spent my time in the car. I think I was so transfixed by my surroundings, I drove through in a daze of sorts. At some point, I had to stop to make sure I still was on Rte60 and had not drifted off onto some other road. The whole place was mesmerizing.

Pictures don’t do this place much justice. It isn’t just about the way it looks, it’s the whole energy of the place. It feels humbling, euphoric and calm all at once.

I snapped out of my daze as I approached a turnoff for Dynjandifoss, the crown-jewel of waterfalls in the West Fjords.

It was nice, but no cigar. Maybe I have seen too many waterfalls in the last little while to really appreciate them anymore. Nonetheless, it was worth a hike to the top and a chance to stretch my legs out.

Great view! I was the only guy up at the top of the falls who wasn’t looking at the falls.

I hiked back down and stopped to cook lunch.

I noticed a lot of people who came to visit the falls were very preoccupied with taking pictures. They would barely pause to watch, enjoy and experience the place, instead spending their time adjusting their tripod or selfie-sticks to get the perfect shot. I guess they’ll appreciate it in the pictures they took at some point in the future…

The road got gravely after a while. I started gaining altitude and found myself driving right into a cloud. The day had started off with blue skies, but I had been warned that the weather in the West Fjords changed at the drop of a hat.

Apart from bad roads and clouds looming overhead, I also had the added threat of sea monsters.

Iceland is a superstitious country, and who can blame them? The country has a magical landscape, and it lends a great setting for the folktales.  There are stories of troll kings, fairies, sea monsters, viking hordes and elves.

The information board nearby listed all the times in recent history that the sea monster had been spotted. Last sighting was in 1990. I won’t say I necessarily believe the story, but I also wouldn’t go out there on a boat.

By the time I got back to paved road near Bildudalur, the clouds were coming in from the Atlantic. It was getting kinda windy too. Not good, not good.

I stopped in Talknafjordur for a shower and swim, and then I got back out around 10pm, the clouds were gone. Awesome.

Looking at my map, I decided to camp out at the western-most point of Iceland, the bird cliff of Latrabjarg.

Driving out to Latrabjarg is an experience I would like to forget, but probably never will. The road was terrible, it was WINDY, and the clouds were back with full force.

About 10 kms in, I wanted to turn back, but I couldn’t. The road was very narrow and no guardrails off the edge of the cliff. Gah! Only way forward was ahead.

After about 15 kms of white-knuckled driving, I finally made it to a town that had one house and an abandoned US Army airplane. Kinda cool.

I could have turned back at this point and headed back to the main highway, but I wasn’t risking it through the cliffs again. I guess I was camping out there tonight 100%.

The drive out to Latrabjarg was turning out to be more than I had bargained for. It was around midnight, and I was driving into what looked like oblivion. There was also no real spot for me to setup my tent.

I finally got to the town of Breidavik, which was at a lower altitude. I was gonna stay here tonight. Latrabjarg, which was still another 12kms away, would have to wait till tomorrow. The visibility was so bad up there anyway, I wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.

Not that I cared at this point. I just wanted to go to bed. I set up my tent in the middle of a grassy patch in town. There was a  weird soggy mist that had surrounded the whole area and a lot of wind.

I fell asleep wishing I could teleport back to Isafjordur.

I woke up pretty late. It was just mine and one other tent left at the campsite. I packed up and decided to go to Drangsnes. Some girls I had spoken to the night before (again from Quebec City) said there were outdoor secret hot-tubs hidden in the village. I was up for a hot-tub hunt.

The drive along the coastline to Drangsnes was (as expected) incredible.

There was a lot of driftwood on the beaches, and an information board along the way told me that all of it is wood that has floated over from Siberia on the Arctic Ocean.

In the olden times, a lot of wooden houses in Iceland were built using this driftwood, since there are no trees in Iceland. Also, having been floating in salt water for a while, they were weather-resistant and lasted a long time. Pretty cool!

I didn’t have to look too hard to find the hot-tubs. Sure, they were kinda hidden, but the town of Drangsnes was two roads, so it didn’t take much searching.

I was pretty happy to spend my time soaking in the tub. The view was great and the water was HOT. Excellent combination.

The tub got a little crowded after a while, and I decided it was time to make moves.

Driving into the fjords, the mountains start getting bigger and the scenery more distracting with each turn.

My map is not to scale. The roads through the fjords are much longer than they look. Moving relatively small distances on the map took a long long time. I wasn’t complaining though, the drive was serene and blissful. Almost therapeutic.

I made many many many stops. I was annoying myself with how often I would stop to take in the scenery.

The place was needless to say, isolated. There was nothing and no-one around.

I stopped in Sudavik to check out the Arctic Foxes. This guy was roaming around the fox pen.

I tried to play around with it, making some noises I think a fox would make. It didn’t respond. I even acted like I was running away from it. Nothing. Not impressed.

Whatever, I was done trying to entertain it.

I think I had seen one running across the highway a couple days back and I had thought it was a cat. Maybe it was a cat. Not sure.

I got to Isafjordur. The biggest town in the Western Fjords. I wasn’t expecting much.

The town was impressive. It had cafes, theatres, human beings walking around, cars parked. What! I had expected another isolated town.

I went to what looked like the most happening spot in town. This was awesome! They had a jukebox, people were playing video games and kids were running around.

I was a little confused though. Where did all these people come from? Was there another road into town? I had passed one car the whole drive here. Maybe they never leave this place? Or do they fly in?

After a burger, fries and a couple of rounds of Street Fighter with some kid, I was feeling pretty satisfied. The day had been perfect.

Driving to the campsite, I was blown away yet again. It was, by far, the most gorgeous setting for a campground I had ever seen.

I pitched my tent close to the waterfall.

This place was paradise. I should move here. Maybe then I’ll figure out the secret road to get here…

Hvammstangi -> Reykjavik -> Holmavik

I had noticed a few paint chips on the hood of my car in the past few days. I must have picked them up during my gravel-road drive on Rte955 through the eastern fjords.

My insurance deductible was 1500 Euros. My credit card covered the deductible, which would effectively bring my deductible down to 0, but I wasn’t happy.

I had to get them fixed.

I called up the Chevrolet car dealership in Reykjavik (the only one in Iceland). They didn’t have the paint-pen in stock. But they said if I drove in, they can point me to a paint shop that might have it. Also, they were closed on the weekends.

Looking at the map, I was ~200 kms from Reykjavik, the closest I would be before I headed out into the Western Fjords.

I decided to just do it. Drive in, pick up the paint-pen, and drive back. I had to, for my own peace of mind. It was a morning wasted, but I wouldn’t be thinking about it all week. I left around noon.

The drive was gorgeous. Definitely enjoyed it, even though I was veering off my regular course.

I made it there in the afternoon, picked up the paint-pen, ate KFC for lunch (after a week of freeze-dried food, who could resist?), and drove back. By the time I got back to where I had started from, it was 6pm.

Getting onto Rte68, I headed into the Fjords. Finally! I was only 48 hours behind schedule. Not that I have a schedule.

It was gravel roads the whole way in. Sure glad I picked up the pen.

The road leading into the fjords was isolated. I passed one car the whole way there, and maybe about 3 houses.

Apparently, only 14% of tourists to Iceland visit the West Fjords, due to their vastness and rugged setting. Not too many facilities or amenities out here.

I was exhausted by the time I got to Holmavik. 500 kms of driving was tiring. Retreating to campsite, I needed to stretch my legs out a little.

The campsite had a great view of the fjord. There were a few people there, and we made idle chitchat until we were all bored of each other.

I cooked dinner. It wasn’t a gourmet meal, but the view more than made up for it.

Akureyri -> Dalvik -> Siglufjörður -> Hofsós -> Hvammstangi

I woke up feeling baked in the tent. It was HOT. The Arctic sun can be harsh in the summer.

Packing up, I mapped out a route towards the West Fjords.

I planned to go via Dalvik and Hofsos, on the more secluded Rte76 that went around the peninsula. I figured it would be more interesting than the oft-travelled ring road Rte1.

As I got to Dalvik, I noticed a strange low-hanging grey fog rolling in from the Arctic Ocean. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. So I stopped to take a better look. Strange stuff. On a clear day too. It reminded me of death-eaters from the Harry Potter books.

Dalvik has a ferry that takes you to Grimsey Island, which is in the Arctic Circle. I am a little obsessed with getting as far north as possible and camping in the Arctic Circle sounded very appealing to me.

Driving to the harbour, I inquired with the local fishermen about this ferry. They informed me that the ferry only begins on June 1st, and goes by only once a day. So I was a few days early. Damn! Maybe next time..

Driving on to Siglufjörður, which is right on the tip of the peninsula, I passed through a massive 8km single-lane tunnel. Intense. I considered for a minute what the repercussions of an earthquake at that very moment would be. Definitely not good.

When I got to Siglufjörður, the death-eater fog had taken complete control of the surroundings. Visibility was poor and got worse as you drove into the mountains.

I continued on to Hofsos. I’ve heard the road here is beautiful, but I couldn’t see much except for 10-15 feet ahead of me.

Hofsós was gorgeous. With its bare cliffs hanging over the water, fjords in the distance, and the Arctic Ocean on one side, it had me transfixed. I decided to stick around for a bit.

I headed over to the local town swimming pool. As it turns out, the swimming pool in little Hofsós (population 200) was designed by an award winning architect, and is one of the top-rated pools (and well kept secret) in the country!

Consisting of a heated pool and a hot-tub, it is built on a cliff and sticks out into the ocean and has amazing views all around as well as an infinity-pool feel to it.

I had found my own piece of paradise. I spent the rest of the evening there. I didn’t see a reason to leave. The fjords can wait till tomorrow.

Leaving after the place shut down, I drove through horse country. Endless plains of wild Icelandic horses running around.

I found this little guy cuddling up to his mom. They were cooperative enough to stay still and pose for a picture.

Death-eater fog was still hanging around.

I got to Hvammstangi, which my Lonely Planet guide suggested as the best place to camp in the area. No doubt there, well-maintained facilities and friendly hosts.

As I lay in my tent, I considered driving back to Hofsos tomorrow for another swim in the designer paradise infinity pool.

Waking up at the campsite in Akureyri, I realized I was smack-dab in the middle of the city. There were people waiting for buses, cars honking and kids walking to school. A bit different from the serene campsites of the past 2 weeks.

Akureyri is a smaller version of Reykjavik. I wound up walking around the whole city, which took the better part of my day.

There were loads of people (by Icelandic standards), it being a sunny Saturday.

After hanging around all day, eating different foods and multiple coffees, I decided to head to a campsite on the outskirts of town.

Hamrar campsite was much better. Secluded in the mountains, it had great facilities and a friendly owner. There were a lot of people out here camping too, and I met some interesting folk.

I was up till 2am reading the Elon Musk autobiography. It isn’t very interesting. And a little haphazardly written.