Ryan's Journal

Ridiculously full day. Started out at seven in the morning roaming around on a volcano, ’cause that’s how I start my days now, and then revisited a number of sites around Myvatn including Vindbelgjarfjall. Lonely Planet describes the mountain thusly: “the easy climb up 529m-high Vindbelgjarfjall, west of the lake, offers one of the best views across the water.” Lonely Planet’s editors either just returned from an expedition up Mt. Everest or else they forgot the “…NOT!” after “easy”. In any case, the views are inspiring and a little exercise is always a good thing, so I climbed the beast both days. Today two little kids were already on the trail, and seeing as I’m competitive to an unhealthy degree I figured I could catch them and pass them along the trail. Lesson learned – Little Kid A went up the trail like a mountain goat and absolutely dominated me, although Little Kid B fell by the wayside about halfway up. Whether it’s healthy to compete against little kids in mountain climbing is a subject that can be dealt with later in a professional setting.

After chasing birds, more hiking, and other fun the next stop was at the Myvatn Nature Baths for a shower and some hot spring time. The notable events from this stop: first, during the mandatory pre-hot spring cleaning the showers were open and very close together. Having a hairy, large, butt-naked man scrubbing vigorously in the shower next to you is not good, and especially not good when you have mantouch issues. Second, the hot springs are nice – they make your skin pretty. Third, bikinis rule; there can never be too many good things said about them. And finally, in the changing rooms on the way out the little naked singer appeared. Maybe being a parent makes having a little naked guy walking around singing seem normal, but to this childless thirty-something it seemed just a bit surreal.

The marathon of a day continued after the nature baths with some photography followed by a longish drive along a four-wheel-drive-only road to visit Dettifoss, the largest waterfall in Europe. It’s listed as being the largest waterfall “by volume”, although since there are other waterfalls downstream it’s mildly confusing as to why this particular waterfall got designated the largest. In any case, even shrouded in dense fog (visibility is probably fifty feet) it’s a hugely impressive sight, but a warning to any future visitors – the spray blasting off of this waterfall will soak you; unfortunately my nice clean clothes are now quite damp after hiking down to the canyon’s edge. It’s now well after one in the morning, and as sleepiness is creeping in I’m stuck for a place to spend the night – the Dettifoss parking lot is the first place in Iceland where there has actually been a sign posted saying that sleeping in cars is prohibited, so I’m off to find another spot to park the Wondermobile for the few remaining hours of this evening.

Perfect weather, lots of hiking. Myvatn and its lake is very pretty, with lots of birds and lots of geologic stuff that blows up. Europe and North America are moving apart at a rate of two centimeters per year here, and the result is a volcano, some hot springs, lots of lava flows, and too many other geothermal things for me to remember. Any geologist reading this right now is probably all like “son of a…” – sorry, I don’t know from rocks.

The weather report claims that the wet and blowy stuff will be staying away for a few days, so the plan is to stay here for at least another day. I’ve been spending nights sleeping in the Wondermobile, and can say with some authority that a Suzuki Jimmy will not let anyone who is over three foot six sleep comfortably; the contortions required to lay down in the back seat while stretching my legs into the driver seat are worthy of Cirque du Soleil. As much as I’m enjoying this return to my grungy backpacker roots, the shower and bed that’s waiting at Hotel Keflavik on 10 July is looking better and better.

The majority of the day was spent under overcast skies in Husavik, the whale watching capital of Iceland. After the close encounters in Antarctica the standard for whale experiences has been raised unreasonably high, so instead of going on a boat ride I visited the whale museum. The museum is excellent and features skeletons from several beached whales that do a good job conveying how big the animals are since… well, since they’re skeletons of whales, and are life-sized and stuff. Interesting facts learned about orcas: the females live to be 90 (!), and the name “killer whale” was bastardized in translation – early Basque whalers saw orcas attacking larger whales and named them “whale killers”. Interesting facts about sperm whales: they can dive to two miles in depth and hold their breath for two hours; no word on the origin of the name, and I won’t make any guesses since my mom reads this journal.

An interesting aspect to the museum was the fact that Iceland, along with Norway and Japan, is on the short list of countries actively engaging in whaling. There is a history of eating whale meat in Iceland going back over a thousand years, and the Icelandic word describing a beached whale essentially translates as “hitting the lottery” since back in the day a beached whale could feed several families through the winter. Things are different now, however, and while Icelanders will still consume minke whale meat in small amounts, the majority of the meat from the endangered fin whales that were killed in 2006 was never purchased and remains frozen in industrial freezers. While minimal whaling for minke whales might be seen as justified, the push from the whaling industry for larger harvests of minke, fin, and potentially other whales just doesn’t make much sense, especially considering that revenue from whale watching far exceeds whaling revenues. The position on the issue in this museum was clear, if muted, and they posted an interesting cartoon on the subject from a Reykjavik newspaper that showed a whale arguing with whalers that an intelligent animal shouldn’t be killed, and ended with the whalers shooting the whale and then asking “Hey, did we just shoot a talking whale?”

After re-reading the guidebook it turns out that the Langanges Peninsula is famous among mariners for its thick and persistent fog, so rather than wandering off into the morning mist I spent a couple of hours with the birds and the seas before turning back for fog-free lands. Once out of the fog banks the weather was good all day, and the scenery of Northern Iceland is tremendous – amidst lakes, hills and seascapes were birds including loons, whooper swans, red-throated divers, phalaropes, plovers, whimbrels, snipes, oystercatchers, eider ducks, harlequin ducks, gulls, jaegers, and numerous others that I couldn’t identify.

Amidst the nature and scenery the day’s main event involved another act of stupidity. It was my assumption that Iceland was located in the North Atlantic, but the Lonely Planet has been taunting me with two words – Arctic Ocean. If in fact Iceland really is in the North Atlantic and the book’s editors were merely playing a practical joke in the hopes that some fool would try to add another ocean to his swimming tally then congratulations to the editors, because they found their fool. Barring any mischief by the guidebook staff there are now four oceans that I’ve swum in, and surprisingly today’s soaking seemed ever-so-slightly warmer than the glacial dip a short time ago. In this case the water was unfortunately shallower so entry and exit took considerably more time and the brain was able to more strenuously argue its objections prior to the full dive into the freezing cold. Rod previously commented that he doesn’t get why I need to jump into cold water – luckily by definition irrational acts don’t have to make sense and it can be assumed that some sort of brain damage is the ultimate cause.

UPDATE: According to Wikipedia the northern part of Iceland does indeed touch the Arctic Ocean. Boo yah.

God spent most of the day recharging the waterfalls, but the wet stuff finally quit around 6:30 PM and the big bright thing made a brief appearance. The eastern fjords of Iceland are supposed to be incredible, but with visibility sometimes reduced to four inches it’s impossible to be be one hundred percent certain – Lonely Planet will have to remain the authority on the subject.

Since there’s still a lot of time remaining until the return home I made a detour up north to the Langanes Peninsula, which the guidebook describes as one of the loneliest parts of Iceland. Having spent over two hours driving the fifty kilometer “road” out here, it seems like the guidebook has it right. There are a handful of abandoned farms, a lot of birds, an occasional sheep, some rolling hills, and a blustery coast, but almost no signs of people – there have been two other cars all night, and no inhabited buildings. One very cool sight while coming out was a herd of 20-30 nearly wild horses running along the coast – they don’t like cars, and it was impressive seeing so many animals all take off at full speed across the countryside. The “road” ended in the midst of a long-abandoned fishing village so I’m camped here for the evening with winds howling, dozens of birds flying by every minute, and some impressive sea cliffs disappearing into the fog along the peninsula’s southwest coast. If the weather cooperates there will be a lot of exploring tomorrow, and if it doesn’t then it may be time to make an offering to Thor to try and get the sun back again.

Today started out looking like good weather, and has turned into one of those days that usually requires a guy in a yellow raincoat on TV to be saying “The full force of this category three storm is now becoming apparent…”. At the moment I’m parked in the Wondermobile next to a lighthouse, and the car is shaking as waves of horizontal rain go tearing past; this is definitely the strongest storm I’ve been in recently, even more impressive than the two big storms at the beginning of this trip.

Aside from Mother Nature’s fury it’s otherwise been an unremarkable day. I slept late (8:00 AM), visited the glacial lagoon, and then covered some ground driving towards the eastern side of the country. Nature-wise there’s a sheltered bit of ocean about a half mile from my current parking spot with several hundred swans in it, and I also passed a sign with a picture of a reindeer on it; it would be more notable had I seen an actual reindeer, but when the weather is this bad I’ll take what I can get.

First full day on my own, and I spent most of it re-visiting sites from the photo tour:

• Wakeup was at 6:00 AM in Thingvellir National Park and I spent about two hours photographing geese before any people had yet arrived.
• The next stop was Geysir (prounouned “Gay-zeer”), home of the gay-zeer for which all gay-zeers are named. Sadly someone chucked a rock into the gay-zeer in the 1950’s and it went from shooting 250 feet into the air several times a day to only shooting fifteen feet into the air during major earthquakes. Luckily the nearby Strokkur gay-zeer is still unblocked and erupts every few minutes to entertain the crowds that pour from numerous tour buses.
• The next adventure was past fields filled with horses (they are soft) and then along the foothills of the Hekla volcano and eventually back to the Ring Road along the coast. There was a nap included in that stretch of travel as well.
• Once on the Ring Road God sent perfect waterfall photography weather (dry with overcast) so I stopped at the Skogafoss Waterfall, and per Rod’s recommendation did some hiking along the river above the falls. This river should be the inaugural inductee into the waterfall hall of fame – I finally stopped hiking after the fifth waterfall, all of which are exceptionally photogenic.
• And now I’m parked for the night along the coast on a black sand beach formed when a volcano erupted under the glacier about twelve years ago and flooded a massive area with dirt and debris. The volcano is expected to erupt on a regular basis every couple of decades causing floods, ash, poisonous gases and other devastation – when asked about the upcoming destruction the volcano will unleash on his country Villi Knudsen noted that “it is going to be complicated to film”.

The wind was still howling at 6:00 AM this morning so the Skipper and I packed up and started making a leisurely journey back south. We arrived in Reykjavik around noon and played tourist, visiting the national cathedral, taking the obligatory pictures of the giant Leifur Eriksson statue, and then heading to the national museum. Amidst thousand-year-old relics and other archaelogical treasures the hidden gem within the museum is a room in which you can try on a Viking helmet, sword, and shield, and the Skipper was truly menacing once armored up. From the museum we walked down towards the harbor, and along the way discovered a pond that has every single bird we’ve been stalking for weeks swimming up to people looking for bread – it was a vast difference from a week ago when it took fifteen minutes to get within thirty yards of two whooper swans. I refrained from taking pictures, but will loudly object should my dad try to pass any of his photos as being truly wild birds.

From there we ate dinner, and then it was sadly time for the Skipper’s trip to come to an end. I drove him to Keflavik, we hung out for a bit longer, and then I was off for the solo part of this journey. It’s sad to see everyone go, but at the same time I haven’t spent anytime alone and away from everything in a long time, and it will be a good chance to do some thinking and evaluating of how the whole “life” thing is going.

The Skipper and I awoke reasonably refreshed in a windblown tent this morning and then set off around the Vatnsnes Peninsula. On the far side of the peninsula we found a large grey seal colony and a neat little hostel, and since Mother Nature chose to blast us with wind, cold and rain it seemed like a good place to stop. The soft-spoken but very friendly farmer who owns this place has either been a regular subscriber to the Time-Life carpentry collection or else just simply likes excuses to buy tools, and he has hand-built several two-story cabins along the ocean. It’s a dramatic setting, but given the weather I utilized it primarily as a napping spot.

The day’s one notable adventure came as we were heading off for dinner. Most of the more interesting roads in Iceland require negotiating steep hills, fording streams, and escaping from some slick situations. The rental car I’ve got to handle these roads is a Suzuki Jimmy 4WD, aka Suzy the Wondermobile. Suzy has been a bit underpowered on the roads compared to my trusty Suby, and the handling has been a bit suspect, but she showed her true mettle as I was turning around in a gravel parking lot and she got stuck. Suddenly many of the roads on the Iceland map no longer look like possibilities. In her defense Suzy was fine once I switched the car to 4WD, but getting stuck in a spot that a Ford Focus would navigate with ease is at least mildly concerning.

The photography tour portion of the trip came to a crashing end this morning, and sadly I wasn’t able to find Rod and Marlene to say goodbye; I miss them already, which is unusual for me. They’re both very genuine and fun people – it’s disturbingly rare to find folks today who speak from the heart and don’t attempt to conform to expectations, but I get the sense that everything about the Plancks reflects who they are and what they believe. And in addition to that sentimental mumbo-jumbo, Rod is funny as hell.

The car rental folks arrived at the hotel promptly at 7:45 AM, and surprisingly all I had to do to get the car was sign two papers. With the extra time available I trimmed the mane, which had gotten shaggy enough that I might have earned second place had there been a Rod Planck lookalike contest. The Skipper and I hung around the hotel room relaxing and napping until about 11:00, and then per the Skipper’s request we headed off for the north of the country. The drive north was scenic, and I don’t think I caused any international incidents with my driving. After a few stops along the way we arrived at the coast and hung out on a sea cliff with some inquisitive fulmars that would briefly hover at eye level a few feet away before continuing on their looping flights. We next visited a herd of the Viking horses that they raise around here – they’re the most beautiful horses I’ve ever seen, with long manes, frisky temperaments, and mild personalities. As soon as we stopped the entire herd wandered over to us, but they were either just curious or else looking for something other than the apples we offered.

The day ended at a non-descript restaurant in Hvammstangi that hides within its walls the most beautiful waitress in the world. She spoke English without any trace of accent but said she hadn’t been abroad and attributed her language skills to watching a lot of movies. The other residents of the town were of the squidgy and funny-looking variety (even moreso than yours truly) so one can only assume that the stork delivered the future Ms. Iceland to the wrong address many years ago. Following the dinner with the goddess we headed to a nearby town to put up the tent, took a dip in the local hot pools, and now we’re preparing for a potentially long night as rain and a ridiculous wind is building around us.

Last day – sadness abounds. We started off in Hof, and drove along the ring route towards Reykjavik. There were several stops along the way at some incredible waterfalls and a really neat basalt column formation that I climbed on because I’m a big dork. Hawk introduced us to the Icelandic rock throw, which he very likely had just made up and which he dominated – his best throw was farther and louder than anything that Marlene, Rod, Skip or I could manage.

We arrived at our hotel in Keflavik around seven and gathered for dinner at eight, and after spending two weeks with such a fun group I set aside my qualms about the mantouch and accepted a hug from Larry and Rod. A hearty goodbye from Mavis and Marlene was about all I could handle as I’m poor with goodbyes, so the Skipper and I headed off to bed. I have to pick up the rental car early tomorrow, so there may be more chances for goodbyes before I head off for three days with the Skipper followed by close to two weeks on my own.

At this point in the trip everyone is showing signs of sleep deprivation after nearly two weeks of non-stop action. Any bad weather that might have curtailed our excursions and provided a chance to rest has surprisingly stayed away, so people are falling asleep in the van, taking naps whenever possible, and generally looking disoriented in the mornings; by my accounting that’s a sign of a great trip. Today we set off a bit later, with an 8:00 AM breakfast followed by a return visit to the Jokulsarlon glacial lagoon. Instead of ice I spent the morning with my dad and Rod photographing an active bunch of arctic terns, and ten bazillion photos later I can actually say with some confidence that I’ve got some good ones. Despite repeated dive bombings I was nipped only twice on my hat, although the Skipper took a full load from the back end of one of the birds and had to spend a good while cleaning up in the restroom.

The remainder of the day was primarily spent photographing glaciers that flow off of the massive ice field – apparently the world’s third largest behind Greenland and Antarctica. In addition to having enormous ice sheets Iceland spices things up by adding volcanos, and during eruptions huge masses of the ice melt quickly and wash away anything below including sheep, bridges, towns, etc. Everyone seems to be generally OK with this arrangement, most likely due to a thousand years of living in a tough little corner of the world.

Post-photography I opted to walk forty-five minutes back to the hotel, getting bombarded by a pair of skuas along the way. Dinner followed, and since the trip is nearing its conclusion the alcohol flowed more freely, Hawk made a speech thanking us for making it a fun two weeks, and we retired to the lobby to burn away a few more hours of the night. Tomorrow we’re making our way back to Keflavik, visiting a few sights along the way, and the following day it will sadly be time for the trip to come to an end.

Today is in the running as the best day of the trip thus far. We awoke at 4:15 AM and arrived at the Ingolfshorfoi bird cliffs at 5:00 AM. After a twenty minute tractor ride across tidal flats to the cliffs we spent nearly six hours photographing puffins and skuas – puffins on the ground, puffins flying, puffins with fish, skuas displaying, skuas flying… there were a million different photographs to be taken. Marlene is to be greatly commended for arranging the early and extended visit.

After returning to the hotel for a nap and eating an early dinner we headed off to do some photos of the local glacier, which comes down from the world’s third largest ice sheet. Arctic terns, grey seals, icebergs, mountains, and all sorts of other goodies filled the photos, and it wasn’t until after sunset (around midnight) that we finally returned. Since tomorrow is a late (8:00 AM) breakfast there was time to enjoy a beer with Rod, Marlene and Hawk, and many old stories were dredged up, including the infamous tale of Rod’s famous victory interview several years ago in Antarctica. Sadly only two full days remain in the trip, but if our luck continues they should also be good ones.

This sentence would be a nice transitional sentence if I knew how to write well. At one point during the day Marlene asked Rod what he was photographing. In his best little kid voice the reply was “I’m photographing air… and sunshine… and love”. The moment doesn’t translate as well when written down, but it was pretty damn funny at the time it was uttered.

More great weather today – when asked about the weather Hawk said “Yes, it has been very good. You usually have to pay for that later.” If his prophesy comes true I may have some interesting days of camping once the photo tour ends. Today was another travel day, and we spent it driving along dirt roads, through streams, and past landscapes that included volcanic deserts, lava flows, glaciers, lush fields, and other awesome sights. There were numerous photography stops, and hopefully a few of the day’s photos will be decent ones.

Since we were making good time Hawk suggested we visit an out-of-the-way lake that tourists never go to, and for the next hour we traveled along a road that was at times very nearly impassable, and it eventually became truly impassable at a large snowfield. Hawk indicated it was a short hike to the lake, so after eating lunch and doing some sliding on the snow I set off at a brisk pace. The number of stupid things I’ve done in my life is far too short, but today it grew slightly after a swim in a glacier-fed Arctic lake. There was a quick bit of stripping down, a longer bit of psyching up, some running into the water, some frantic “Panic!” signals sent to the brain, a dive, some loud yelling, and then a quick retreat. Afterwards there was quite a bit of jumping around onshore to get the bloodflow going again. I spent the rest of the day in wet boxers, but it was definitely worthwhile. We’re in bed early tonight with a 4:15 AM wakeup tomorrow to head off to another bird colony before paying a visit to a glacier lagoon that is supposed to be really picturesque.

Today was the second day in this part of Southern Iceland, and it was spent looking for landscapes to photograph. Every manner of weather confronted us, from rain to hail to sun to wind to bugs (lots of bugs). Highlights included some amazing volcanic landscapes, a tolerant pair of whooper swans (who Rod ran down a slope to visit), and a fun hike with Rod and Marlene. Due to the rough weather a lot of the day was spent driving around looking for good light, and we returned to the guest house in the evening a bit earlier than normal and ready for drinks. Whether due to alcohol or simply several days of familiarity there weren’t many inhibitions when it came to conversation, which included a demonstration from Hawk of how he would use a restroom in the U.S. in order to avoid Larry Craig-style footsie adventures (imagine gymnastics involving legs raised well off the ground), Rod’s “Diesel Fitter” bombshell, the usual one liners from John and Diane, Larry’s laughter, Mavis’ giggling, and Marlene’s zingers. It will be sad to see this trip end, ’cause it’s been a fun one.