Our 2500 kilometre odyssey began easily enough, landing in Reykjavik and hitting the road, this time northward to Lake Myvatn and the Westfjords. This is where our bird blog started five years (and 977 birds) ago, during our first trip to Iceland, which took us along the south coast. It was fittingly serendipitous, therefore, that our first "stop" happened to be a great little roadside wetland sanctuary outside Hvammstangi (there was even a spotting scope set up inside the blind).
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| the first of many birding stops |
The driving began in earnest as we detoured northward over the Trollaskagi peninsula--the first of many cliff-hugging cliff roads and one lane tunnels-- to Siglufjordur.
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| Siglufjordur |
Finally, we arrived at lake Myvatn, with ducks by the thousands and innumerable sand flies. Because of a mechanics strike, we lost a day at Myvatn, but hope to come back for winter skiing, northern lights and thermal pool bathing.
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| Myvatn |
We spent the next night in Akureyri, the "capitol of the north", with its lovely high street, to catch our breath (and dine on whale and guillemot), before the long drive back across the Trollaskagi high county, stopping only briefly in scenic Husavik for coffee (and rhubarb pie . . . lots of rhubarb in Iceland).
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| dramatic roadside rock formations |
Husavik is a prototypical example of the impossibly scenic coastal Icelandic town, with hills covered in purple lupine, which smells like lavender mixed with eucalyptus. In the quaint harbour, eider float lazily among the brightly painted fishing boats. Just outside town, there is a hot spring and some old wooden fish drying racks.
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| The hills behind Husavik, covered with lupine |
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| Hut and fish drying racks outside Husavik |
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| Husavik Harbor |
Then it was onward into the dramatic Westfiords and to Isafjordur for a couple of days.
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| coastline scene along the Fjords |
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| Trollaskagi high county |
The following morning, we explored the nearby Seljalandsdalur valley and Valagil waterfall, then topped it off with a steep climb up Naustahvilft, literally the "troll's chair", overlooking Isafjordur. This effort earned us a brilliant lunch of salt cod and lamb (along with rhubarb, a culinary theme of sorts here).
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| Kristen signs the trampers' log at Seljalandsdalur |
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| Richard looking minuscule at Valagil |
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| up and up to the seat of the Troll's chair |
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| Naustahvilft, overlooking Isafjordur. |
As much as we craved a nap, we had scheduled a tour out to Vigur ("spear") island to see a puffin and guillemot colony, and to be attacked by swarms of nesting arctic terns.
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| Vigur Island, where terns rain terror from above |
By this time, driving in and out of fjords and over mountain passes on one lane roads had lost some of its allure. A well made macchiato at Ratreskfjordur gave us enough resolve to make in on to Latrabjarg, the westernmost point of Europe. The stunning sea cliffs, inhabited by millions of birds, stretch for miles.
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| Latrabjarg |
Luckily, there was helpful signage on how not to fall off the edge.
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| cheaper than a guard rail |
We took the last ferry across Breidafjordur, stopping briefly at Flatey Island en route to Stykkisholmur, the final stop in the 'impossibly charming Icelandic towns' tour.
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| Flatey Island |
Stykkisholmur was our gateway the following morning to the peninsula and Snaefellsjokull, the glacial mountain featured in both Haldor Laxness' novel Under the Glacier and Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth.
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| Snaefellsjokull, in a rare unclouded moment, seen from Flatey |
Before heading back to Reykjavik, we took a brief boat tour through the bay, with its unique ecosystem of coastal islands, spotting our first a sea eagle and dining on raw kina and scallops pulled directly from the water.
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| a basalt island in Breidafjordur Bay |
On our final day (well, since the sun never set, it was all really just one day), we took a dramatic flight over the only place on Earth that a tectonic plate crosses land (as if we needed another reminder of the forces that shaped this dramatic landscape).
