Iceland Day 8-10
I got up in time for this morning’s tour, but I was actually late and we missed the bus… Steve’s alarm clock wasn’t set, but he was ready in 37 seconds. All he had to do was stand up. The lesson here is that in Iceland, a bus might actually be early. Yes, you did just read that right, an early bus. Luckily for us though, there was a taxi across the road that got us to the BSI before our early coach. The taxi driver had lived in Cambridge, and knew it better than either of us, which was funny, as our other 2 taxi drivers had both visited it too. We met the Dutch couple from the 4x4 tour yesterday, and it turned out they were going on the same bus as us – small country. They’d also had puffin the night before for dinner – they’d needed a couple each to get full.
Tour: Snowmobiles… Reykjavik Excursions again
Duration: 0830 – 18:30
Cost: 19,000 - £138
Our guide was Leifur, or Leif, a.k.a ‘the Encyclopaedia Icelandica’. He knew everything, and talked to us nearly non stop for about 8 hours. Again, I’ve got a lot of it down but, if you’ve read this far, you’re probably bordering on getting bored anyway.
One funny story though, an MP called Arni Johnsen flew in a small plane with a pilot friend of his through a small rock archway over the sea, and nearly got sacked because of it. He was then convicted of embezzlement and sent to a country club jail, where he was allowed out to sing at Iceland’s most raucous music festival. Then his friends secured his release while the prime minister was out of the country, and then he got himself elected the MP for the Westmann Islands. He looks a bit like Boris Johnson too.
Tour: Snowmobiles… Reykjavik Excursions again
Duration: 0830 – 18:30
Cost: 19,000 - £138
Our guide was Leifur, or Leif, a.k.a ‘the Encyclopaedia Icelandica’. He knew everything, and talked to us nearly non stop for about 8 hours. Again, I’ve got a lot of it down but, if you’ve read this far, you’re probably bordering on getting bored anyway.
One funny story though, an MP called Arni Johnsen flew in a small plane with a pilot friend of his through a small rock archway over the sea, and nearly got sacked because of it. He was then convicted of embezzlement and sent to a country club jail, where he was allowed out to sing at Iceland’s most raucous music festival. Then his friends secured his release while the prime minister was out of the country, and then he got himself elected the MP for the Westmann Islands. He looks a bit like Boris Johnson too.
Talking of voting, Icelandic farmers were given a vote to decide whether to keep the smaller Icelandic cow or to replace it with more productive foreign breeds. The Icelandic cow won, and to date is still the only cow to have ever won an election.
What isn’t so funny is that until 1918, alcohol was banned from Iceland! Beer over 2% was only allowed after 1989, and wine was only let in after Spain and Portugal said, ‘If you don’t buy our wine, we’ll stop buying your dried fish and wool.’ Money, even in Iceland, comes before morals.
The tour went along the ring road and passed the same things we’d seen every day for the past 4 now. The same guide spiel too was wearing a bit thin by now, but at least Liefur was funny. He explained that married 35 year old men were now 5Kg fatter than their unmarried counterparts. This was because, apparently, that an unmarried man comes home from work, finds nothing in the fridge, and so goes to bed. The married man comes home, finds nothing in bed, and so goes to the fridge. Cue the usual chuckles and polite laughter on the bus. Another quote, ‘the only army in Iceland is the Salvation army,’ got less polite laughter. Apparently there’s also so much salmon in the south that even the cats get sick of it, which probably explains the rising popularity of KFC.
Horse meat is commonly eaten in Iceland, as the horses that can’t be taught to ride are deemed to be useful only for eating. Attempts were made to export it to the UK during WWII by the national slaughter company. Apart from the initials of the name of the company being SS, its translation into English, ‘The South Shore Killing Company’ probably was the reason why it didn’t catch on.
What isn’t so funny is that until 1918, alcohol was banned from Iceland! Beer over 2% was only allowed after 1989, and wine was only let in after Spain and Portugal said, ‘If you don’t buy our wine, we’ll stop buying your dried fish and wool.’ Money, even in Iceland, comes before morals.
The tour went along the ring road and passed the same things we’d seen every day for the past 4 now. The same guide spiel too was wearing a bit thin by now, but at least Liefur was funny. He explained that married 35 year old men were now 5Kg fatter than their unmarried counterparts. This was because, apparently, that an unmarried man comes home from work, finds nothing in the fridge, and so goes to bed. The married man comes home, finds nothing in bed, and so goes to the fridge. Cue the usual chuckles and polite laughter on the bus. Another quote, ‘the only army in Iceland is the Salvation army,’ got less polite laughter. Apparently there’s also so much salmon in the south that even the cats get sick of it, which probably explains the rising popularity of KFC.
Horse meat is commonly eaten in Iceland, as the horses that can’t be taught to ride are deemed to be useful only for eating. Attempts were made to export it to the UK during WWII by the national slaughter company. Apart from the initials of the name of the company being SS, its translation into English, ‘The South Shore Killing Company’ probably was the reason why it didn’t catch on. Have a look at this picture I didn't take - could you eat these guys? Note that they're small enough to look in without bending down.
The coach plodded onto Solheimajokull, where we’d visited a few days ago, and dropped off half the people on the coach who were going to do an ice walk across the glacier. We went further south to the glacier of Mỳrdalsjökull (Murders-ya-koll) to suit up for the snowmobile ride. I fell asleep on the bumpy track up to the glacier, which Steve found funny, but I missed the view. For the first time in this holiday, we got some proper weather – it began to snow. As we reached the log cabin where the snowmobiles were, it started flying down in flurries, but it seemed to fit the backdrop.
We got into a set of overalls, and then clambered into a huge waterproof covering layer, before being given thin balaclavas, boots and a helmet. No goggles. I was waiting for some, but they never came.
The gloves we got were thin little cotton black things, probably £0.50 from Tesco, which wasn’t reassuring as hail started to smack into the wooden hut. We then walked over to the snowmobiles, sinking into a foot of snow with each step, and were told how they work. The nice touch was the handle heaters, and even the accelerator handle heater – which might give you an idea of how cold it gets when going at speed. The snowmobiles are big hulks of engine, and looked like they meant business. Me and Steve tried to get one each, even though we’d only paid to share, but unfortunately we didn’t get away with it. As it turned out, very unfortunately.
The coach plodded onto Solheimajokull, where we’d visited a few days ago, and dropped off half the people on the coach who were going to do an ice walk across the glacier. We went further south to the glacier of Mỳrdalsjökull (Murders-ya-koll) to suit up for the snowmobile ride. I fell asleep on the bumpy track up to the glacier, which Steve found funny, but I missed the view. For the first time in this holiday, we got some proper weather – it began to snow. As we reached the log cabin where the snowmobiles were, it started flying down in flurries, but it seemed to fit the backdrop.
We got into a set of overalls, and then clambered into a huge waterproof covering layer, before being given thin balaclavas, boots and a helmet. No goggles. I was waiting for some, but they never came.
The gloves we got were thin little cotton black things, probably £0.50 from Tesco, which wasn’t reassuring as hail started to smack into the wooden hut. We then walked over to the snowmobiles, sinking into a foot of snow with each step, and were told how they work. The nice touch was the handle heaters, and even the accelerator handle heater – which might give you an idea of how cold it gets when going at speed. The snowmobiles are big hulks of engine, and looked like they meant business. Me and Steve tried to get one each, even though we’d only paid to share, but unfortunately we didn’t get away with it. As it turned out, very unfortunately. This picture is courtesy of Reykjavik Excursions.
I drove first and we headed out in a convoy of mobiles in a line along a track, that was quickly being covered by the falling snow. They skid around a bit, but as long as you don’t try to treat them like a car, they are simple to use. Saying that, one fat old guy couldn’t take any more after about 3 minutes, and had to turn back. My tactic of lagging behind and then speeding up was paying off – we were told if we went off the track we wouldn’t continue – and I found the top speed downhill was only about 35 miles an hour. Although saying that, going that fast down a slippery hill when you can’t see because of the snow, isn’t probably that safe. Bloody fun though (I think there was some maniacal laughter) and we did manage to overtake two slow wimps when the guides were occupied elsewhere. We stopped at one photo stop, with everyone pulling up neatly in a line. Except me anyway, as I came in far too fast, did a turning stop and lifted the whole snowmobile up onto one ski before slamming down to a perfect stop only a foot ahead of the rest of the nice neat line. Probably sounds more dramatic than it was. The guide who was waiting for us did give me a wide grin though, I think he approved.
We soon set off again, and the hail and snow mixture intensified into a full on blizzard – at least when your flying around at 30 mph it feels like a blizzard. We were going straight into it, and it was tearing my face apart. It was hitting my eyeballs, and all I wanted to do was close them, except when I blinked my eyelids froze shut. Driving beside a hundred foot drop and only barely being able to see the mobile 5 metres in front, I though that closing my eyes for longer than a blink wasn’t a great plan. So I bit my balaclava and dragged it over my face so it was covering half of one eye, and managed to stay on track by using it as an eye shield. When we stopped at the half way point, Steve kindly pointed out that I looked like a twat.
We stopped at the top of the glacier, to admire an astonishing view. However, as there was a blizzard blowing, we could only just about see the other end of the line of parked snowmobiles, let alone other mountains. So the guide made a picture map out of snow to show us what we could have been seeing. It was in the shape of a woman, and you can guess the jokes he made. For the return ride, Steve took over the controls. I’m not going to comment on the driving skills displayed, except that as we went down dangerously on one slope away from the track, he pointed the snowmobile down hill and floored it. Apparently this is what you do in a Landrover to stop it rolling. However, on a snowmobile, what happens is that it tips over, and that is exactly what happened. Remembering what we’d been told to do in this situation, I gripped tightly with knees and hands, and as the heavy machine thudded into the ground, all I got was the smallest of bumps as it sank a bit into the deep snow with me safely still on it. Steve on the other hand, jumped off it in midair and barrel rolled down the glacier in case the mobile followed him. He only had five or six bruises, and we were up and running again within 2 minutes. We did laugh. A quote from Steve, ‘I think it was just a lack of experience, personally.’ Parking it was no easier, as Steve put it on a slope and after I’d gone, it started to fall down it... which could have ended in tears. My gloves were completely useless by now, and after our little accident, my boots were now full of little puddles of icy water. I had been clever enough to bring my waterproof socks with me, but not clever enough to put them on, so I couldn’t actually feel my toes. If you go snowmobiling, bring changes of everything, and drive as fast as you can. Also, all the rides on this glacier at one hour only. This is because there is a spectacularly big volcano under it that is about twenty years overdue for an eruption. It will take one hour for it to melt the glacier when it finally does, so the snowmobiles need time to get off and get out of the way of the melt water. 350 cubic metres a second will flood down the valley then, and the farmhouses that lie in the way must have some sleepless nights.
The return journey was via Skógarfoss again, and Steve still didn’t climb up to the top as he is, ‘leaving something to do for next time.’ There is some twisted logic in there somewhere. The weather down from the glacier was bright sunshine again, but the ice walkers had been rained on so much they looked like I did when I’d come out of the waterfall a few days ago. The waterfall I said one day I’d go back to with full waterproofs, Seljalandsfoss. I was expecting to wait at least a year, but then the guide said it was our next stop. And I’d brought my waterproof trousers. Coooool.
I went in again, and this time didn’t get half as wet due to the waterproofs, even though the fall was stronger due to the recent inland rain. The effect of being under the fall wasn’t as good second time around though, so my advice is to do it right once. Of course, I now know that my waterproofs work under more extreme situations than they’re really likely to face, so it was worth doing again.
A dry trip back to Reykjavik was much better than the earlier wet one, even if the guide kept talking to me in Danish. I don’t know why.
I am writing this drunk out of my skull at 11:05 pm on the longest day of the year, with the sun still just about in the sky. It is dull, and as always at night, feels like about 6:30pm in the UK. There are a few clouds around, but none are over us, and I’m still amazed that we’ve had no rain to speak of - away from the glacier today. Anyway, going to look around town now.
We soon set off again, and the hail and snow mixture intensified into a full on blizzard – at least when your flying around at 30 mph it feels like a blizzard. We were going straight into it, and it was tearing my face apart. It was hitting my eyeballs, and all I wanted to do was close them, except when I blinked my eyelids froze shut. Driving beside a hundred foot drop and only barely being able to see the mobile 5 metres in front, I though that closing my eyes for longer than a blink wasn’t a great plan. So I bit my balaclava and dragged it over my face so it was covering half of one eye, and managed to stay on track by using it as an eye shield. When we stopped at the half way point, Steve kindly pointed out that I looked like a twat.
We stopped at the top of the glacier, to admire an astonishing view. However, as there was a blizzard blowing, we could only just about see the other end of the line of parked snowmobiles, let alone other mountains. So the guide made a picture map out of snow to show us what we could have been seeing. It was in the shape of a woman, and you can guess the jokes he made. For the return ride, Steve took over the controls. I’m not going to comment on the driving skills displayed, except that as we went down dangerously on one slope away from the track, he pointed the snowmobile down hill and floored it. Apparently this is what you do in a Landrover to stop it rolling. However, on a snowmobile, what happens is that it tips over, and that is exactly what happened. Remembering what we’d been told to do in this situation, I gripped tightly with knees and hands, and as the heavy machine thudded into the ground, all I got was the smallest of bumps as it sank a bit into the deep snow with me safely still on it. Steve on the other hand, jumped off it in midair and barrel rolled down the glacier in case the mobile followed him. He only had five or six bruises, and we were up and running again within 2 minutes. We did laugh. A quote from Steve, ‘I think it was just a lack of experience, personally.’ Parking it was no easier, as Steve put it on a slope and after I’d gone, it started to fall down it... which could have ended in tears. My gloves were completely useless by now, and after our little accident, my boots were now full of little puddles of icy water. I had been clever enough to bring my waterproof socks with me, but not clever enough to put them on, so I couldn’t actually feel my toes. If you go snowmobiling, bring changes of everything, and drive as fast as you can. Also, all the rides on this glacier at one hour only. This is because there is a spectacularly big volcano under it that is about twenty years overdue for an eruption. It will take one hour for it to melt the glacier when it finally does, so the snowmobiles need time to get off and get out of the way of the melt water. 350 cubic metres a second will flood down the valley then, and the farmhouses that lie in the way must have some sleepless nights.
The return journey was via Skógarfoss again, and Steve still didn’t climb up to the top as he is, ‘leaving something to do for next time.’ There is some twisted logic in there somewhere. The weather down from the glacier was bright sunshine again, but the ice walkers had been rained on so much they looked like I did when I’d come out of the waterfall a few days ago. The waterfall I said one day I’d go back to with full waterproofs, Seljalandsfoss. I was expecting to wait at least a year, but then the guide said it was our next stop. And I’d brought my waterproof trousers. Coooool.
I went in again, and this time didn’t get half as wet due to the waterproofs, even though the fall was stronger due to the recent inland rain. The effect of being under the fall wasn’t as good second time around though, so my advice is to do it right once. Of course, I now know that my waterproofs work under more extreme situations than they’re really likely to face, so it was worth doing again.
A dry trip back to Reykjavik was much better than the earlier wet one, even if the guide kept talking to me in Danish. I don’t know why.
I am writing this drunk out of my skull at 11:05 pm on the longest day of the year, with the sun still just about in the sky. It is dull, and as always at night, feels like about 6:30pm in the UK. There are a few clouds around, but none are over us, and I’m still amazed that we’ve had no rain to speak of - away from the glacier today. Anyway, going to look around town now.
Day 9
Today is our penultimate day in Iceland, the sun is up, and it was 12 degrees all night. This place is great. Down by the thermal swimming pool, U2’s ‘Beautiful Day’ is blasting out across this part of the city, and people are out and about (except Steve, obviously). A few are sunbathing in the hazy morning – and I’ve spent more time wearing sun cream than waterproofs on this holiday – not exactly as we’d expected. I don’t want anyone to read this though and to think this is in any way normal weather. It’s not. Expect more rain and wind – the wind never really died down during the ‘day’ even on the sunniest of afternoons. The weather was unusual enough on Friday to get nearly every Icelander in Reykjavik leaving their city to create a hundred mile convoy of 4x4s heading out to holiday homes for the weekend, which meant that hardly anyone was out that night. Ragnar from Superjeep.is was going to go horse riding from the city up to Þingvellir for the weekend, and this is typical of what the locals do. We however, are doing nothing today except eating more Icelandic food from the local shop, and I’m going to watch some football after seeing Holland go out yesterday.
Today is our penultimate day in Iceland, the sun is up, and it was 12 degrees all night. This place is great. Down by the thermal swimming pool, U2’s ‘Beautiful Day’ is blasting out across this part of the city, and people are out and about (except Steve, obviously). A few are sunbathing in the hazy morning – and I’ve spent more time wearing sun cream than waterproofs on this holiday – not exactly as we’d expected. I don’t want anyone to read this though and to think this is in any way normal weather. It’s not. Expect more rain and wind – the wind never really died down during the ‘day’ even on the sunniest of afternoons. The weather was unusual enough on Friday to get nearly every Icelander in Reykjavik leaving their city to create a hundred mile convoy of 4x4s heading out to holiday homes for the weekend, which meant that hardly anyone was out that night. Ragnar from Superjeep.is was going to go horse riding from the city up to Þingvellir for the weekend, and this is typical of what the locals do. We however, are doing nothing today except eating more Icelandic food from the local shop, and I’m going to watch some football after seeing Holland go out yesterday.
Day 10
0220 am. Sun’s up, Steve’s in bed and I’m about to go down to the harbour to see the sunrise from behind the Esja mountain across the bay.
***
Back now, and sitting in Keflavik airport waiting to board the flight.
I left to walk through Reykjavik a bit late last night, and realised that I was probably going to miss the sunrise. As I passed a certain building I’m not going to mention, I saw a pile of pedal bikes leaning up against the wall. A thought struck me, the 45 minutes walk would be cut down to about 10 if I had a bike.
So I hauled up an old bike with a flat back tyre and gingerly rode down the bright streets. I wasn’t stealing by the way, I was borrowing without the explicit permission of the owner… Pitch black would have been more appropriate than sunlight for my bike ‘hire’ though, and I couldn’t help ducking into a side street when I saw a police car, lights flashing, turning into the road in front of me. I wobbled noisily down to the seafront, after having to make some running repairs, and reached the Viking ship monument in time to take a picture to prove where I’d been. I also saw that clouds had finally started to build up, and were going to completely obscure the sunrise. So basically, I’d wasted my time and ruined a perfectly good bike for nothing. If you are reading this as a member of the Icelandic police force, I made this story up to bulk out this entry, and none of it’s in any way true.
0220 am. Sun’s up, Steve’s in bed and I’m about to go down to the harbour to see the sunrise from behind the Esja mountain across the bay.
***
Back now, and sitting in Keflavik airport waiting to board the flight.
I left to walk through Reykjavik a bit late last night, and realised that I was probably going to miss the sunrise. As I passed a certain building I’m not going to mention, I saw a pile of pedal bikes leaning up against the wall. A thought struck me, the 45 minutes walk would be cut down to about 10 if I had a bike.
So I hauled up an old bike with a flat back tyre and gingerly rode down the bright streets. I wasn’t stealing by the way, I was borrowing without the explicit permission of the owner… Pitch black would have been more appropriate than sunlight for my bike ‘hire’ though, and I couldn’t help ducking into a side street when I saw a police car, lights flashing, turning into the road in front of me. I wobbled noisily down to the seafront, after having to make some running repairs, and reached the Viking ship monument in time to take a picture to prove where I’d been. I also saw that clouds had finally started to build up, and were going to completely obscure the sunrise. So basically, I’d wasted my time and ruined a perfectly good bike for nothing. If you are reading this as a member of the Icelandic police force, I made this story up to bulk out this entry, and none of it’s in any way true.
This is probably the best sunrise picture I got... and its rubbish. Can you spot the bike wheel?
I went back to the campsite at about 4am and left the bike were I’d ‘found’ it. Then I slept under my tarp (see picture) and in my bivi bag, deciding that I should spend one night in Iceland outside of my tent. Surprisingly, I was warm when I got up, although I had to rush to pack everything in time to catch our bus to the airport.Of course, there was one place in Iceland we hadn’t yet been that is probably the most famous tourist spot in the whole island, and we were going there on the way to the airport. The Blue Lagoon. A convenient bus trip (‘The Blue Lagoon Bus’ by Netbus, http://www.bustravel.is/ for 4,000kr - £30 inc entry to Lagoon(£17 on its own)) would take us to the Lagoon, keep our big bags on the coach, and then take us to the airport afterwards.
The Blue Lagoon is an ultra-modern health spa that made me and Steve feel very out of place. There are wristbands for lockers and towel hire and everything else you can think of. The lagoon 
itself is more turquoise than blue, as steam gently lifts off its surface into the chilly air. Unless the cloud cover is total, sunglasses are a must, and without them I was squinting constantly. The water is body temperature, but there are cooler and warmer bits depending on where you go. There’s some pretty disgusting gunk at the bottom of holes in the rock, mostly human skin and hair, but as long as you keep your fingers away from the bottom you’ll be fine. Lying in the water is actually quite relaxing, and it’s no wonder than some people go twice in a stay. It really is just what you need either before or after a flight.
Then we drove to Keflavik airport, where Steve set off more detectors and was searched again. I loaded up on handmade Nicaraguan cigars, and then we flew back to England to end the holiday, where the weather was bad.
itself is more turquoise than blue, as steam gently lifts off its surface into the chilly air. Unless the cloud cover is total, sunglasses are a must, and without them I was squinting constantly. The water is body temperature, but there are cooler and warmer bits depending on where you go. There’s some pretty disgusting gunk at the bottom of holes in the rock, mostly human skin and hair, but as long as you keep your fingers away from the bottom you’ll be fine. Lying in the water is actually quite relaxing, and it’s no wonder than some people go twice in a stay. It really is just what you need either before or after a flight.Then we drove to Keflavik airport, where Steve set off more detectors and was searched again. I loaded up on handmade Nicaraguan cigars, and then we flew back to England to end the holiday, where the weather was bad.
Go to Iceland.
posted by Clive at
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