As we headed eastward and south of Reykjavik, leaving the city behind, I was amazed at the wealth of livestock freely roaming the hills and valleys. Apparently, there are few natural predators for the sheep and cows that are pure Icelandic breeds. They looked so happy. Let me say right now that in my next life I'm coming back as an Icelandic sheep.
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| This bridge flew several feet in the air. |
Wind is a big problem for people driving on the island and coverage against getting blown off the road is standard in all insurance plans. I was amazed to see a large piece of a steel bridge lying by the side of the highway, where it had been deposited by a storm. So the gentle breeze that knocked out the power in Columbus for almost a week would be like swatting away a fly to your typical Icelander.
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| Skogar waterfalls. |
Our first stop was at Skogar, where we climbed part of the way up to stand near the first of several beautiful waterfalls we saw on our travels. We didn't go all the way to the top because the weather was in the 50s and we didn't want to get wet. We were shivering, but the native Icelanders were walking around in shorts and sandals, this being their version of summer.
A fabulous outdoor museum is adjacent to the waterfalls. It was established by a ninety-year-old man named Thordur Tomasson, who, alarmed at the lack of historical artifacts in the country, gathered together an enormous collection, too many for us to take in during our short stay in spite of an amusing and informative museum curator.
The surrounding buildings contained reproductions of Icelandic houses in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century--considerably more spare than their counterparts in other European countries.
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| You can't take the boy out of the classroom... |
There was also a schoolhouse, where Terry was able to get his teacher on, having been out of the classroom now for more than a month.
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| Excuse me while I mow the roof. |
Several of the buildings were "underground," meaning they had grass roofs. Surprisingly, we didn't see more of these subterranean dwellings in the places we visited.
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| A less than pristine glacier. |
After we finished at the museum, we walked on the Solheimjokull (have NO idea how to pronounce that) glacier. We slapped on our crampons, grabbed our ice picks, and headed up what looked like an endless expanse of those piles of dirty snow the city plows up and leaves on the side of the road to melt. The glacier is still covered with volcanic ash from the big 2010 eruption.
Walking on crampons took a little getting used to. I had to conquer my fear of falling on my rear end and making an utter fool of myself. I got my footing, though.
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| Good luck becoming a real person. |
Our guide was a recent graduate in electrical engineering who said he was planning to become a "real person" at the end of the summer. I told him to let me know if he ever found out what that was.
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| They'll build a museum to anything. |
The last thing we did was visit a museum that featured an amazing film about the 2010 eruption of Eyjafjallajokull. I can't say the name, and it doesn't sound a bit like it looks. Generally, phonetics are useless in Anglicizing Icelandic words. Terry sat in the front row of the small theater and promptly fell asleep. Some things never change!
We spent the night in a modest hotel in Vik, the southernmost point of the Island. Still, no matter how faraway we felt, the Internet was in the hotel lobby. Across the field was a woolen store that caters to tourists, staying open until 10PM, at which point they roll up whatever streets happen to be available in this town of 400 souls.
