And now we present scenes from the road that we could not classify, in somewhat chronological order. First up, some town (the first we stopped in after leaving Rekjavik) with a bridge that lead us to the bovine cubism pictured below.
Hella rock pals scattered about
And then our first peak at turfed buildings.
Our first nite, after raw curry middle aged Icelander RV huddle, we set out to find a hot spring, plugging its coordinates into our gps and hitting the road through lunar landscapes.
We followed the gps path through one unmarked dirt road to the next. The sun rose from its upper horizon bed around one am
And it bathed everything in a reddish glow, making our hearts go aflutter and made the fenced off (and therefore un soakable) hot spring destination not matter.
Soon enough, we were on our way to rounding the Snæfellsnes peninsula. We found the roundish fellow below (not Ted)
And melissa rejoiced in small spaces.
Just past that rocky idol, we found these basalt bird cliffs to marvel at. The Snæfellsnes peninsula is capped on the very edge by a glacier. Jules Verne was convinced that somewhere under that glacier was a portal to the center of the earth, which then encouraged him to write "Journey To The Center Of The Earth." This glacier also inspired native son Halldor Laxness to write the absurdist masterwork "Under The Glacier" (which we both recommend highly).
I think it was some Danish vessel, come to find its final rest on the shores of an island it probably used to help occupy. It was lovely to behold.
We were then met with the stunning turquoise waters of this far off fjord while we winded west. Ted takes it all in, trying to store its hues and breezes and overall aura into his brain vault.
Here we find him again, along with one of our French cohorts, soaking up the scene.
As we made our way further and further west with the french cramped into the back of the kamper, we crested a mountain peak which had the mustached/worried chap below perched at it snowy peak.
Amazing. Art for the select few, perhaps just for the rock stacker/cement shaper who built it and we were just incidental.
Epic scenery past the mountain pass rock giant as clouds swooped about and Ted refined his manual skills.
We pushed west until we couldn't any longer. We made our way to the absolutely massive bird cliffs of Bjargtangar. The cliffs and the bird life that lives there opened up to us slowly as we hiked up the cliffs. We came upon the puffin below and he (or she?) absolutely blew our mind. We could not stop looking at it and taking pictures.
Ted crept closer and closer to the edge to bask in the puffin glory.
Until we realized that the cliffs below were absolutely overflowing with millions of the clumsy fellows we first met and obsessed over (that little speck on top of the cliff is Melissa).
Atlantic gazing...
We docked, after many other West Fjordian adventures, in the capital city of the West Fjords (Isafjordur) and the pallet palace pictured below greeted us at our chosen campsite.
And naturally Ted played about in the shabby interior of the palace.
We strolled about the town, finding more earthern buildings.
And a mini ramp no one was skating, much to Ted's dismay. He kept hoping for someone, anyone to borrow a board from.
In the middle of town we found a park that housed this badass whalebone structure.
and then this humble wooded fellow.
We sipped coffee and tea, put on various Icelandic records and reacquainted ourselves with the internet, who we had ignored the two weeks prior.
Perfect
After exiting the West Fjords, we soon entered the land of Hvítserkur where we promptly began building a cairn.
Our humble structure (in the foreground) took awhile to make.
But made a great camera stand to take a ten second timer shot from.
We spent a few days in the tiny art hamlet of Seydisfjordur.
Surveying the scene...
Again, wishing for a roller board
We spent many hours at Skaftfell. This place was incredible. A one stop shop cafe/art gallery/arts education and advocacy center/bar/venue/wood fired pizza shop and so much more.
And learned about Dieter Roth, thanks to the Roth library/gallery they have at the center (the pictures above Melissa's head were some of his pieces).
Below is an example of his ambidextrous works
So much Roth time.
Fog creepin into the narrow fjord...
Melissa loved the fuzzy plants we found everywhere on the island. Here, she communes with one.
Saw this along the way back to the big city
And enjoyed the black sands of Vik immensely
We had our doubts when we were told that we'd probably spend five or six hours watching the icebergs. I mean, big chunks of ice floating in water, how impossibly captivating/incredible could that be?
Well, it turns out that big chunks of ice are VERY captivating indeed. We probably did spend an entire day at the glacier lagoon, watching on the edge of our seats for a little action. There was nothing more rewarding than to see islands of ice suddenly crack in half, making waves, and pushing all the other chunks of ice into motion.
Uhg! so good!
Another unexpected delight of the glacier lagoon, was watching fellow iceberg onlookers, and the ways they chose to experience, and document, the bergs.
Although Iceland (according to one camp warden we talked to) is fairly godless, every tiny hamlet we would come across had a church. Sometimes these towns would be little more than a church with one or two homes near the church. We got the impression that although the faith that initially went into building these churches is all but gone in the national psyche of the Icelandic people, they still have a deep love and respect for their cultural heritage. The church above (and the five pictures below) was just one of many we visited and felt very grateful for that love and respect the Icelandic people show for their heritage.
Inside the above mentioned church, Jesus looks over the empty sanctuary of stars and ancient altar pieces.
There were one thousand stars in the roof of the church...well nine hundred and ninety nine to be exact. Our tour guide showed us a spot where one of the stars fell off/was stolen. No matter the number, it was incredibly beautiful to stand under and behold.
Below you will find said tour guide. We pressed him for as much information as we could and he delivered. We delved into pretty deep family history of the area on top of all of the information on the church that we could squeeze out of him. It's incredible what people will tell you with a little encouragement/excitement about what they are talking about. The headstone he is pointing to was found in a field near the church. He was explaining the ancient Danish that adorned the headstone.
The church below, in Kirkjubæjarklaustur, was built on the spot that during the incredibly apocalyptic/hellish eruption of the nearby Laki volcano in 1783, a local pastor gave a sermon that the townspeople would come to believe stopped the lava flow in its flowing a few feet from the church.
We also spotted some space shippy houses of worship
As well as a turfed house of G-d
We also came across the beaut pictured below whilst traipsing about the outskirts of Akureyri.
Leif Eriksson, perched just outside Hallgrimmskirkja, proudly proclaiming his discovery of Vinland at least a thousand years before that other guy.
The architect designed Halfrimmskirkja wanted to pay hommage to the towering columns of basalt found throughout Iceland's rugged coastline.
Amen.
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