Road Tripping (in North Iceland)

I had the marvelous opportunity over the last three days to go on a little road trip with my friend Erin, who is living and studying in Reykjavik. We took off from Reykjavik Saturday morning and headed north. Our destination was Grund, a farm just south of Akureyri owned by Erin's relatives, Guðjón and Guðrún. They have a diary farm there, in valley so incredibly, marvelously, insanely beautiful it almost doesn't seem real... but more about that later.

On the way to Grund we made several stops, the first of which was to explore some craters near the University at Bifrost. There was a nice wooden pathway set up to guide visitors up the hill and around the top of one of the craters. We had an excellent view of the layered sides of the mountains around us, and a great array of colors spread across the landscape below. It may have been a bit crowded with brightly jacketed tourists (I'm a neutral color jacketed visitor, thank you very much), but if there was a better starter stop for this road trip, I cannot picture it. 

We continued along on the way north to Hvítserkur, an interesting rock formation off the coast of the Vatnsnes peninsula that both Erin and I have had on our Icelandic bucket lists. Erin drove us down winding, dirt roads, well off the beaten path, which is my preferred way of adventuring. Hvítserkur is no great secret to Icelandic visitors, but because it isn't on the main road the number of people checking it out seems to stay relatively small, and the site manages to keep some of its mystery (compared to some other more easily accessible sites). I've been hearing for awhile now that Hvítserkur "isn't as big as you think it's going to be" so I had lowered my expectations. No complaints here. I think it was a perfectly nice rock standing in the middle of nowhere; well deserving of attention and a couple of photos. 

Google Maps recommended taking the long way around the peninsula, perhaps in an attempt to bring us to better roads? The roads were no better than the ones we came in on, but did lead us to another spontaneous stop where we got to take a little hike and see some seals. It was on a farm called Illugastaðir, which may sound familiar to anyone who has read Hannah Kent's excellent novel, Burial Rites. This book is based on a true story of events that happened on this farm and surrounding areas. http://hannahkentauthor.com/burial-rites

There was an excellent little hut set up for seal viewing, complete with guestbook and binoculars. We watched the seals for a long while as they lounged on the rocks and splashed in the icy cold waters, marveling at their size and level of cuteness. A short time later I received a gift from above in the form of a Kria emphatically pooping on my jacket, which cut my marveling short. Time to get back in the car.

There are seals over there on those rocks, but you will just have to trust me since I did not have my fancy camera with to get a good zoom. 

Nice views on the way towards Hvammstangi. Whether or not you are for the lupins (which are super invasive) you have to admit they are lovely at this time of year.

Stephan G. Stephansson monument

We arrived in Grund around dinnertime. Guðjón was out finishing the evening milking of the cows and Guðrún was at the house to greet us. Mouthwatering smells emanated from the kitchen, and we sat and chatted with our hostess over an appetizer of coffee and cookies. In my experience, Icelandic hospitality is second to none, and this was no exception. Coffee and cookies beats crudités and canapés any day of the week in my book. After a tasty dinner, Guðjón showed us around the farm yard, which includes a quirkily beautiful little church, and many, many cows. As it turns out, I love cows. I learn so much about myself on these trips.

Grund church

Making new friends, wherever I go.

Erin and Guðjón with the cows at Grund

On day two of this wild, Icelandic adventure, Erin and I went to Húsavik to do some whale watching. On the way there we stopped at Jólahúsið (The Christmas House), which was very close to where we were staying at Grund. I can't say that I was blown away by the spirit of the season that was supposed to be clinging to this place. It smelled pretty nice, and it was cute, in an overpriced Christmas ornament extravaganza sort of way, I guess.

Christmas House

The weather in Húsavik was drizzly, windy, and cold, which is not ideal conditions for being on a boat in the middle of the ocean for three hours. We boarded the wooden vessel, called Náttfari (night traveler) and clumsily zipped ourselves into waterproof suits AND raincoats. The process of getting into this rain gear could politely be described as a comical misadventure. I couldn't move any of my appendages once I was decked out in the gear, but I was fairly warm and dry. My optimism and excitement about seeing whales, however, flagged almost immediately after we left the harbor and I felt the true power of the wind and waves out on the open ocean. I'd been out whale watching in Iceland in the exact same place once before, a few years ago, but apparently the conditions were much gentler that day. I almost immediately began to feel seasick, and I spent the first two hours of the trip trying to convince myself I wasn't feeling as terrible as I was. I lost the battle as we moved into the third hour at sea and spent the last 45 minutes of the trip below deck getting reacquainted with the plökkfiskur I'd had for lunch a few hours before. I did see a couple of humpback whales before succumbing to the queasiness, so it wasn't a complete loss.

I managed to rally on the drive home after a quick power nap. We had dinner again with Guðjón and Guðrún at Grund, and then Guðjón gave Erin and I a wider tour of the farm, driving up the mountain for some magnificent evening views. So stunning.

Road trip pals!

On Monday, the last day of the road trip, we said a leisurely goodbye to our amazing hosts at Grund and began the drive northwest towards Hofsós. Erin was kindly going to drop me off there on her way back to Reykjavik, which worked out fine if we took the scenic route through Dalvík, Ólafsfjörður, and Siglufjörður. For the next 9 days or so I plan to stay in Hofsós with Valgeir and Gunna, volunteering at the Icelandic Emigration Center/Vesturfarasetrið where I worked last summer, and hanging around in the beautiful Skagafjörður region.

Our drive toward Hofsós took us through many mountain tunnels, several of them one-lane tunnels. It is important not to think about how much rock is over your head, waiting to crush you into tiny bits when you are going through these tunnels.

Dalvík and Ólafsfjörður we just passed right through, but we made a long stop in Siglufjörður to have lunch, visit the Herring Museum, and go for a hike in a legitimate Icelandic forest. You might be asking, why would anyone want to go to a museum about herring? Well, let me tell you, it is actually a fascinating history museum. http://www.sild.is/en The herring boom in Iceland ran mainly between 1903 and 1968, and was big business, especially in Siglufjörður.

Sjávaréttasúpa (seafood soup) in Siglufjörður

Erin says, "Life is short. Always get the cake."

One of 3 buildings that makes up the Herring Museum

Siglufjörður

Smoke break for the herring processors

Honest to goodness Icelandic forest

Waterfall selfie

Our travels had nearly come to an end. We made one scenic overview stop between Siglufjörður and Hofsós, and then Erin dropped me off at the Emigration Center. It felt as if I had never left. Hofsós feels more than a little bit like home, and I am so happy to be back here now. Stay tuned for Hofsós adventures in my next post.

Hofsós, in all its sunny glory

Viðey

                                                          

                                                                        Goodbye, Minnesota

I'm done with Day 2 of my visit already, and feel like I'm off to a good start. Yesterday I managed to push through an entire day without any significant naps in an effort to get myself right into a semi-normal sleep schedule here. I slept on the plane more than I ever have before (thank you, Melatonin and sleepy time playlist) and was actually feeling pretty fresh (in a gross 6 hours on an airplane in the middle of the night sort of way) when I rolled into Reykjavik around 8:30AM on Wednesday. Erin Jones immediately met me and made me a delicious breakfast, and then we walked to the pool in Vesturbær and had a good soak in the hot tubs. Washed the airplane germs right off. Following a late fish and chips lunch I wandered around for most of the afternoon in an attempt to stay awake before meeting Erin and her boyfriend for a late dinner. Snaps (the restaurant) may charge a ridiculous amount for a chicken caesar salad, but I can almost bet you it's the best dang chicken caesar salad you'll ever eat.

Wandering the slightly bizarre Einar Jónsson sculpture garden. 

I was feeling a little aimless as this trip began. Last summer I had such a solid reason to be here, with the internship and a schedule and everything. This time I didn't really line much up with people ahead of time, though there are lots of people I want to see while I'm here. I just wasn't sure how I was going to spend 3 days during the week while most of my friends here were at work, and there wasn't too much I had in mind to see/do. My enthusiasm was not turned up as high as it has been on other trips when I've felt like I had more of a purpose. 

A full night of sleep brightened my perspective significantly, and I set out today with a single-minded, blinders on goal of going to Viðey, an island in/near the Reykjavik harbor. I was there briefly before in 2012, when I accompanied the Snorri Plus group to listen to Svavar Knútur give a little private concert for everyone. On that visit I hadn't been able to explore much, just for lack of time, and have wanted to head back and check it out ever since. This was my chance.

I did NOT know this...but even once I learned it, I don't know how big Monaco is, so I couldn't be like, "Oh, well, rah rah, it took me roughly two hours to explore Monaco, so I guess I'll plan for that on this island, which is approximately the same size." This trip reinforced something I already suspected about myself... I have absolutely no sense of scale, or of how long it will actually take to explore something. An hour in Mallory adventure estimates means closer to two and a half.

Approaching the island

Unfortunately, though I was pretty sure I was going to go on my little Viðey adventure when I got dressed this morning, I didn't do a great job (or even a mediocre job) dressing for the weather. In my defense, the forecast was wildly misleading... but I should know better by now. I boarded the ferry just as a mean, steady drizzle began, and it didn't let up for a good long while. I'd been on the island all of 5 minutes when I began to bemoan the fact that I had optimistically left my mittens safely tucked away in my room. I made up a little song to sing to myself that I think helped keep the cold away. It went a little something like this, and is admittedly inspired by a Pete the Cat book that one of my students was OBSESSED with this year:

Shoulda brought my mittens, my mittens, my mittens

Shoulda brought my mittens, my dang bleeping mittens::

 Hindsight is 20/20.

You did this to yourself, you fool. It's what you wanted. 

I checked out the southeast (??? directions are not really my thing) part of the island first, which includes the ruins of what used to be a little town. The drizzle was persistent, but my top notch rain jacket repelled the worst of it. That jacket was the beginning and end of my preparedness for this little excursion. 

This used to be a house. Now it is not.

I found myself profoundly jealous of the waterproof birds that cawed and chirped angrily at me as I walked up and down the soggy paths. 

Snack time. 

During a little break to dry off and warm up in the small cafe on the island, the weather took a turn for the better. The drizzle let up and the mist lifted. I could actually see the mainland clearly again, which is comically close to the island. I had the second, larger part of the island left to explore, and I was going to get my 1500 ISK worth and investigate every inch, regardless of conditions.

Imagine Peace tower- Yoko Ono dedicated this to John Lennon. It sends a giant beam of light into the sky at certain times of the year.

Though the rain had cleared, the damage had been done, and the grassy paths were more than a little damp. Within minutes my feet were soaked. At that point it was an "in for a penny, in for a pound" situation and I just decided to go for it. I trekked that water-logged chunk of land from stem to stern, and had a fantastic time.

The sun even came out for a few minutes.

Life lesson: setting soaking wet tennis shoes in the cold breeze for a few minutes does not dry them enough to make a difference. It just makes them wet AND cold when you inevitably have to put them back on. Don't judge me until you're in a position where you're chilly and sore, and completely desperate to remember what dry, un-chafed feet feel like.

Leaving Viðey

This evening I was invited to a lovely dinner at the home of some friends, Halldor and Anna Björg. Halldor was the President of the Snorri Foundation during my program year. Erin (Snorri 2013), and Julie (Snorri 2012), along with Julie's boyfriend, attended the dinner as well. We had a great time visiting.

Tomorrow is another open day. I know I'll find plenty to keep me busy, one way or another, and then Saturday morning Erin Jones and are take off on a weekend road trip to the north, which will be very exciting.

The End of an Era, or at Least an Internship

“But for three months each year, I am completely, stupidly happy, staring out the big windows at these marvelous mountains, the kaleidoscope colors of the sea, the gallery of clouds and weather that moves past, an opera of light and bird cries.” – Bill Holm, Windows of Brimnes, page 203.

My summer is coming to a close. My time in Hofsós is now complete. Three days from now I will be on an airplane back to Minnesota. Five days from now I will be back in my school office overlooking Interstate 94 instead of in the cozy museum lobby overlooking the Hofsós harbor. Opening week of work for staff in Saint Paul Public Schools starts on the 29^th and I will be there, at least physically. My mind will be on a mountaintop somewhere in the north of Iceland.

I’m back in Reykjavik for a few days now. Monday, I took an emotional bus ride from Hofsós back here to the capital. When I left, the weather echoed my mood; not quite raining, but almost. I was not quite crying, but almost. Saying goodbye to Valgeir and Gunna was wrenching. They have been so warm and generous and all together wonderful to me this summer, and I love them dearly. Valgeir reminded me as he drove me to the bus in Sauðárkrókur that I have family in Hofsós now. This warms my heart, and makes it that much more difficult to leave.

Hofsós

The view from my front porch

As the bus pulled me further and further from Hofsós, I made a list of the things I will miss about the quaint little village and the time I spent there this summer. Here is the highlight reel:

1. The mountains, and how they changed color in the different light.
2. The sound of rain on the metal roof that made for incredibly cozy mornings in my attic bedroom. 
3. The beautiful, 3 minute walk to and from work across the bridge and rushing river. Best commute in the world. 
4. Icelandic horses. Every single one. 
1. The faint smell of horses from the farm up on the ridge above the Emigration Center. Depending on which way the wind was blowing, I’d catch a healthy whiff of it when walking to work. 
2. Seeing the horses up on the ridge from my bedroom window. Occasionally waking up to the sound of distant whinnying and/or hoofbeats.
5. Watching the boats coming and going in the harbor. The view from “my office.”
6.  Gunna’s cheerful, “Hallo, hallo!” greeting as she rushes from place to place.
7. Valgeir’s grin as he calls me, “Malla palla,” or makes fun of my use of the phrase “easy peasy.”
8. Long, colorful, introspective walks along the beaches and down the dirt roads outside of town in the evenings. I might even miss the dive-bombing birds a little bit.
9. Family history research as a whole, but especially the flash of excitement or emotion in peoples’ eyes when we would find the correct name of an ancestor in a book or the computer database.
10. The smell of the moss and plants, especially up in the mountains when the sun is shining and it’s nice and warm-ish.
11. Berry picking. Being able to hike and pick berries as I went made me feel like a wild mountaineer that could have survived in the mountains for ages, living off the land. In reality I would have run for home the minute it got dark, but it was nice to imagine for a while.
12. The super suspicious sheep. Sheep can side-eye with the best of them.
13. Wonderfully cool summer temperatures. Never feeling overheated.
14. The sound of the waves lapping (sometimes crashing) up on the rocky beach.
15. The view of the fjord and the mountains from the kitchen sink in Siða that made washing dishes a little less annoying.

"fjord contemplation"

Riding with the district horseback riding club, which was incredible

One of many good thinking spots

I think more than anything, I will miss the person I am in Iceland. Maybe not completely laid back (that will just never happen), but definitely more relaxed. More willing to go with the flow and just see what happens. Many of my normal responsibilities were left behind in Minnesota, and I know I will be returning to them soon enough. But it has been nice to have a little break from the normal day to day worries and schedule. I've been able to take a deep breath or two and just enjoy being, and expecting the unexpected. Sure, the Icelandic “þetta reddast” mindset can drive me a little nuts sometime. This idea, the country’s motto, that “everything will work out” means that there is less emphasis on planning ahead. And I LOVE to plan ahead. It’s my drug of choice. Trying to get an Icelander to commit to (solid, detailed) plans more than a few days ahead of time can be a lesson in frustration. More often than not the response is, “We will talk about it,” or “We will see.” So, if you can’t beat them, join them. It has (mostly) worked for me this summer. Yes, there are times when it would be nice to plan something more than an hour in advance. But, amazingly, it truly always does seem to work out, even when planning is last minute and a little stressful for those of us used to booking events weeks in advance. This has been a good lesson for me both in patience and trust. And I am always thinking I need a little more spontaneity in my life. This fit the bill.

 I may have worked more this summer than I have in a long, long time, but it was fun work. Satisfying work. Heart work, and not just money work. I’m going to try to find more of that once I get home. Change may not be immediate, but it is something I can work towards. I feel recharged. Inspired. I’ve registered for a hippotherapy (horse therapy) workshop in the middle of September, and am making it my goal to try some new things and see where they lead, professionally and personally. My heart is beating a little faster than it was before, anticipating the opportunities that lay before me, and it is a bit more full with these people and places, which is a double edged sword, for now I have more things to miss when I return to Minnesota.

Bill Holm knew of the powerful, recharging powers of Hofsós. It was one of the many things that brought him back there year after year. What drove him to buy his house, Brimnes, and spend so many summers of his life there. It is tempting to copy his choices in this. I could see myself settled in a little house along the beach there. My mother would kill me, but in the days or weeks it would take her to track me down, it would really be lovely.

Bill wrote about how the wider world waited for him to return after spending time in Hofsós. How a commercial and technology driven world still lurked not so far away, but in Hofsós he was able to ignore it for a time. To come and relearn how to enjoy the simple pleasures, good people, and the breathtaking sights that this small town has to offer.

“So I come here to this spare place. A little thinning and pruning is good for the soul. We see more clearly when the noise is less, the objects fewer.” –Bill Holm, Windows of Brimnes, page 24.

            For these three months I have been "stupidly happy," as I thought and pruned, and thought some more. Sure, there were a few times when I felt a bit lonely, but that can happen in Minnesota as well, from time to time. I would not have traded this experience for the world. All it took was a walk along the beach or to watch the sunset over Malmey or þórðarhöfði and I would fall right back into a blissful state. How lucky I was to be there and to have had this opportunity. It was life changing to spend these months in this quirky little town at the edge of the world. A big part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and find a way to stay forever (see above, re: mother killing me). 

Reykjavik sunset

Reykjavik sailboat party

Rooftop patio view of 101 Reykjavik

View from Perlan on this hot and sunny afternoon.

Dramatic statue men at Perlan

Perlan

Erin Jones and I at Perlan

For the next few days here in Reykjavik I have just a few set plans. A couple of coffee and dinner invitations, details often TBD. Erin Jones and I are planning a day trip tomorrow to Snæfellsnes area. I am not too worried about exactly where we will go or what we will do. I’m just happy to have an adventure with my friend. I will “þetta reddast” with the best of them. Mostly I'm just enjoying every last minute I have here and trying not to think too much yet about what exactly will happen once I get home; all the things I will have to do as I start another school/work year, and find a new apartment, and get myself settled again. 

 I’m so lucky to have a job that allows me to have an entire summer off for an adventure like this. I know I will be back in Iceland, probably sooner rather than later. I have too many people and places I love here to stay away for too long.

Thank you to the Snorri Alumni Internship Program, the US Embassy, The Icelandic Emigration Center in Hofsós, and everyone else who helped to put this program together. I’ve had the time of my life.

I started this blogging season with an airport bar selfie. I much
prefer this Hofsós beach selfie taken on one of my last nights in town.