Snow Day

Skaftafell is known for many things --  the Svartifoss waterfall, hikes past rivers and up mountains, two farmhouses that survive and remain after numerous volcanic eruptions -- but we decided to use our time to check out the nearby glacial tongue of Skaftafellsjökull. It's an admittedly easy hike and probably one of the park's lesser attractions, but we'd had our fill of waterfalls and farmhouses, and glaciers are kind of cool as hell, so why not?

The snowfall the night before and the fact that it was the middle of winter meant that we were some of the park's only visitors that day. That turned out to be kind of nice, actually.

Empty parking lot.

Trail blazing. Meaning we went the wrong way.

Oh hey, another waterfall. A mini one, but still.

Drink up.

Glacial tongue ho!

Roy totally scouted out this frame before me.

Look down.

Look up.

Lunch by the glacier.

No joke, this thing had shades of Chilli Chicken.

Seriously, there was no one else out there.

Good trip.

The airport, the next day.

ICY

Whether through conscious intent or just a continued fancy, Roy and I have taken driving trips in the last three foreign countries we've spent any significant amount of time in. My suspicion is that I'm either collecting foreign road experiences, or I just feel a certain mix of adventure and localness in hitting the open road. Tangentially, there may be something to be said about my being from Los Angeles and the fact that I seek insight into a place and its people by sharing the road with them, but I don't know what it is, so I'm not saying it here.

In Iceland, on our last full day in the country, we took a drive eastward, toward Vatnajökull, the largest glacier in Iceland. We were headed for Skaftafell, formerly its own national park before it was absorbed by the larger Vatnajökull National Park, on the southwest corner of Vatnajökull. It's a 4 hour drive from Reykjavik, and while most people who make the trek tend to spend at least a couple of days in the park or along the eastern coast of Iceland, we were short on days and figured the drive itself would be a worthwhile part of the trip.

And so we went.

It snowed the night before we left. The roads were fine, but everything to the side of it got a gorgeous fresh coat.

Some of these vistas were silly.

Snow fields give way to the sea.

As we got further east, the snow gave way to the idyllic fields and farmland we'd gotten a glimpse of on our earlier tour of the south shore. In fact, the first leg of the trip was the exact route we'd taken on the bus.

Little house on the prairie?

Tractor on the road. And I shit you not, as we pulled past, there was a farmer with his boy just going for a drive in it.

Don't know why they discontinued these in the States but it's a SHAM.

Clear skies everywhere.

Until the clouds rolled in out of nowhere. This tended to happen a lot. Weather reports in Iceland, as we were told, are for shit until within a couple of hours.

We spotted a few of these guys throughout the drive. They've been trying to get the ash out of the rivers, but they're not having much luck. This means once the winter ends and the snow melts, the rivers will likely flood into the farms. Living next to a volcano sucks, I guess.

Roy took this one, but he used my camera so I'm stealing it so you can have an intermission between all the landscape/scenery shots. You're welcome.

And we're back. With some Middle Earth shit.

Those last two were from the drive back. Pictures of Skaftafell next time to conclude the Iceland posts.

Smoke On The Water

On our fourth day in Iceland, we finally decided to spend the day in Reykjavik and explore the capital a bit. It's the only city in Iceland -- the only place with a population over 100,000 -- but it's by no means a particularly large place. Still, with 120,000 residents, it encompasses over a third of Iceland's 318,000 peoples.

Its downtown can almost be described as idyllic, full of small restaurants, cafes, and shops, plus an occasional bar or two. Reykjavik's name translates roughly into Bay of Smoke, taken from the steam its founders saw rising from the many geothermal pools in the area. And indeed, the city has several geothermal spas still dotted throughout its neighborhoods (much cheaper than the tourist-ridden Blue Lagoon, but presumably a little more basic and focused in its amenities). Much of the city is in fact powered by geothermal waters and hydroelectricity, making it one of the greenest cities in the world.

On weekend nights, once most tourists have retreated back to their hotels and midnight has come and gone, the locals begin to flood the streets as cafes turn into bars and bars turn into clubs. Lines spill out of numerous establishments and though the crowd gets a bit Eurotrashy for my tastes, it's hard to argue against the sudden liveliness that overtakes the normally quiet (relative to New York or Los Angeles, anyway) city.

The food is on the fairly expensive side, but is not without its own unique character and qualities. Lamb is a common dish, and usually done well. Seafood is also unsurprisingly abundant, and, as such, it is equally convenient to find both good and bad kinds of it (Fiskfélagið, or FishCompany, is especially good). One thing that remains consistent, though, is the quality of the bread and water. I don't know if I was reading too much into my meals, but it seemed no matter how good or bad of a restaurant I ate at, the bread (and we're talking the complimentary stuff here, nothing fancy) and tap water were great. The obvious conclusion would be that good water = tastes great = makes great flour for baking bread. I can accept the first half of that equation, but I swear there's something more in the baking, too, that's doing strange and wondrous things for their crusts.

Anyway.

We spent the day meandering about from place to place, with only occasional destinations in mind. We started with breakfast.

This statue of Leifr Eiricsson stands in front of Hallgrímskirkja Cathedral, the tallest building in Iceland, and was actually a gift from the United States back in 1930. Look at us, all generous-like.

All you need for a park is some trees, some benches, and a sheep cutout-thing.

Cold lens + warm coffeeshop = natural radial blur!

Specially sourced beans from two farms in Colombia, one owned by Luis, and the other by Maria (whose names you might be able to make out on these bags).

Kris actually freaked out a bit when we chanced across the place (Kaffismiðja) because we'd been looking for it a few days earlier and hadn't been able to find it. She had to blog journal about it.

Any place with a record collection that includes Miles is good with me.

Lot of American tastes abound in the city.

Among other things, Reykjavik is known for its pylsurs, or hot dogs. It's a standard dog sitting atop a bed of diced raw and crunchy fried onions, topped with a mustard gravy and another ketchup-esque sauce. I would've taken a picture but it was raining and frankly, I was hungry. Great as a snack or meal, midday or middle of the night. The distinctive red stands dot the city, and this one had tacked a picture of Bill Clinton stopping by on the wall inside.

Mountains across the bay.

This also happened.

Permanent souvenirs! Don't tell my mom, if you see her before I do.

Then we picked up a rental car for a planned drive the next day. Since we had it, we figured we'd drive out again to try to find the Northern Lights. Here Roy does his best Ryan Gosling impression.

You already know how the hunt turned out. Still, there's something to be said for the search.