Lava
Maybe being impressed by all the lava in Iceland is like being impressed by all the snow in Antarctica, but, well, I guess it's possible to be so impressed in both places. One way lava in Iceland seems a bit different to me from in the islands of Hawaii, for example, is that it doesn’t have thick plant growth or urban development covering much of it. You’re always aware of volcanic rock, at the waterfalls (here's our friend John),
and under any layer of green,
and at black sand beaches:
There's drama in the old eroded lava,
and in vast plateaus of new flow. This US Navy airplane was abandoned after crashing at Solheimasandur in 1973 (all survived), providing the perfect setting for an album cover.
Animals
Icelandic horses or ponies are special to this island, the only horses allowed here, and if an Icelandic horse leaves the island it is not allowed to come back. We stayed at one of the places where you can spend your vacation riding these horses into the country.
One thing that seemed a bit of a cultural leap to me is this horse hide for decor in the hotel lobby:
We saw sheep everywhere, little clumps, near the road or visible only as smudges in the highest or remotest reaches of a landscape.
Woolens are for sale everywhere, gorgeous handmade sweaters, scarves, gloves, and more--at boutique prices, a far cry from the shopping (raiding?) we norte americanos can do in Mexican markets.
And it's not the Galapagos. Even the sheep, out on their own most of the year, don't let you get close, and the wildlife keeps a wary eye and distance. Flocks of ducks well offshore paddled seaward even if we were up on a road above the beach, returning as we headed away. Maybe they've noted those geese on the clothesline in Djupavik, or maybe they've seen this menu (guillemot is a sea bird):
We did see lots of birds from a respectful distance, and I rather like this picture I snapped, though I usually have to point out the swans:
We were pleased to glimpse some puffins, mostly silhouettes flying between cliffs and a flock offshore, but by luck I intruded, overzooming, on this one:
Roads to ride
When we think about going back, it might well be to ride our bikes as much as for anything else. The paved roads are beautifully maintained, smooth, and lightly travelled, at least in the Westfjords. The dirt roads seem rideable, though we understand they can turn to rough tracks pretty quickly--like this main road taking a lot of rain:
The weather would be the diciest factor, with scarce warm shelter to fall back on in the remoter places. But these tempting roads promise breathtaking drops down sweeping turns into luminous valleys, and climbs that cling to rock faces over surf, lovely enough in a car but so powerfully moving on a bike.
We brought home Omar Smari Kristinsson's first volume of The Biking Book of Iceland. Even back in California the photos and descriptions make for good daydreaming: "This is not the Netherlands," he says. And, "One might have to wade more fords than mentioned in this book. Some rivers can become impassable or fatally dangerous." He warns, "Autumn is a difficult time for biking in the Westfjords. Those with less limited self-control will constantly fall prey to the temptation of feasting on the wild berries. In some places one does not even need to step off the bicycle to shovel berries into one's mouth."
See that little track along the coast? Let's go!
Takk for reading, l.
