Finding the Sun in Djupivogur Iceland

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Temperatures were projected to be falling as we head north to Iceland. And the weather could best be described as “iffy” for our arrival on the northeastern coast of Iceland. As we cruised into the fjord that formed the harbor at Djupivogur we reached our tender position. Don’t struggle too much with the name, pronounce the “J” as a “Y” and just let it roll off your tongue. We grabbed our typical quick-breakfast in the Lido, got our stuff together, and headed to the Showroom. We got our Pink-10 stickers for the Rural East Iceland Tour and waited for our time to board the tenders.

It was a ten-minute tender ride to the shore. First the tender headed to the channel marker and then followed the channel straight to the pier. Upon entering the channel, our speed noticeably reduced. I was in my short sleeve polo shirt and Sharon was just wearing a blouse. Everybody was concerned for our wellbeing and Sharon assured others that we had our layers in the bag. I had a light sweater and my jacket, and she had her windbreaker and a pullover. The temperature was almost 60-degrees Fahrenheit. In the tender, I felt a little bit of a chill on my back from the breeze coming into the tender and Sharon a tinge on her elbow; but, once we got ashore everything felt quite comfortable. Everybody else looked like they were dressed for an excursion in Antarctica. People had donned wool caps and were wearing Arctic mittens and ski parkas.

The previous evening Barry From Boston had done an interesting bit giving us an idea of what to expect when arriving in Djupivogur. He was letting us down easy from the rosy and exciting descriptions that the Excursion Guide Claudia had offered for our journey shore today. Barry warned us, “When you walk up the pier, past the marina where there may be five or six boats and get to the end there will be a building. It will be a combination souvenir store visitor center. It’s not a very big building. And there are some other buildings. Then you can turn around to get a picture of the statue that is supposed to be a whale. The other main building you’ll see people going in and out of is the “hotel” and “café”. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but Djupivogur is not the “Paris of the North”.

We found our bus and for once we had fairly decent seats. As we’re settling in our seats, Sharon whispers to me, “Stay away from them.” She’s nodding her head to the couple sitting opposite me across the aisle. I give her my best “What gives?” look. Her eyes are shooting arrows for me to look again, “The box, the box… they have a box of Kleenex out.” Actually, it’s the box of tissue from their cabin. And the sniffles never stop. Our guide spoke in a clear and understandable English at a measured pace that led me to believe that he was translating as he went. He observed the fog hanging above us was typical, and in these parts of Iceland quite dense. Here, when the fog moves in, it can be quite literally like pea soup. He said, as it hangs above us right now it allows us some visibility. He said, “All I can promise you, it will get better… or, it will get worse.” Somebody suggested, “It might stay the same!” We were to find out; however, he was right. The journey starts out along the narrow coastal plain of volcanic rocks and boulders that come down from a high. Tall granite cliffs reach towards the sky on our right side revealing columns of rock and the many layers of strata that stretches for miles. From the shear cliffs above a stony escarpment inclines towards the road. Large boulders have been arranged to provide a sort of catch basin for debris tumbling from above, but our guide confesses during really bad weather this coastal road is often closed, and he imagines someday it will just vanish altogether.

After driving over an hour we came to our first rest stop. It was a stand-alone building with a couple of gas pumps out front. Inside it appeared to be a bakery/café counter. In the room to the right people were already queuing for the WC, and that room had several small tables for this combination café/restaurant/gas station. I was surprised that I was the first to spot the 3 chocolate cookies on a plate on top of the glass counter. She smiles and definitely wants one; but, heads for the WC line. I get two cookies, and wait for Sharon. After a while I eat my cookie, and wait some more for Sharon. Then I go outside, take some pictures, and wait some more for Sharon. She does eventually show up. The cookies are nice and big, even bigger than the ones in the Exploration Café. “It was disgusting,” she said. “He (meaning the guy sitting by the window opposite us) took a wad of tissues out of his pockets that must have been the size of a basketball and through them away. Stay away from them,” she cautioned me again. I’m wondering, how exactly am I supposed to do that. I’m practically touching elbows with his wife in the narrow confines of the bus.

Back on the bus we abandon the nice highway and head over a rough gravel road towards the mountain and an alpine glacier. The lady across from me was offering everybody around us a cough-drop. I suppose she thought maybe others hadn’t noticed that they were the ones that were sniffling Another bus has reached the drop-off point before us. It is then a short walk up steep and uneven footing to the zenith of a glacial berm and then full viewing of this alpine glacier is possible. One lady using arm brace crutches similar to those Erin once walked all over Quebec City with made it to the top but was concerned about getting down again. She did though. We’re standing in the midst of a U-shaped valley that is the result of this glacial retreat. Back in the 1940’s the glacier’s boundary was atop this berm, and the wall of ice was 3 meters high at that face. Farther back the glacier depth is over 1 Kilometer. The fishing industry once carved large ice blocks from the glacier face to ship their product to market. The ice field itself was quite jagged, and unlike glaciers we’d seen in Alaska, perhaps because our vantage we looked down upon it lying in a valley that had been carved out eons ago. Ground rock and debris had been raised to the surface in places, and no doubt this was causing it to melt more quickly in these parts.

We’d been given forty minutes to view the glacier, and the view from the berm was enough. Some people ventured down to get a closer look, and some were even making a workout by trying to reach the face of the glacier. This involved a long and precarious walk down, and an even longer exhausting walk back up. We were back on the bus, along with everyone else in time to head on to our next scheduled stop; but, the two in front of us from Cancun had not yet returned. Worse, they were no where in sight. Somebody said what we’ve all heard too many times, “There’s always two in every group.” You can finish the sentence any way you choose. “…That think they’re on a private tour.” “…Who don’t care if others wait for them.” “…Who are just so darn special, that the rules don’t apply to them.” Don’t get me started; and, please don’t get Sharon started on this topic! Twenty minutes later, they returned; and, we waited for them. Their lame excuse, “Oh, so sorry, did you have to wait for us (heh-heh). We just had to see the ice.” She was noticeably out of breath, so at least they’d made some attempt to hurry back. I’m guessing they went all the way down to touch the glacier as well.

Our next and final stop was to visit a horse farm featuring Icelandic Horses; and, we remembered not to call them ponies. At this point that the Sun had come out and it was a beautiful day. We walked across a small freshly mown strip of grass that bordered a small race track. Extending from one end of the track was a long straight stretch of track leading to the barn. In the distance we could see three horses coming our way. At first, their speed didn’t seem like they were managing more than a leisurely trot. But as they got closer we heard a unique pit-a-pat rhythm of their feet as they came upon us and sped by. The Icelandic Horse is renowned for its five natural gaits. While most other breeds have only three or four gaits, the Icelandic Horse can Walk, T lt (The-T), Trot, Pace, and Canter or Gallop. The Walk, Trot, and Canter are familiar for most horses. The-T is an excellent gait for trail riding; while, inthe Pace, the hooves on the same side touch the ground together. Often called the Flying Pace, this gait can equal the speed of a full gallop and is used in Iceland for racing. To Icelanders, riding at the Flying Pace is considered the crown of horsemanship. When they passed by the first time coming off the long warmup stretch they were in the Pace. After circling the track, they were doing The-T and it was impressive how the rider’s head and shoulders remained absolutely level. The horses were ridden by two experienced riders, and a boy who is learning to ride competitively. They circled the track two more times before coming over and allowing those to pet the horses that wanted to pet them. Sharon wasn’t among those that absolutely needed to touch those beasts but she enjoyed seeing them and getting some closer photos.

Afterwards, the bus took us to the nearby reception house where we received cocoa or coffee and freshly made baked goods from the horse owner’s wife. We’d met him out by the horses, telling us about what we’d be seeing. The crunch-bars were from the wife’s old family recipe and she’d just made them herself. Everything was quite tasty.

Most were back on the bus ready to head back to the Rotterdam. Somebody said out loud what I suspect that we all were thinking, “I swear, if they get onboard last and say… ‘Ooh I just had to pet the nice horsies…’” They didn’t get a chance to finish that thought; because, this time they made it back and somebody did get on after them… Our guide. I guess he wasn’t taking any chances this time. By the time we get back to port, the guy by the window has stuffed all of his used tissue into the space between the seat in front of him and the fold up table top. It sort of looked like soapy suds overflowing a bathtub. It makes you wonder how good of a job is done disinfecting the bus before the next tour. I’m suspecting not that good. And I have real concerns for the people around them on this tour.

We arrive back at the port, and meander back towards the pier. Sharon took a picture of the Icelandic flag for me, and as we approached the tender, we were the last two allowed to board. We timed that well. We were going to make it back in time for Trivia!

Up in the Crow’s Nest Sharon and I were sitting at “Our Table” when Duncan and Pam arrived. Pam invited an elderly man travelling alone to join us, explaining how they know him from having a cabin on their deck. I’m wondering, what happened to Jim and Rose Marie. Rose Marie does find us before the questioning begins. “The USA is number two in the total number of Winter Olympic Medals ever won. What country is number one.” Some thought perhaps Russia; but, I don’t think that they can bridge their record from the time they were part of the USSR. I think most teams correctly guessed “Norway”. Jim showed up and I think was wondering if it was okay to sit down with Linda being pretty strict about the “Six Person Rule”. “In 1955 what car was introduced in response to the Corvette?” We all looked at Duncan, and he had this smug “I got this look” on his face and Pam was saying “We got this” as Duncan wrote done “Thunderbird”. Sharon and I keep getting stuck when trying to come up with the next answer, not necessarily to this exact question; but, to many music questions centering around this time period. “In 1987, who was the first female introduced into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?” Who might you think. We came up with a name that is in the HOF; but, it just took her about ten years longer to get there: Janis Joplin. The answer: Aretha Franklin. Linda wanted to know “What are the colors of the Russia flag?” Well, that’s easy. Then she sweetened the pot. One point for each color, and one extra point if they’re in the right order from top to bottom. Well, that should be easy too! The colors are same as the US flag; and, in fact, the paper that we graded ordered them incorrectly as “Red, White, and Blue”. I knew that White was on top, and I was certain the next two were Red and Blue. Jim did question this saying “How sure are you?” And maybe I fudged my certainty a bit with 90%! (MISSING)Jim never said what he thought, and perhaps my certainty should have been fifty-fifty. We didn’t get the extra point. The bonus question was, “List the three types of swords used in Olympic fencing.” I wrote down “Épée” and everybody agreed. Duncan suggested “Rapier” and he wrote that down as well. There was some discussion about my suggestion “Sabre” but nobody had anything better. If somebody had suggested “Foil” I’m sure that “Sabre” would have been dropped; but, it was the “Rapier” that needed dropping. We got 17 out of 21 points and today we tied with two other teams for first place. That’s three in a row!

Sharon headed off to mass. Father Roman was in a great mood saying he had a wonderful day. He used part of that in his sermon. He was doing his walkabout as he calls it and saw some children playing on a slide so walked up that way and found a small day care center. He knocked on the door and explained to the teacher what he wanted to do and blew up a teddy bear balloon for her. She was all excited and made a phone call to another Day Care center who loaded up their kids in a van and drove over. The kids were all excited as Father Roman made balloon animals for them and he said it was a really needed spirit lifting experience for him.



We go to dinner after Sharon changes. I manage to convince her to order an appetizer for me (The Tomato Goat Cheese Tartlet). I tell her to go ahead and order her appetizer first (The Watermelon Gazpacho). I ask for the Shrimp and Crab Louis followed by the Mushroom and Wild Rice Soup. These come in the reverse order, which I’ve never seen happen before, so Sharon must wait and I start with the soup course which takes the longest for me to finish. Once she gets her appetizer, Sharon enjoys it. And for the first time on this cruise that I can remember, we get the same entrée. We both order the Southern Fried Chicken. I get one leg, one partial leg and one wing. Sharon gets one thigh, one breast and one what KFC used to call, the center breast. So, if you were to ask the question “Who got the meat?” I would say that, “Sharon got the meat.” She did however relinquish the thigh to me. I figure HAL must have gotten a really good deal on eggplant somewhere; because it seems that every meal has one or two eggplant choices; either that, or someone really high up on this ship loves eggplant. As for me, I’m really tired of seeing it on the menu day after day after day. Today, it cut my choices down so much, I would almost prefer to eat in the Lido! Sharon was hesitant to get the Whiskey Chocolate Torte. For her “Whiskey” is almost as bad a word as “Cheese” when it comes to her desserts. I convinced her that the “Whiskey” was probably only used in the decorational dollops of white sauce that they invariably adorn their desserts. She seemed to finish it all. I ordered the Cheese Plate again. I thought that one of the cheeses was made with Port wine but realized “my mistake” when I again wound up with blue cheese. That particular cheese was listed as “Roque Port Cheese” or what you or I know as Roquefort Cheese. The Maasdam Cheese was present looking exactly as Swiss cheese. And how the Provolone morphed into Brie or the Pepper Jack into Cheddar I wouldn’t want to hazard a guess.

Sharon went to see the Show featuring Shades of Buble. She later said that it was very good.

I went to play blackjack. Tonight, there was no high roller to be seen; but, her friend was playing with me. I’m now wondering if she might be her daughter. I’m getting fairly decent cards; but, again can’t seem to win more than three hands in a row. And I’m not getting any blackjacks. Suddenly a crowd shows up and it’s taking forever for them to get settled and to buy in and I realize that the pace of play for me is likely to degrade from “not good” to “abysmal”. I cash in, take my modest profit and call it a night.

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