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Published: October 12th 2016
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It was a regretful leavetaking of this wonderful family (it turns out they foster children as well) as we set out for Stykkisholmur, a harbour/holiday town on a western peninsula. Along the way was some more matchless scenery, including a climbable crater of a relatively recent extinct volcano with a view down onto another one. The weather continued grey and cloudy, but we were assured we were lucky it was not a lot worse, which was the forecast for Wednesday.
We made Stykkisholmur in relatively good time and stopped for a feed at a bakery on the outskirts of town, Helen engaging the baker in conversation about some horses we had passed, which turned out to be his. There was time for an afternoon walk around a harbour prettily filled with small islands before dinner at a small restaurant where Helen engaged the cook/proprietor in conversation about the horses, which turned out also to be hers, as she was the baker’s sister.
Our B&B that night was fine but unremarkable, except for a magnificent picture window with a view over the town, which I was lucky enough to catch at dawn the next day, up early because suffering a
bit with a throaty virus of sorts.
The B&B hostess warned us about the weather for the upcoming Wednesday, as had Oddny the previous day, imploring us to drive carefully as the wind was expected to get up. We airily assured both of them that the wind blows hard and straight off the Antarctic down our way, so we’re used to that kind of thing. We were entirely unprepared for the Icelandic equivalent. “That’s not a gale –
this is a gale.” Driving over the mountains was a steering-wheel-gripping experience, and I was glad to have picked the small-medium rental car option, with a bit of weight and a rounded profile, over the Yaris or equivalent. Later on, driving rain was added to the mix, and we sadly had to drop our off-route visit to a major geyser and another waterfall from our itinerary for the day, as our progress was slowed so much that we would have been late arriving – and frankly we didn’t fancy any more time on the road than was necessary.
We did get to Thingvellir, though, the earthquake-prone meeting-place of the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates, and also the historical meeting-place
of Icelandic lawmakers. A unique landscape, with a plain stretching off to the east and to the west from the meeting-line – but one plain a few metres higher than the other. We emerged from the car into the weather for just enough minutes to take it all in and walk a little way down the fissure, then it was back to the car.
At Arabaer horse farm our host was Louise, a charming Scottish woman married to an Icelander. The accommodation was essentially bunkhouse-style, with great company: Alex (Australian-Cook Islander) and wife Monika (Slovenian, twenty weeks pregnant), and Walter and Elise (French, travelling together “but we are not together like that”). We shared provisions and had a long and entertaining living-room chat, although Elise was quiet at first. Turned out she was a bit shy because she felt her English was inferior, so I engaged her in French for a little while, which seemed to reassure her that she was OK by comparison. The bed was under a sloping roof and just a tad claustrophobic if you were the one near the wall, but we slept well.
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