Impressions of Iceland
Crazy landscape. One minute bucolic farm land, the next, sharp jagged lava fields. Not to mention the afore described geothermal areas where the hills spout jets of steam. No trees. Very weird to feel like we are above tree line but be right by the sea. We are driving the West Fjords, which are shaped much like the cross section of a cauliflower (or a brain, if you want to go there), and the road hugs the coast, so it’s a wild up and down and all around the stunning fjords that are surrounded by mountains that look alpine-ish, but peak only 2000 feet about sea level. A little bit Alaska, a little bit Patagonia. Lots of wilderness, very little hiking infrastructure. End of the world vibe. Lots of isolation, harsh terrain, high drama, many dangers. Oh, and waterfalls! Big Waterfall game.
Our days have been filled with short hikes, one long hike that was steeper and more exposed and longer than Mirabel would have wanted (but which she conquered brilliantly), longer drives often on dirt roads, leisurely soaks in splendid seaside hot springs (once visited by a seal!), and astonishing meals. No one talks about the food in Iceland, aside from the fascinated horror of marinated shark. Let me tell you. The food here is amazing. From fish and chips to refined arrangements with astonishing sauces, herbs, and accompaniments, the fish is right out of the sea, and perfect every time. The butter is so good it defines an entire food group. Icelandic cows, turns out, were brought over by Norse settlers in the 9th century, and their blood line has remained pure ever since. Genetically isolated for over 1100 years. They only eat pure Icelandic grass, are never given hormones or antibiotics, and wow! Is this what dairy is supposed to taste like? And I thought Swiss cows were special!
Small towns appear in sheltered valleys, and generally consist of a church, a gas station, and a restaurant. The houses are painted in different colors, and the light accentuates the contrasts. Speaking of light, the sun sets around 11:00pm and rises at 2:30am, so it never really gets dark. Which makes for fabulously long days. Also, no wildlife. I keep looking for bunnies or chipmunks or small rodents, but there are none. The arctic fox, as the only mammal predating the Vikings has eluded us. The theory is one walked across the frozen sea to get here, and got stuck when the ice melted. By my math, there must have been two.
Icelanders are friendly enough when engaged in the tourist trade. Otherwise, remote and impossible to read. The classic look is flaxen hair and transparent eyes, ethereal in a certain way, funny in combination with a characteristically heavy tread, which I have to connect to the perpetual wind. The wind is a full character in the story. Hold on, or it will blow you over. It feels like an ancient place, filled with tales of trolls and faeries and the hidden people. Walking, we have several times come upon primitive stone statues of squat, broad faced humanoids. Trolls tarrying too late into the morning?
Tiny baby lambs dot the farm fields all in pairs, mostly white, but with a good smattering of black and brown. The horses are glamorous. Small in stature, they are perfectly proportioned, glossy, and have the most extravagant manes and forelocks. Positioned on a rise, nose facing into the wind so it ruffles their hair just so, they are full on movie star material. There was a Russian woman in one of the hot springs who reminded me of them. Blonde hair piled high on her head, chunky red sun glasses perfectly matching her a-symmetrical cherry-red bathing suit, I have rarely seen a woman so happy in her body, relucent with beauty and well being.
Mirabel is genius at finding the best things to do along our way — walks, waterfalls, craters, caves, museums, and fabulous restaurants. Every day is an opportunity to fit things together in a logical puzzle of time and distance, and each day has been more pleasing than the last. We wonder what it would be like in winter. It would be great to be able to see the stars and the Northern Lights. Certainly it would take tremendous toughness to live in this stark land any time of year, but there are numerous reasons to come back. We have only explored the West and North — the part of the Island with the least tourism. Next time, we’d go see the South and East. It’s been a perfect time, better than I could have hoped.. Tomorrow we fly back to Amsterdam, where we expect sunshine!
