So it begins

Golden Circle

Published Date : June 23, 2013

Today I did the most popular tourist route in Iceland.  Thanks to Icelandair’s generous free-layover deals for flights between North America and Europe, many visitors to the country only see the Golden Circle.  When you only have 2-3 three days in the country, it’s the best route to give you a taste of Iceland.

Þingvellir was the site of Iceland’s parliament for almost 800 years.  It is also a rift valley along the mid-Atlantic Ridge.  It is here where you can see plate tectonics in action as the North American and Eurasian continental plates are slowly moving away from each other.  This is also where I came on my first day in Iceland.  Silfra is a part of this massive rift valley.

The two other key locations on the Golden Circle route are Gullfoss, which translates as “Golden Falls” and Geysir, a geyser that has been erupting for almost 10,000 years.

On my way to Gullfoss, I stopped briefly at Kerið, a 3000 year old volcanic crater.  I had left Reykjavik early this morning to beat the tourist buses, so I had the crater entirely to myself.  At 55m deep and 270m across, it didn’t take me long to walk around the rim to the highest point.  From there I could easily see all the other craters pockmarking the area.    There were 3 or 4 of them almost on top of each other.  Down below, I noticed another trail circling the inside of Kerið just above the shallow lake in its centre.  I had to smile when I saw that someone had even installed a park bench at the water’s edge.  What better place to sit than inside a volcanic crater?

I arrived at Gullfoss just before the tourist hordes descended.  This is the first time on the trip that I’ve had to deal with crowds.  This is also the first time that I’ve seen any real structure or idiot-proofing in Iceland.   There were actually fences and barricades and areas that were marked as off-limits.  This was in stark contrast to places like Dettifoss where you could walk right up to the lip of the falls and the only thing keeping you safe was your own common sense.

The terraced falls were spectacular, and worth facing the crowds for, although I could have done without all the helicopters and scenic flights passing overhead every 5 minutes.

Back down the road, Geysir was in full swing by the time I arrived.  The tour buses were out in force and the mega souvenir shops were open for business.   Geysir is located in the Haukadalur valley, a region of high geothermal activity.  There are many steam vents, pools of boiling water and mud in the area, but everyone comes to see the geysers, Stokkur and Great Geysir.  Stokkur is the smaller and probably the better known of the two.  With extraordinary regularity, boiling water erupts from the ground and shoots 40-50m into the air.  Great Geysir is about 50m away from Stokkur and is far less predictable.  It may erupt several times a day or it may stop altogether for several years.   Its eruptions are supposed to be far larger and more dramatic than those of Stokkur.  Alas, Great Geysir didn’t make a peep while I was there.

Stokkur, on the other hand, put on its usual regular show.  With hordes of tourists standing at the edge of the blowhole, I decided to climb a nearby peak for a better vantage.  A 10-minute walk took me well away from the crowds and gave me a wonderful view of the entire area.

After stopping for lunch in one of the cafeterias at Geysir, I made the journey back to Reykjavik.  I cleaned up my rental car and filled the gas tank in preparation for returning it.  The rest of the afternoon I just relaxed at the hostel.  I had considered just chilling for the rest of the day, but instead made a last minute decision to take a whale watching trip.

Back in the car, I made the short drive to the harbour, only to discover I was at the wrong harbour.  Continuing along the waterfront, I incredibly found a parking spot right in front of the whale watching boat.  I made it on board with minutes to spare before departure.

Reykjavik’s Old Harbour is an interesting mix of old and new.  There are modern art galleries on cobble-stoned streets, wooden sailboats beside state-of-the-art coast guard ships.  It’s also a hub of tourist activities with plenty of whale watching kiosks, bike rental places and tour companies.

I wasn’t expecting much from the trip, since the north of the country, around Husavik, is really the best place to go for whale watching.  More than anything I was just looking forward to a pleasant evening on the water.  Not far out of port we stopped at a small island where puffins were nesting.  While everyone else was looking for birds, I lucked out and caught sight of a lone porpoise cruising in our wake.

We continued further out to sea and came across a few small minke whales and a school of white-beaked dolphins.  Minke’s are shy whales, with good reason.  They are actively hunted in these waters, mostly for export to Japan.  Interestingly, whale meat is not a traditional part of the Icelandic diet.  It wasn’t until the food shortages during World War 2 that the animals became part of the food chain.  Nowadays, the latest surveys have shown that less than 5% of Icelanders eat whale meat regularly.   The vast majority of the whale meat in Iceland is consumed by tourists.

While there were no major cetacean sightings on the trip, I enjoyed being out on the water.  Even though it was freezing cold, it was a nice way to spend the evening.  It had me thinking about taking up sailing again.  I had seriously considered taking sailing lessons a couple of years ago, but my plans had fallen by the wayside when I moved away from Vancouver.  Something for me to consider for my future plans…

No Pharoahs on the Faroe Islands

Published Date : June 24, 2013

Travel day.  After breakfast this morning, I drove to Reykjavik Domestic Airport.   I cleared out the car and said goodbye to my trusty steed.  In the last 2 weeks, we’ve travelled 3,365 km around Iceland, and I’ve grown rather fond of Ravioli (yeah, I know – not exactly an original name for a RAV4, but it’s what I called him :P) in our time together.

I dropped the keys at the rental desk and made my way to the check-in desk.  Reykjavik Domestic is a tiny airport with only two check-in counters, one security kiosk and one gate.  We boarded the small plane from the runway and were soon in the air.

The flight was only about two-thirds full, so I had a row of seats to myself.  To my great surprise, Atlantic Airways actually provided a free meal and drinks on the 1.5 hour flight.  It was only a tuna wrap and a bit of chocolate, but that’s way more than most airlines offer these days!  Before long we were dropping out of the clouds. Landing at Vágar Airport was slightly disconcerting.  There’s nothing but the frigid waters of the North Atlantic in sight until the final moments.  Then, suddenly, the rugged grass covered crags of the Faroe Islands appear just minutes before you touch down.

I’m not positive, but I think that Vágar may be the smallest airport I’ve ever been through.  Although Reykjavik and Ljubljana are certainly high on the list.  From the tarmac, we entered directly into the baggage claim area.  There was a passport control booth at the door, but nobody was manning it.  The Faroes aren’t exactly a mecca for international tourism.

My bag was the first one to arrive.  Hoisting it onto my back, I went in search of the car rental place.  It took me about a minute to walk the length of the terminal.  Seeing no rental place, I retraced my steps back to the tiny information booth and saw a postcard-sized printout next to the window confirming that they also took care of the rentals.  Excellent.

Stepping out into the brisk evening air, it was noticeably cooler here than it had been in Iceland, despite being much further south.  Located halfway between Iceland and Norway, the Faroes nearest neighbour is the Shetland Islands of Northern Scotland.   The Faroe Islands are a self-governing country within the Kingdom of Denmark.  The currency is the Faroese kroná which is pegged to the Danish krone.  There is a distinct Faroese language that evolved from Old Norse, but it is similar enough to Danish that it can be easily understood by someone who speaks any of the Scandinavian languages.

I made my way across the airport parking lot and quickly found my car, a 5-speed Opel Meriva.  Tossing my gear in the back, I familiarized myself with the car and had a look at the map to plan my route.  I had no maps in my GPS for the Faroes, but I didn’t really need them.  The islands are so small that it’s hard to get lost.

Ready to leave, I looked for the parking brake and found only a push button in the middle of the dashboard.  The car was parked on a hill so I gently pressed on the gas as I hit the push button.  Nothing happened.  A flashing light caught my eye and I cursed whoever thought that intelligent automobiles were a good idea.  The car had decided that the incline wasn’t steep enough to call for a hill start, so it wasn’t going to let me release the parking brake unless my foot was on the brake pedal.

Hoping the unknown clutch had a wide engagement point, I did what it wanted.  Nosing ever closer to the car parked in front of me, the gears finally engaged with millimeters to spare.  Taking out another rental car before even leaving the parking lot would really not have been a good way to start my time on the Faroes!

I left the airport behind and passed through the tunnel connecting the islands of Vágar and Streymoy.  Streymoy is the largest island in the chain and home of the capital, Tórshavn.  My destination though was the town of Gjógv on the next island over, Eysturoy.  It took about an hour to make the drive along narrow winding roads that climbed steep hills and passed through deep valleys.  Dodging the ever present sheep added to the fun.

My first impression is that there are waterfalls everywhere in this country.  Not large, impressive cascades, just sheets of water pouring down the steep cliffs.  At last I reached Gjógv, a tiny fishing village that’s home to about 200 people.

The guesthouse is also the only restaurant, bar and shop in town.  My accommodation for the next few days is in a traditional Viking style alcove – a tiny vestibule off a main hall with room for only a bed.    While small, it was infinitely more comfortable than a bunk bed in a hostel dorm!