August 20, 2014

Egilsstaðir Riding Tour

If I had to name my favourite tour, the one I could do over and over without getting tired of it, it would be the Egilsstadir ride in the east. It’s basically 6 days of roaming the highlands, the same highlands wild reindeer and foxes live, which is the largest uninhabited area in all of Europe. There are almost no fences to open, or roads to cross, only a handful of interactions with civilization as we dip in and out of the valleys between the heaths to feed the horses and charge the riders batteries – literally, and figuratively. Some of the huts area really primitive, no running water or electricity, just a big shelter to squeeze 20 riders and all their luggage into for a cozy night of eating, drinking, singing and sleeping.

riding past snow towards Snaefell

There were only 2 tours this summer, but I was happy to take both, one with Ishestar and one with my old friends Denni and Arna. I’ve taken this tour more than 10 times now, and its the one area of Iceland I’ve started to know like the back of my hand. Every fall I go to the same area, Fljotsdalsheidi, and ride with 10 or 12 other farmers to look for sheep. There are a couple thousand sheep that roam this area freely each summer, and they come home each fall with their lambs all fat and fluffy. There are hundred-year-old horse and sheep trails all over the place, but its still tricky to find your way when thick fog rolls in and your visibility gets reduced to about 2 or 3 meters. It happened to us on the first tour of the season, when we climbed up a few hundred meters into the clouds and had to keep avoiding snowbanks that still hadn’t melted in July.

the valley of rainbows and waterfalls

Even though the highlands can be like one big marsh, waterlogged from the late snow-melt, the rivers run cold and clean enough to fill our waterbottles on the way. There’s no need for running water either if you’re gutsy enough to dip into the icy rivers for an all-natural bath – me and a crazy Norwegian managed to do it on night 3, sitting beside Saudarkofi mountain hut under Icelands largest mountain Snaefell. We could have waited til night 4, when we reach Laugafell and the natural hot-water baths there, but then we wouldn’t have appreciated the hottubs as much after trying the other extreme.

Egilsstadir usually has repeat guests, the same riders who come back twice, sometimes thrice or more, and ride the same trail. Its different every year, depending on the weather and the difference between the highlands in July or August, and even the way can change a bit to avoid the really wet lands or washed out trails. Two of the mountain huts have also changed over the past few years, upgraded to include electricity and water. Ill be back next year to ride it again and see what else is new, and those who want to do the same can make a booking with Ishestar or Denni and Arna.

June 30, 2014

Snaefellsnes Beach Ride

Ishestar offers a riding tour on Snaefellsnes peninsula, where over 100km of the 4 or 6 day ride is on the beach at low tide. Its usually around 20 riders with over 100 horses, and the sight of a free-running herd over the never-ending sand is one you’d never forget.

Snaefellsnes beach ride

The ride starts at Stóri-Kálfalækur farm, with the Icelandic cowboy Siggi and his staff. There are dogs running around and children playing everywhere you look, and it´s hard to keep track of who is who is Siggi´s family or friend circle. But noone ever forgets his wife Ólöf, who manages to cook up the most delicious food and stuff us to the brim with every home-cooked meal.

happy riders

We ride into the mountains and valleys on the first couple of days, where its normal to be eaten alive by midgle flies, but a fly-net can solve most of your problems, except when you want to eat and youre not sure if you should lift the net over your mouth to take a bite (which may include a midge or two) or just shove the sandwich inside the net too.

low tide

It rained alot on our week-long ride, but we didn´t mind since we got wet anyway with the splash of seawater from the horse hooves running around us. There were a few deep rivers we had to cross, and we didn´t bother to lift our feet since our boots were filled with water already.

nearly swimming

The rain was also a relief from the flies, and dry weather would have caused alot of dust, so the grey skies and calm winds really made the trip perfect for me. I made alot of new friends, both horses and people, and sometimes had to pinch myself to remember this wasn´t a dream… just my dream job.

June 2, 2014

Roadtrip Westfjords

Rauðasandur

Day 1: Steve, Liv and I packed up my rusting Kia jeep and left Reykjavik around 10:30. The car was full with sleeping bags, tents, food, rain clothes and eventually some firewood, but we tried to save room for a hitch-hiker. We had a few other to-do’s on our list, like hottubbing every day, summiting a mountain, making a campfire and one of us had to kiss a tourist. We had a slow start, stopping in Akranes and Borgarnes for our last doses of civilization, and then hiked to the top of a volcano in Bifröst.

home

We took route 60 north, stopping in Reykjadalur for our first hottub stop, Grafarlaug. There was a dirt road all the way to it, but we didn´t see it and hiked in past the sheep round-up pen. It has 3 different pools, around 20°, 30°, and 40°C, all filled with slimey green algae that must do wonderful things for your skin. We continued north, past Búðardalur, to Laugar, where we bathed in another hottub named Guðrúnarlaug, which wasn´t quite as comfortable at only 35 or 36°. We met two other tourists there, one which we tried to take with us, but after failing, we set up camp at the tip of Fellströnd and named it Camp Charlie.

Pollurinn

Day 2: We ate breakfast near Dagverðarnes (which means the peninsula of breakfast, appropriately), and drove along Skarðsströnd to finally reach the Westfjörds, All of the islands and islets in Breiðafjörður grew and shrank with the changing tides, and our next stop was at Hellulaug, a 38°C hottub right on the beach. We went sea-swimming and shared the hottub with some Swedish tourists, and then bathed at Krosslaug, another hottub right on the sea with a 35°C pool beside it.

Krosslaug

We then drove to the most westernmost part of the westfjords (which is also the westernmost part of Iceland… and Europe), and watched the penguins dance around at Látrabjarg. We set up our Camp Midnight somewhere off route 612, and managed to make another fire from scrap wood we stile from Ásgarður.

our breakfast beach

Day 3: We made breakfast on the beach below our camp, before meeting the landowner we didn´t know existed who asked us nicely not to poop anywhere on his land. We daytripped to Rauðasandur, a beach with such blue waters you´d believe you were in the Caribbean. We swam next at Patreksförður´s public pool and had our first real shower in days, and then bathed at the natural hottubs ‘Pollurinn’ in Tálknafjörður. Without revealing any incriminating details, we then set up Camp Threesome in the town´s campsite.

Day 4: We decided to change things up a bit and dip into a glacier river. Underneath the farm Foss (which means waterfall), we ran into the waterfall spray and luckily had the sun to airdry ourselves. Then we spent the entire day having a pool party at Reykjafjarðarlaug, a huge warm pool with a hotter, muddy hottub in the grass above. It was like a scene from Coachella, a bunch of foreign hipsters, a boom box and a full bar, but set in the dramatic westjords, which happened to be sunny and warm for the first time on our roadtrip.

Reykjarfjarðarlaug pool party

Day 5: We woke up at the edge of the westfjords, and took down our Camp Forest which was sheltered well from the wind, but not the heavy raindrops that started to leak through our $20 tent. We warmed up at Djúpidalslaug with the family of the owners, then got invited into their barn to check out some sheep, the new-born late comers of the season. One pair was only a few hours old, still covered in yukky stuff, and the mothers were clearly getting stir crazy from still being locked up inside.

We tried to bathe at the end of the road in Reykjanes, but both pools were closed at Reykjhólar and Laugaland has been abandoned and turned cold. Liv had a driving lesson on the way back, as well as some 5 year old kid we passed driving a tractor, and then we finished our roadtrip with a little educational stop at the Settlement exhibit in Borgarnes, Landnámssetur Íslands.

We never got our hitch hiker, but we managed to complete all our other to-do’s. Me, Liv and Steve are leaving for another roadtrip along the south coast next week, s perhaps we’ll find one then.

Patreksfjörður´s airport

May 31, 2014 Image

Photo Highlight: Roadtrip Westfjords

fjords, valleys, snow and sea were all we had to look for

March 1, 2014

Masters Degrees and Birthdays to feed my homesickness

now I’m a master in everything icelandic

I didn’t attend my first master’s graduating ceremony, and I wasn’t going to attend the second, but then three of my closest friends and partners in anti-studying crimes from the program were invited to (slash threatened to attend) the occasion; Steve, Liv and Marie. I felt I had to be present too once they all showed up in Iceland and I was still MIA. My flight out of Sierra Leone was delayed nearly a day, but I made it in time for the ceremony and a lot of celebrations.

The first celebration was Steve’s birthday, then my graduation. I felt like a spectacle since I was the only person to walk the stage from the program, and it was the only program announced in English, “Masters in Medieval Icelandic Studies.” It should have been called a Masters in Norse Mythology, or Icelandic Horse History, but now everyone thinks I’m one of those medieval enthusiasts who should wear a Thor’s hammer necklace or studded, black pleather clothing. Unfortunately, I’m not pale enough for gothic fashion, and I don’t know nearly enough about Vikings or the middle ages, so I just claim it as a degree in being more Icelandic than before.

We took a road trip to celebrate my new truck, a Kia sportage I bought 2 days before leaving for Africa for 4 months. But the Kia was a party pooper and ran out of gas in the middle of the highlands between Thingvellir and Laugarvatn…

me and my mustache friends

The next celebration was my roommate Harald’s birthday, followed 2 days later by my birthday. There weren’t enough champagne bottles for all the events, but we popped at least 4 over the week, and polished off some 12L of miscellaneous other alcohol. We threw a mustache and bowtie party, where I received the kind of amazing gifts little girls wish for on shooting stars. My father treated me like a princess, a special guest from France came to visit, and my Icelandic chef friends spoiled me rotten for the Reykjavik Food and Fun festival.

Then, I was gone as quickly as I had arrived, with another flurry of happy home memories and a bunch of friends to miss even more. But I was on my way to other friends that Im always missing, so once more I tore myself away from the comfort zone of safe at home, with a tingle of travel bug itching again at my toes.

August 31, 2013

Reindeer Hunting in Lón

reindeer

After a summer of catching no fish and forgetting how to use my own two feet (I somehow feel I´ve become welded on my horse and haven´t had to walk myself anywhere since June), a reindeer hunting trip sounded like a perfect idea. In Iceland, there is a short reindeer hunting season at the end every summer, split into nine regions around East Iceland, where permits for around 1000 deers are given out to hungry hunters. Four of my friends had a permit this year, so we made a group of 9 to hike around svæði 7 and look for some unsuspecting herds.

how to cross a river in a car

The first day went terribly – we planned to wake up at 4, but slept in til 8, because of low-lying fog and thick rain clouds. After sitting around with our 5th cup of coffee by noon time, we decided to try and start hiking into the valley so that by the time we were up in reindeer country, the clouds would be gone. That also didn´t turn out so well, since the rivers were swollen to large from all the rain fall and we couldn´t drive in as far as we wanted. Intsead we had to walk, and cross quite a few more smaller rivers with soaked feet, some 12 km and up 800m, only to face worse weather, with steady rain and wind so strong it was blowing me over.

how to cross a river on a man

We found no reindeer that day, just a tuft of hair, some old poo, and footprints that could have just been from the guy walking ahead of you. So, the next day the hunters set out again, this time at 8 am, and by 3 pm, still not a single reindeer in sight, but the same rain and freezing cold instead. It looked hopeless by that point, with only a few hours left before nightfall to shoot 4 deer. But then, a herd was finally found, and two hunters claimed their lives then. The last two weren´t shot til nearly 8 pm, with sunset already on the horizon, and the next few hours involved alot of tired, sweaty, men, taking turns carrying half a bloody deer back down to their jeeps. They finally managed, only to find a flat tire on one car, and after a few more delays trying to tetris the deer on laps and under carseats, we finally had a celebration dinner at 2 am.

Now the meat is hanging somewhere to be processed, and in the next few months, reaping the benefits of reindeer steak will never get tiring. I most look forward to the reindeer skin I get to cuddle with this winter, to keep me from getting cold on the long, dark, winter nights.

August 20, 2013

Photo Highlight: Tungnafellsjökull

Under Tungnafellsjökull glacier, with a 360° view of Iceland from the middle of Sprengisandur

August 11, 2013

The Most Remote Places in Iceland

Þórisvatn in Sprengisandur

After traveling the East fjords, the north-east started calling, as I got very curious to see how much more remote and lonely the valleys and seashores must get. Starting in Vopnafjörður, I drove around Melrakkslétta, where they say you are (literally) only a stone´s throw away from the Arctic Circle. Its also the border where East Iceland meets North Iceland, one of the least densely populated areas of Iceland, and even at 5m above sea level, the scarce vegetation looks like the highlands up at 600m. I can´t really say much what the vegetation was like at 600m because the only high mountain pass I drove over on the way to Vopnafjörður was covered in such a dense, grey cloud that you couldn´t even see the yellow sticks marking the road, or have any perception of going up or down. We knew we were on our way down the mountain when we had to start using the brakes in the car, but nothing we could see or decipher with our eyes would have given us a sense of direction.

a half a boat in Melrakkslétta

Bakkagerði and Þórshöfn were not such impressive towns, maybe because of the bad weather, or maybe because I didn´t meet a single other person in either town. Raufarhöfn was the perfect place to call home for the night, after we found a place called Sunset Guesthouse, which is actually just the private home of Magnea (the picture perfect Icelandic grandmother figure!). Langanes peninsula, which sticks out from Þórshöfn, was surprisingly one of the most memorable places I´ve ever visited in Iceland. Its basically empty, open space, with amazing bird watching opportunities and a few inhabited farms which clearly appreciate being remote and untouched. Most of the roads lead to dead ends and empty houses, and only a horse would have been sufficient to finish exploring the lonely corners of Langanes.

Skinnalón

I discovered the most beautiful setting for a summerhouse at a sea-side farm called Krossavík. Its gates are usually locked but we happened to be at the end of the windy dirt road at the same time as the farmer was haying the land, so he let us in to explore. We kind of sorta broke into the farm at Skinnalón, since the little Skoda car we were driving actually fit under the chain blocking the road. There were more deserted farms than working farms, and almost no paved roads, during my roadtrip to Melrakkaslétta, but on the way out from Kopasker, we arrived back to the reality of traffic and tourists. We decided to take the bad road south past Dettifoss, and indulged in the Blue Lagoon´s little sister, the Mývatn Nature Baths.

driving between Hofsjokull and Tungnaellsjokull in Sprengisandur

A few weeks later, there was one more important place to visit, to satisfy my curiosity of the remote and middle of nowhere: Sprengisandur. Its the never-ending, black desert highland pass between the middle of Iceland, bordered only by huge lakes and Europe´s biggest glacier. The landscape is so sandy and black it makes your mouth feel dry just by looking at it, and we were unlucky enough to get a flat tire in the middle of it, at nightfall, without a lake or river in sight.

Nýidalur

The moutain safety guys saved us the next morning, and we carried on to Nýidalur – the only green valley in Sprengisandur. We went hottubbing in the geothermal pool at Laugafell, and went fishing for nothing but seaweed at Svartá and Kvíslavatn. The only other human interaction we had was with the same two mountain safety guides at the refuge hut, and we just saw a couple of cars pass us when we were stranded roadside, but Sprengisandur gave me a new-found respect for the large, lonely, and sometimes dangerous vastness of Iceland´s highlands. I can only imagine what life was like for Icelander´s before road travel and cars – then men rode horses across Sprengisandur, a week or two long, with barely a bite of grass to eat! I highly recommend any traveler visiting Iceland to get off the ring road and explore the empty middle and lonely corners of Iceland´s beautiful landscape one day.

See more pictures from North East Iceland here.

August 4, 2013

Photo Highlights: 66° North

a deserted farm in Langanes

On my first days off in 6 weeks, I decided to take a road trip to Northeastern Iceland. After crossing 66° north latitude, I started to notice the temperature drop, a lot of deserted farms, old churches, and beautiful, uninhabited coastlines.

the old church at Sauðanes Parish

The coastline at Krossavík

August 1, 2013

The East Fjords of Iceland

driving the winding roads into each valley

On one of my only weekends off from riding, I wanted to take advantage of living so close to the eastern fjords by taking a 2-day roadtrip around them all. They´re some of the highest, most snow-covered mountains in Iceland, and zigzag in and out along the coast, but roads rarely make it all the way around the fjord peninsulas to connect each valley. Thus, you end up with a bunch of 1-way-in-and-same-way-out cities, sometimes totally isolated from the rest of Iceland because of snow, with some mighty scary dirt roads leading you from the valley´s harbours into the moutain passes between them. One of these towns is Seyðisfjörður, which doesn´t even have a population of 1000, but its the port connecting Iceland and Europe for ferry goers, so its a pretty important place to stay connected to. Its one of the most picturesque towns in East Iceland, since the entire drive down into the luscious green valley has a river and its many waterfalls dancing along roadside. Its also a culturally active center, taking part in the annual Eastern Iceland Jazz festival, and hosting the week-long arts camp youth festival LungA. I visited the famous blue church and was lucky enough to hear some young musicians practicing a piano-accompanied solo, and her voice resounded like an angel in the tiny wooden church.

Seyðisfjörður

Mjófjörður was the most remote valley we drove into. Its hardly even counted as a town, but a small village of only 35 inhabitants. The steep, narrow, winding dirt road down the valley is only open in the summer, and in winter, its only possible to leave or visit Mjóifjörður by boat from Neskapustaður. The boat doesnt run when the road is open, so we had to drive back out of the valley, over the mountains and through Reydarfjordur and Eskifjordur to get to Neskaupstaður (a 94km drive instead of a 10km sail). The weekend we were exploring these valleys was the height of summer perfection as far as weather is concerned, and the temperature reached 27.5°C in Mjófjörður – the hottest I´ve ever seen in Iceland. Children were swimming in the sea and there wasn´t much more to do than just lay in the grass, suntanning, to enjoy the good weather.

Kirkjubær Church Hostel

Reyðarfjörður was a more industrial town, not as beautiful as neighbouring Eskifjörður, but the Icelandic Wartime Museum (Íslenska Stríðsárasafnið) was worth visiting. Stöðvarfjörður, a little village of 190 residents, boasts the famous stone collection of Petra, a woman who collected stones all her life and has them on display all over her rock garden. There´s also a tiny little church on the hill that has apparently been deconsecrated since its now operating as a guesthouse; it only costs 5000ISK per night to sleep at God´s old home. Fáskrúðsfjörður was also a quaint little fishing town, the former residence of many French fishermen up until WWI. We went to the old French Fishermens house after closing, and though it was too late to visit the museum officially, someone had forgotten to close or lock the doors, so we politely peeked in and then shut the door properly.

Petra´s Stone Collection

Everywhere we went was sunny and warm, but in the evenings, a thick fog always fell over the fjords and hung low over the sea bays. We tented seaside by a small flowing river, so we had fresh water and also a beach to go swimming in the next day. We ran into one mink on the shore, and otherwise saw no further than a few meters in the dense fog. The cool nights were always welcomed, and the only town we got stuck in fog during the day was at Breiðdalsvík, which was also perfect since that´s where we decided to soak in the hottub and the misty clouds around us just made it all the more cosy. After a wonderful, summery roadtrip around the east fjords, Im starting to think I´ll have to go back and visit in the winter, just to see the other weather extremes, and of course, to be able to take the boat from Neskaupstaður to Mjóifjörður.