For all the doubters

We received the photos today from our new friend Hauker showing that we did -- indeed -- do the Polar Bear.

We knew this opportunity could possibly never come again. So we couldn't say "no."

Hauker's a very talented photographer and a budding documentary filmmaker. Not to mention a mean accordion player. Here are a couple more from him:

 

All great trips must end, including this one

Alas, all great things must end, including our wonderful trip to Iceland.

Before we embarked on this adventure, many people questioned why we'd chosen this location for our vacation.

We hope the photos below provide a good glimpse into the specialness of this land.

But to help answer the question "why?" here are some of the highlights:

• The people. Simply some of the warmest, most caring, sincere and proud people we've ever met. If we encountered you on our trip, we appreciate your hospitality and kindness.
• The land. It's impossible to use just one word to describe it. It's wild, desolate, towering, serene and beautiful. If you forced us to use just one, it would be "wow."
• The water.  It's pure and clean and tastes like heaven. It surrounds the land as well as bursts forth from it and heats it. It lulled us to sleep at night and chilled us to the bone when we swam in in it.
• The experiences. Hiking, kayaking, sailing, hot-dog eating, ferrying, hot potting, swimming (brief as it was) and sightseeing around every new turn in the road.
• The sounds. The sounds of silence abounded. As did the magical sounds of birds, like the loons on a tiny lake on the Hornstrandir Peninsula.
• The tidiness. The entire land is clean and unlittered.
• The all-night sun. We never stopped being amazed by it.

We could live here. Well, at least during the spring and summer.

Can you tell we had a good time?

We finally do Reykjavik

After Djupavik, we made a beeline for Reykjavic because our flight home was early the next morning. We made our hotel reservation along the way, and were delighted that the city''s most famous landmark, the Hallgrimskirkja, was what we saw from our window. All night long.

This is before we elevatored to the top.

This is from our room a few minutes before midnight. Yes, it is still light out.

The norther we go, the desolater it gets

After bidding goodbye to our new friends in Isafjorder, we drove east along the serene fjords, up and over a mountain, hit water again, then drove north about 60 miles on a gravel road under skyscraper-high cliffs -- until there was no more road.

And there on what seemed to be the Edge of Nowhere, was what is reputed to be one of the most desolate hot pots in all of Iceland.

It's near the village of Krossnes on the Strandir Coast. We drove there under the midnight sun and basked in the tub and pool -- all alone -- for more than an hour. Our hostess at the Hotel Djupavik was worried about us when we didn't return by 11 p.m., but then was relieved to see the headlights of our returning car on the far shore of the fjord and went to bed.

Waterfalls never get old.

On the road to Krossnes.

See where the road ends just beyond the hot pot on the Edge of Nowhere?
Beyond it is miles and miles of wilderness.

 

The next morning, we were given a tour of the abandoned herring factory at Djupavik.

 Told you already: Waterfalls never get old.

During our tour of the factory, we were told we'd hear the story of the rusting old ship. 

But we never did.

A steady wind, bright sun ... life is good

So there we were, sailing back to Isafjordur on Friday, when the captain our 55-footer, Capt. Siggi, looked to the nearly cloudless sky and the steady wind filling his sails, and said simply and quietly, "Life is good."

Indeed it is.

We'd set out on Thursday into the Glacial Fjords with on-again-off-again wind and light rain. By the time we got to our isolated fjord, the sun was out and we were hiking with our new friends Megan, Katie, Hauker and Gulli. While sightings of the Arctic fox eluded us, it was hard to imagine a more pristine, secluded place to take an afternoon stroll.

When we got back to the boat, Capt. Siggi had our salmon and cod dinner waiting for us. And we brought a Sonoma Cutrer chardonnay and a Spanish tempranillo to complement the gourmet meal.

After dinner, while waiting for the midnight sun to appear between two peninsulas, we toasted Megan's and Hauker's birthdays, chatted, and sang along with Hauker at the accordion.

The clean air induces "Icelandic Euphoria." Symptoms include spontaneous headstands

and bouts of jumping for joy.

 

Same hike.

 That's our boat in the fjord.

 

Hauker serenades the group with Icelandic folk songs and Beatles tunes.

The midnight sun.

The next morning, we woke to breakfast. And you won't believe this, but we took a dip in the fjord. Yes, both of us. You may be thinking to yourself at this point, "Yeah, suuuuuuuuuure they did. Where's the photo?"

We're awaiting the photographic evidence from Hauker. Really.

And then we were off to Vigur Island, home to one family and swarms of Arctic terns, guillemots and puffins.

This is the approach to Vigur Island, home to Iceland's smallest post office.

 

Not a cloud in sight.

Believe it or not, they transport sheep in this boat from the island to the mainland.

  

At last. The elusive puffin!

Another case of Icelandic Euphoria, this time on the dock upon our return to dry land.

Our new friends at www.boreadventures.com. If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have gone kayaking, hiking and sailing in the Isafjordur and Hornstrandir areas.

35 miles from the Arctic Circle!

Took an incredible 10-mile hike on the uninhabited Hornstrandir Peninsula yesterday.

Nothing short of amazing: A boat ride past towering bird cliffs, fishing villages abandoned more than 50 years ago, Arctic tundra, the magical sound of loons on a placid lake, trekking across a snowfield on the way across a pass, the sight of majestic fjords as we descended from a cloud, and an e-ticket return boat ride.

The boat ride from Isafjordur to Hornstrandir. The return trip was a wild, 

wind-whipped ride with stomach-churning swells.

  

We had little trouble getting across the next two streams ... it was the last one that we had to take our boots off and wade ... we started feeling our toes again this morning.

Heading into the clouds and over the pass.

Getting high in Iceland.

The view on the other side of the pass.

Descending toward Heysteri.

 

A fitting end to the hike ... look closely to see the full rainbow.

Today, weather permitting, we'll be doing an overnighter on a sailboat that will combine island hiking, birding, kayaking, swimming and accordion playing. Yes, you read those last two correctly. Stay tuned.

Something you can count on in northwest Iceland: the unpredictable weather

We were scheduled for a two-day kayak trip beginning today, with tent camping on an isolated fjord.

But the wind kicked up pretty fierce, making it treacherous at times. Paddling against such a strong wind was just plain hard.

So we're back in our cozy bed at the Litla Guesthouse (http://www.guesthouselitla.is). Hal, our host, even gave us our original room, No. 7.

Despite the weather, it was another amazing day in paradise. We spent the day paddling with two other American couples and two guides. We saw some amazing bird life (but still no puffins) and a large number of mother seals with their pups.

Since seals can be hunted in Iceland, they were hyper vigilant and would slip into the water as our boats drew near, with the moms taking care to protect their newborns. It was an interesting contrast to our experience in the Galapagos Islands, where the protected seals don't care how close you get.

Because our camera was stashed in a dry bag most of the day, we don't have as many pictures to share as usual.

Before the kayak trip. That's Francesca and Clint from New York City 

and Christine and Alex from Seattle.

We may look goofy, but we were the warmest and driest people in Iceland today.

After being buffeted by the wind for much of the day, this hot pot at the Rekyjanes Hotel was a little piece of Heaven here on Earth.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, we're sailing to the uninhabited Hornstrandir Peninsula for an 8-hour hike. We are told we are nearly guaranteed to finally see puffins and that the wilderness is fabulous.

Why do they call it Iceland? They should call it Nice Land

What an incredible day. A new visual wonder around every turn.

We started with a morning tour of a smoked rainbow trout farm lead by our B&B hostess Kristin. She, her father and her four sisters own and run the factory. When she found out Brad smokes our fish at home, we had a good-natured contest. We think they both taste fantastic. Her B&B, the Bjarmaland Guesthouse, which deserves more credit than the Lonely Planet guide book gives it, is at: http://bjarmaland.bloggar.is/blogg/.

It was a day of driving and waterfall-watching after that. We have rarely seen such gorgeous scenery. Every new fjord we encountered and every mountain in between that we crossed -- each had its own serene beauty.

Check it out:

Check out the long and winding (gravel) road behind us.

This is the Dynjandi Waterfall. Can you tell we liked it?

This pass helps put the "ice" in Iceland.

This is the town of Isafjordur, home to 3,000 of the Westfjord's 8,000 inhabitants.

We're glad we talked the waiter out of bringing us two entrees tonight at the Tar House restaurant. One was plenty for the two of us. What you don't see is the humongous tureen of fish soup.

Despite being here a week and day so far, our grasp of the Icelandic road signs is still poor. But we think this one says "Leaving San Francisco."

We're now in Isafjordur, near the northwestern tip of Iceland. We checked in with our sea kayak guide this afternoon. Instead of a four-day kayak/camping trip, it looks like the weather is going to force us to shorten it to two days. Which means we'll be off the grid for the next couple of days and not posting to this blog.

The good news: they allow cameras on the kayaks, meaning we should have some terrific photos to share once we get back to civilization.