Arnarstapi is marketed as a quaint fishing village. What that means is tour busses from Reykjavik dropping off crowds, who line up at the fish and chips shop, not that fish and chips is anything other than a British dish, but what the heck.
Here’s the fishing fleet in the harbour. In the depleted seas, it survives by catching fish for the fish and chips shop.
Here’s a beach warning sign I found at Dritvik on June 21.
Note the life ring.
Go at low tide.
Just a thought.
Parking a car in Reykjavik is tough…
… because houses and hotels are already parked in the available spots, more hotels every month. Parallel parking skills won’t help. Cross parking is the trick.
What do you do with all those industrial plastic fish bins after they have been used to empty out the sea?
You make a beach, that’s what you do — into a lake that is now severely compromised by hydroelectric dam run-off, and then you sell it.
I love Egilsstaðir, truly, precisely because it is not romantic.
I thought I’d look up from the Glacial Lagoon …
… show of humans being beautiful for themselves and for each other by posing (warmly) within luxurious images of humanly-initiated global climate change…
… to see what the glacier thought of all this. Ah, well, look, I’m glad it did. The cheeky thing…
… was sticking its tongue out at us! Just a tiny bit. Between compressed lips.