This is the Icelandic Riviera.
Beautiful, isn’t it!
We arrived after the blizzard which made our trip to Iceland a long and winding one. When we arrived, only the first few streets in Akureyri were passable. It’ll be many days before normalcy returns. Our flight landed in drifting snow, with drifts on the runway, after a glorious flight over the highlands. It’s a good thing we picked a guest house right downtown, just in case of something like this! Here’s our view at 4 a.m.
As you can see, Akureyri is still beautiful. We have some washing to do, but drying is going to be a challenge. Here’s our clothesline.
Do note the lights. Yesterday afternoon, in all the small towns across the north, no one had any power at all, and all the roads were still locked down tight with avalanches, snow and drifts. But here in Akureyri, people were out and about. Piles of snow everywhere, and big machinery moving it around.
Kind of a city of mountains at the moment, as the winds (35 metres per second) blew it all off the mountains and left it in town. But Christmas shopping carried on, I got to shovel snow, and the cinema was open!
And the advent lights were in all the windows.
We came to find the darkness of winter. We also found its light.
Shield volcano, with path.
Skogarkot
Both are heads. Literally. The word remains in English as a cob, known in cobblestones (each has a round head) or a cape, which is also a headland, and that’s the Icelandic word: hæð, or head, or height. Remember that for the culture that settled this magical place, these really were heads. And so they remain.
Troll, Just Hatched, at Dimmu Borgir
The Hraunfosser, or the lava field falls, are really worth the visit, even in winter.
Even in the snow!
Sure, you can lose important stuff in the snow, because you have to negotiate snacks, camera, wallet, hat, gloves, snow, and slippery paths. Here I am after running across the bridge looking for likely nice people and finding them. Look how she takes charge. He should keep her close, I think. (It was my wife who found the wallet and sent me on my sprint across the icy bridge with no people in sight.)
This Russian-French (?) couple was happy to get his passport and all his money back. He didn’t even know he’d lost it when he put on his gloves back before the bridge.
Note how I keep my stuff in a little daypack now. Can you tell it’s a been-there-done-that situation?
Just another day in Iceland! I hope they’re doing well. Meanwhile, back to the light. What there is of it!
Barnafoss
Watch your step! (And do get a daypack. Really.)
Well, it’s freezing in Hallormstaðir, and the Lagarfljót isn’t, shall we say, a great place for swimming today, but while the weather stations are warning of heavy snow and ice ahead, let’s remember the ice of April, as it breaks on the shore with the music of a flock of 100,000 tiny birds. The ice is the birds, as it shatters and lifts, and refreezes and tilts and falls, and washes in on the waves, all written with the record of a year.
What wondrous runes telling of every moment the winter through.
It’s beginning now. If you go down to the lake, you might catch the first words, but do stay safe on those slick roads.
And if you can’t, well, there’s April, when the ice plays its recording, just once, in birdsong.