From Hot Pots to Shark Meat

 I feel as if I have moved here all alone and am starting the journey of making a new life for myself; forced to meet new people, find my new favorite coffee shop and figuring out how to be the next puzzle piece to this society. As lonely as it is, I have found an addiction to the anxiousness over the little things like going to the grocery store or purchasing a postage stamp.

I was fortunate enough to become acquainted with a local yesterday which was the key to opening up the book that is Ísafjörður. I have been asking myself, "Why, out of all places to visit in Iceland for such an extended period of time, did you pick this place?!" To give you a sense of the size, the majority of the town lies on the spit and takes a healthy 9.53 minutes to walk its entirety.

The little yellow star shows my current place of residency

While everything is within walking distance (so to speak) a vehicle is highly recommended for transportation to surrounding areas of the fjords ESPECIALLY in their off season...which is now.

Rico took me out to a neighboring town by the name of Bolungarvík. We took a gravel road out of town and up through the fjords. The road wound through fall colored pastures, home to a multitude of sheep and Icelandic Ponies (I was like a kid staring into a candy store with my nose print smudged on the car window staring at the herds of horses). Reaching the crest of this pass, the fjords opened up to an expansive landscape encompassed by plateaus that guided the land down to the ocean bay once again literally taking my breath away (I'm not kidding when I say I had a hard time breathing for a hot sec because of the majesty of the scene).

(I made the joke in my last post about waterfalls,  but here it is again to drive the point home) Waterfalls everywhere. They adorned the side of the fjords playing into the low laying clouds adding to the mysticism of the area along with the green landscape married to the cold ocean forcing itself against the mountains and the black beach -- I have no words to explain the experience of being in such a place except that God put a piece of Scandinavia and Scotland in a blender and served up Iceland. Ta-da!

Looking down on Bolungarvík

The Cat is Back!

The next destination was a hike up to Bolafjall, a mountain outside of town that houses a radar station. The radar station which was formerly a US surveillance station is still operational and run by the Icelandic Coast guard. 

We began the trek in slush and slight overcast and by the time we reached the top winter was blowing strong! Similarly to Colorado, you can't trust the forecast and the weather changes like the moods of a teenager. From the top you the surrounding fjords are visible and would be (weather providing) an excellent spot to eat lunch and whale watch. Unfortunately the clouds made it difficult to hang around and wait for the possibility of the speck of a whale swimming in the abyss below. 

Top of Bolafjall

The remainder of the evening was spent in the "hot pots". Supposedly, a typical social gathering for the Icelanders is to meet in the evening in the hot tubs. Icelanders and mountain children have a lot in common...In winter we like to jump out of the hot tub and roll around in the snow before getting back in, well, the in Iceland they take it to a professional level and provide a special tub containing water that is 5 degrees Celsius (41 Fahrenheit)! I was coerced into participating in this tradition and submerged myself into this practically freezing water for 10 seconds (apparently the correct way is to do it for 30 seconds).

On the drive home the Northern Lights were strongest they have been since I've been here; giant green flames licked the sky for about 40minutes before dissipating into the stars.

Fun Icelandic facts I learned: THEY EAT ROTTEN SHARK MEAT! Yuck. It is called hákarl made from the meat of a Sleeper Shark (these are very interesting creatures and if you are interested I encourage you to google them - this is not a biology lecture so I will omit the details of this shark's anatomy and physiology). Basically they let the dead shark hang or bury it for months after it has died to release the toxins held in the meat, then they eat it. Maybe sometime within the next 8 days I will buck up and try some, stay tuned!

For dinner we had a traditional Icelandic dish called Plokkfiskur which is "mashed fish". The cod fish, potatoes and onions are mashed together with starches to make a fish lasagna. Topped off with extra cheese and bon appétit! It's ....amazing. 


To drag this post out a little longer, as per requested by Becky, here is my attempting to pronounce some new words I learned in Icelandic. Plokkfiskur: masher fish, hákarl: shark meat, snjókall: snowman



The experiences I have had thus far make me feel as though I have already been away from the comfort of my mountains for months when in reality it has only been a few days. Maybe I am starting a new life, and this trip is the preface, creating a new foundation for me to build on.

Stepping onto the Lonely Planet

“It’s a dangerous business, stepping out your door, and if you don’t keep your feet there’s no telling where you might be swept off to” – Bilbo LOTR 

Cheers to the great glory of travel; the craving to experience that which is unknown. The prospect of travel has, and will forever be, an itch needing a scratch. That being said, getting on the airplane to begin this two month journey of flying alone, arriving alone and traveling to foreign countries whose languages I can barely pronounce “hello” in, I was terrified. It was a close second to the anxiety of taking your final exams. 

For those that are not in the loop, the first leg of this journey is to Iceland and then I will be headed to Norway. The gods of the great north took pity in my anxiety because as I was flying in, the Aurora Borealis danced against the backdrop of stars welcoming me to The Lonely Planet. 

þingvellir

To all the future Icelandic travelers out there, Reykjavík is like the hour of preschool where they give you crayons and let you draw all over the walls…it’s an easy place to survive is what I mean.

I arrived in Reykjavík at 0600 giving me all day to experience the city. Another hostel guest and I decided to go on the “Golden Circle Tour”. 

Basically, they carted us around to some of the biggest tourist attractions in that area of Iceland: þingvellir (largest naturally occurring lake in Iceland and is located in a valley that is the crest of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge), Gullfoss (a massive waterfall. What? A waterfall in Iceland?! You don’t say…), The Great Geysir (spewing egg smelling boiling water up to 50 m in the air! Fun fact: the word “geyser” is derived from the Icelandic word “geysa” which means “to gush”) and finally Kerið (giant crater filled with pristine aquamarine water).  

Gullfoss

Kerið

The Lennon “Imagine Peace Tower” is a pillar of blue light that shines from 2000 – 0000 Oct. 6 – Dec. 8 (along with other random dates) to commemorate the birth and death of the beloved British musician. The peace tower is a symbol to promote world peace as the light shines up as far as you can see and its illuminance endures any weather that tries to hide or deter the light. Now, I am no granola crunching hippie peace creep, but the symbolism and the light is a significant plea to the conscious of the planet. 

Imagine Peace Tower

Once you have been to Iceland you immediately understand where the idea of “The Lonely Planet” came from. The culture thus far has not stuck me as drastically different as the rest of the world as one could expect from “The Lonely Planet”, it is the small idiosyncrasies such as the Peace Tower which contributes to the overwhelming cleanliness of the energy surrounding Iceland. 

The geography is expansive and rich with color, even during this time of year. I’m not just referring to the iconic green vegetation that dresses the rocks, but all the water is deep seated in its own shade of blue or grey and the rocks and soil soak in their hue to create the stark contrast of earthy tones throughout the landscape. 

Today I spent my entire morning fumbling my way around Reykjavík WITH both of my packs, in the dark and rain to get to the local airport. I finally arrived and took the short flight to the town of Ísafjörður. Stepping off that plane and being surrounded by these snow touched fjords I was in awe and I felt as if a wide angle camera was moving around me like in the movies. The majesty of the fjords was short lived when I took a couple steps through the terminal outside to the parking lot. There was nobody to ask for help and there was no schedule for the supposed “Red Fly Bus” that I needed to take to get to town. 

Today's travel path denoted by red arrow

The single employee at the terminal pulled me a favor and called the driver to come back and pick me up (he did not seem pleased about it). This town is small, very different than the main hub of Iceland, especially in its off season. I had a lot of “What am I doing” thoughts throughout the day. It has been challenging (the language barrier being the most difficult and feeling like a fool every time I try and say “hei”), but here I am alive and showered, ready to take on a nice full night of sleep! 

Ísafjörður

I do feel as if I have stepped into a medieval scene of a fairy-tale or fantastical adventure. The land is old, but untainted by the turmoil of the rest of the world. This northern hemisphere island is innocently ancient.