It was another early start on Thursday as I was headed on my second tour in as many days, focusing on the South Coast of Iceland. This wasn't the tour that I had initially wanted to do - this was the ice cave at Langjokull but Monday's storm meant there was quite a demand and it had sold out by the time I had had chance to book it - but this tour was an exceptional alternative, even if the wildlife which is usually attracted to this coast is far better in the summer months. It also meant a hell of a lot of driving - two and a half hours to Vik - which meant it was quite a long and tiring day, despite it being ultimately worth it. In addition to this, I left the main tour group halfway through to embark on a glacial walk, which is one of the most extreme things I've ever done, and this decision was definitely worth it, despite the rather high expense.
So I had to be up at 8am, at which time I was ferried to the Harpa opera house, from where the main tour bus left. Unlike the usual tour company I had used - Reykjavik Excursions - this company, Sterna, limit their tours to just 35 people so it's a more personalised service. On this trip, there was only 15 of us so we boarded our fluorescent green minivan and were soon on our way, with the excellent driver/guide telling us about a range of interesting facts about all of the things we were driving past. Unfortunately, due to the 11am sunrise at this time of year, we couldn't really see an awful lot until we got to our first pit stop, and that was a petrol station where I bought one of the most delicious pre-packaged sandwiches I've ever had - a pepperoni taco baguette. Our first sight came soon after and was something of an impromptu one as our guide spotted some Icelandic horses in a field belonging to a farmer she knows. The main Icelandic horse breeds, like the cows and sheep, are smaller than the average species in continental Europe, with the horses being particularly short and squat. This makes them especially cute and they are still very strong, with horse riding a very popular activity here (there are even illuminated bridleways in the outskirts of the city). We stopped off to take some pictures and to stroke the horses too - they were all very friendly and as they saw us stroking the few that were initially near the fence, more came bounding over for stroking too. One brown horse tried to nibble my hand, which was also sweet and it was a very pleasant ten minutes looking at these delightful beasts.
Our next site was more violent though as we saw the cone of the Eyjafjallalokul volcano, which erupted in April 2010, causing much chaos across Europe and grounding flights for six days. The volcano is tucked behind a mountain range which used to form the coastal boundary of the country. However a volcanic eruption in 1783 gave Iceland three more miles of coastline, which is less dramatic is it is flat on its way to the sea. In addition to this, there are a couple of mountains which used to be islands but are now surrounded by land. It was a sobering lesson in how seismic activity has shaped this nation and its general unpredictability. This was enhanced when we saw the farmhouse directly beneath the volcano, with a row of trees planted above it on the hillside in an attempt to break up avalanches which threaten the house frequently. On the day of the eruption, the farmer here had to evacuate. He could save his sheep and horses but his cows were spared largely through luck as the lava flow went a different way than what was expected. It was again another testament to the volatile landscape which has shaped this beautiful country, a terrain which is so breathtakingly beautiful that not even superlatives can do justice to describe it. One clear example of this was the waterfall at Skoga, Skogafoss. The water here tumbles 62 metres off a sheer cliff face, dancing as it falls and creating a huge backlash of spray that it's impossible not to get wet whenever you go near it. The sheer amount of water cascading down per second is phenomenal and the way it comes down in sheets, in separate little flows, only adds to the awesome sight in every sense of the word. Oddly, once the water has fallen, the stream is amongst the most tranquil I've ever seen, which again highlighted the sheer raw power of this waterfall. With the snow clinging to the rocks and all around, this is very much what you expect Iceland to be.
It was in the shadow of Eyjafjallalokul that I did my walk on the glacier of the same name. I was quite apprehensive about this, particularly when I discovered that I was the only one on the tour bus who was going on the trek. Still, I was committed to it and I was soon dropped off by the roadside where a guy called Olof met me in his jeep. We were running slightly late as a lady in a green bobble hat ignored the advice of the tour guide at Skogafoss and decided to climb right up to the top despite being limited on time, so Olof gave me a very brief introduction before driving me the 4km to the base camp where we were to get geared up. As this was a last minute thing, I hadn't brought any waterproof trousers but the delightful Debora in the hotel the night before - one of the receptionists whom I befriended during my stay - had spoken to the glacier people and they confirmed that I could borrow some trousers from them. This wasn't a problem, so I donned these and a safety harness, along with a hard hat and some crampons and waited for the others doing the tour to arrive. They were a little late but in the end there were only three of us plus the guide, not Olof but a guy who looked remarkably similar to someone I've had sex with as well as indulged in some fetish related fun. This made the walk a little tricky as my mind drifted back to past events but the other two on the tour - an American couple from Washington DC - were pleasant and talkative, and so kept me distracted. With a little apprehension (not to mention gas) in my belly, we set off down the trail to the head of the glacier, with me being delighted with the additional grip that the crampons provided. Unfortunately, they are a flat piece of metal and so don't respond well to the bending of the foot, meaning my naughty feet kept slipping out of them, needing the tour guide to kneel down and fix them for me. This didn't help my thoughts either. Anyway, the grip was phenomenal and I only fell over once - and that was when the crampons had worked their way loose - although we did misjudge the thickness of the ice in one place and I lost my left leg all the way down to my thigh just by standing on a piece of ice. The walk was denoted as easy but walking uphill, particularly in snow, is quite tough but the views of the mountains and frozen lake at the head of the glacier were undoubtedly worth it. Being up there though, we got an appreciation of the scale of global warming, with this glacier having lost 10m of height and about 3.5km of length since 1999 alone. Over the summer, a good 3m of ice has melted and although this winter some will be replaced, the guide was saying that it is never enough. The lake wasn't even visible sixteen years ago and all this ties into a prophetic and pessimistic documentary I had seen the previous night on Iceland's premier channel RUV called Ten Billion, which took the form of a lecture on climate change hosted by an eminent scientist whose conclusion was "we're fucked" in precisely those words. Seeing it first hand was devastating, particularly in a place of such beauty, with ice caves and tunnels dotted about which made for a wonderful example of the majesty of nature. We always had to follow the guide due to the number of crevasses and sinkholes on the glacier and my only regret was that due to it being winter, at times it felt more like walking up a snowy mountain than it did on a glacier as the ice was submerged under a few inches of snow. However, when the ice did surface, it was magical with different strata of blue and white, some with trapped ash and air bubbles caught within. The ice was astonishingly smooth and polished due to weathering, and because the three of us were all quite fit, we got to do a considerable amount of exploring during the three hour tour. Once it was over, with regret we headed back to base, where I spoke to the guide in the cafe for a while over a croissant as I waited for my tour bus to pick me up. They had been down into Vik and seen the black beach, coming back this way to walk to the glacier head. We saw them on our way back and the guide told me to wait in the cafe for everyone. By this time my crampons had fallen off enough (I had been trying to walk on my inside step so they wouldn't fall off) so I was carrying them, but this path was just a standard one so no extra grip was necessary (although it would have been appreciated). In the cafe we largely talked about gambling in Iceland and the price of alcohol, with the guide offering quite interesting insights into both.
With night closing in and one more stop to make, we needed to head off pretty swiftly and so soon we were all back in the van and headed towards Reykjavik. On the way, we called off at the Seljalandsfoss, arriving just before dusk. This is a narrower, smaller waterfall than before but no less impressive, tumbling down the rocky escarpment into a small pool beneath. In the summer you can walk behind the falls but this isn't recommended in winter as wet clothes in sub-zero temperatures are not a good idea. In addition to this is that the path was slippery and with darkness closing in, it wouldn't be too safe. We didn't spend long here, just enough time to see the falls and the spot where a small cafe and gift shop once stood which was blown away by the powerful winds on Monday evening. The storm affected the south coast worse than anywhere and on our trip we saw a number of barns and houses with their roofs ripped off along with a fair few workmen trying to restore electricity to the battered region. All that remains of the gift shop is the foundation place, the toilets and some benches so it must be devastating for the owner, someone else our guide knew well. She specialized in traditional knitted crafts and we all hope that the place can be rebuilt in time for the far busier summer season.
After this, we drove one and half hours back to Reykjavik, with the darkness preventing us from seeing very much. Consequently, it was the perfect time for a short nap, even if I did wake up with a painful crink in my neck. Still, it was a pleasant enough hour long snooze (and puppies like to snooze), with the guide suggesting we all have a sleep and even halting her commentary for an hour as we did. After this, she dropped us all off at our respective hotels after a glorious day, albeit one with perhaps a little too much driving. Interestingly, a lot of it was among the ring road, which is Iceland's main road and wasn't covered in Tarmac until the 1970s. Considering it is the main road, it's still only a two lane affair, with some of the bridges only suitable for one way traffic. The longest of these is 1.3km long and although it does have passing places, it's best to venture on the bridges when you are sure no one else is coming. I guess this highlights the fact that two thirds of Iceland's population of 330,000 live in the capital so the roads in the countryside don't need to be particularly wide. My tour guide on Wednesday was bemoaning this disparity between the urban population in Reykjavik (population 204,775) and the rest of the country (the next largest town is Akureyri with a population of 17,930), which was caused during the Second World War when British and American Air Force bases required labour for engineering. The wages on offer tempted the offspring of the subsistence farmers across the country, leading to a huge depopulation across the country, with most people being placed in the south-west. The government is trying to overturn this but it is difficult, for many of the same reasons why urbanization has and continues to pick up pace across the world. Anyway, once I got back to my hotel, I had a nice chat with Debora before returning to my room around fifteen minutes later.
I got back to my hotel at around 6:45pm with cold soaking feet after my rather snowy glacier walk. Checking my phone, I noticed Harry had got back to me regarding meeting - he suggested we could meet during the day but I already had the tour booked. However, he and Abby were happy to meet for an evening meal and so I quickly dried my feet and shoes using the complementary hair dryer and headed back into the centre of the city, to the Cafe Babalu where we had seen the naughty polar bear on Saturday evening. I did say I would get there at 7:30pm, no later than 7:45pm, but it was nearer 8pm as this was Debora's last shift before my departure and she wanted to chat some more before saying farewell. I also bumped into a charming Finnish couple in the street who wanted directions to the city centre. I felt obliged to chat to them a while as I was heading in the same direction before I made my excuses and darted off, not wanting to be later than I already was due to being slowed down by the lady's heels (why she was wearing heels in snowy and icy conditions I don't know). Anyway I arrived at Babalu just before 8pm, where Abby and Harry were waiting for me, desperately hungry and wanting some food. I had had my pepperoni taco baguette at 4pm as I had forgotten to eat before the glacier walk, but I was feeling a little peckish so I let them guide me to where they wanted to go. Abby fancied lasagne but the prices in the Italian restaurants proved to be somewhat too high, so after much umming and arring, we went to the American Style diner for an average burger and fries (I got the Kevin Bacon) at reasonable prices. Harry asked whether I wanted to try whale or puffin but the sustainability of these species concerns me - particularly the latter - while Icelanders very rarely eat these meats themselves (indeed most only eat them once a year during the Thorramatur festival dedicated to the Norse gods). Tourists eating three meats have reduced wildlife numbers significantly plus I was influenced by an advert for the Eldring whale watching tour which carried the phrase "Meet me, don't eat me" above a cartoon whale. This stuck with me throughout my trip. After this, we grabbed a drink in Skuli where we saw a charming doggle while they had the same guy behind the bar as in Micro Bar on Tuesday evening. Apparently he works at both so I chatted with him for a while before choosing a delicious IPA which I enjoyed in great company. Harry wanted cigarettes here - and in the shop we visited later - but I insisted he shouldn't get any as he's now twelve days into quitting smoking and making good progress.
A pylsir at Iceland's most famous hotdog stand followed, a place that even Bill Clinton had visited. It was founded in 1937 and has been dispensing meaty goodness to revelers ever since. This was the fifth pylsir I had had in Iceland and although tasty, I don't get the guidebook's obsession with them. They are essentially cinema hotdogs served with fried and crispy onions, with three sauces including ketchup and a fruity brown roulade. They are tasty enough but nothing outstanding, although at least it was good to try then I suppose. After this, we went shopping in a bookshop as Abby needed some things (I was tempted to buy Wolfie the Icelandic versions of the Minions books) before we descended on the Kalti bar, only to find that once again it was rammed and thus there were no places to sit (at least indoors, we could have sat outdoors but it was far too cold). This meant our final drink of the night was in Bunk Bar as Abby was starting to suffer from IBS and had forgotten her pills, plus she had work the next morning too. She popped into s clothes shop while Harry and I bought a drink, in my case a stunning double IPA at 9.6%. Like Sweden, Iceland has some stunning microbreweries and craft brew houses too, which is a surprise considering beer was illegal here until
1989. While we drank, we chatted about a range of furry things before it was time to leave, not before Harry has scared the table behind us with his close examination of an electrical socket between our table and theirs. I walked the duo back to the main bus station at Hlemmar which was on the way back to my hotel anyway. I had offered Harry some free beer as I had overspent at the state owned off licence Vinbudin but Abby wanted to get home and didn't want to wait half an hour for the next bus. So I said farewell to them and thanked them for coming out once again - I know weekdays are tough for them so it was a real pleasure and honour to see them again. After this, I headed back to my hotel, ending up having a twenty minute discussion with the nighttime receptionist Albert, who is a Manchester United fan. He was telling me that they work a week of 12 hour shifts but then have a full week off which is certainly something I could do. After our chat, I then headed up to my room, trying the three beers I had bought at Vinbudin before heading to bed, probably far later than I should have considering I had an 8am bus booked to transfer me to the airport to end this rather magical and fantastic week.