Monday 3 August 2015

SNAEFELLSNES & WESTFJORDS

MY CHARIOT
TECHNICOLOR CROSSING AT BORGARNES
THE SHAEFELLJOKULL VOLCANO
DERELICT SKI LIFT
MEMORIAL TO GUDRIDUR THORBJARNARDOTTIR
BASALT COLUMNS ON COAST
STEEP CLIFFS AND HIGH PLATEAUS ON WAY TO LATRABJARG
PUFFIN AT LATRABJARG CLIFFS
The car had left-hand drive, and I hadn't driven one of those for a good while, so I practiced on the back roads near the hostel before venturing onto the main roads. The maximum speed limit on tarmac roads in Iceland is 90kph (56mph), which quite suited me.

From Reykjavik I initially drove north along Route 1, reaching the 3.6 mile long Hvalfjordur tunnel which costs 1,000 ISK (about £5) to pass through. The traffic was busy at first, but gradually thinned out as I got further away from the city. I randomly stopped at places that I thought might be of interest such as Akranes and Borgarnes. At the latter I came across a technicolour zebra crossing - so much more cheerful than boring monochrome ones seen elsewhere. I think that Icelanders love colour to lift their spirits in the long grey winters.

Leaving Route 1 at Borganes, my target for the day was to get somewhere near the end of the Snaefellsnes peninsula. By now my journey had become a pleasant evening drive on largely empty roads. I ended up at Arnarstapi, managing to find a quiet spot for the night up a gravel side track. I folded the rear seats down, but sleeping in the back of the car wasn't that comfortable because it wasn't flat. Still, I managed.

In the morning I could begin to appreciate the landscape much more as the sun rose higher in the sky. I had parked just south of the Snaefelljokull volcano and resolved to take a morning walk up to the edge of the glacier that dominates the view of the peninsula from all directions.

French novelist Jules Verne made Snaefellsjokull world famous in his novel 'Journey to the Centre of the Earth' as it was by going down a crater on Snaefellsjokull that his three adventurers reached the centre of the earth before eventually being carried out to Stromboli, Italy, in an eruption.

After about 2 hours of walking I reached the ruins of an old ski lift - perhaps a casualty of global warming - and could see over to the north side of the peninsula.

Returning to the car, my next stop was Hellnar, where they had an informative visitor centre with old photographs showing what life was like for the fishing communities on the peninsula. I also made a short stop at a sculpture commemorating Gudridur Thorbjarnardottir, the first woman to give birth to a white baby in North America.

I enjoyed my picnic lunch at Londranger (no, not Lone Ranger), where basalt columns and magnificent rock columns were visible from the cliffs and then, continuing my drive around the head of the peninsula, stopped briefly to climb the 109m, 3-4,000 year old Saxholl crater which is close to the road.

Time was moving on. I picked up some food at Stykkisholmur after which the road surface changed from tarmac to gravel as I left the peninsula. That slowed me down a bit until I reached Route 60 and turned north, heading for the Westfjords.

I passed by a filling station at Budardalur; ten minutes later it occured to me that this might be the last opportunity to fill up for a while, so I turned back. It was a good call because I didn't come across any more filling stations that evening.

Having crossed the Gilsjordur bridge I was now in the Westfjords, but since the sun would be directly in my eyes for the rest of the evening, I decided to stop near Bjarkalunder for the night and continue in the morning with the sun behind me.

At 8.00am I was on my way again. Yesterday's scenery had comprised lavafields around Snaefellsjokull which, as I continued to the Westfjords, became farmland - where it wasn't too mountainous, that is. Now the scenery reminded me of Scotland, with twisty roads weaving between steep mountains. Then there were the fjords, of course, many of them so long that it was hard to tell if they were connected to the sea or not.

The road was narrow and, at times, precipitous, and the surface ranged from tarmac to gravel. It certainly demanded concentration. I stopped for coffee at an hotel at Floklunder, then left Route 60 for Route 62, which enabled me to stay close to the coast and remain on tarmac a little longer. However, I was aiming for Latrabjarg, the westernmost point of Iceland and the place where puffins and other birds can be seen in great numbers. This can only be reached by enduring 30 miles of gravel road. I just hoped that I didn't get a puncture.

I noted that the mountain terrain had changed again. Now it was high plateaus edged with steep cliffs which fell sharply down to the sea. The coast roads got even more exciting since there was no barrier to stop cars driving right off the edge. I kept both hands firmly on the wheel at all times, especially when vehicles coming from the other direction passed me.

Along the way, at Hnjotor, I was surprised to see a dismantled US Navy Douglas C117 aircraft alongside the road. This type was apparently used to assist with emergency evacuation of Vestmannaeyjar (Westman Islands) during the volcanic eruptions in 1973. This particular aircraft was presumably bought by an Icelander when it was retired from service in 1977 and has ended up in this 'scrap' museum.

I parked the car at Brunnar, an old fishing station which went into disuse about 1880, and walked the remaining mile or so to Latrabjarg. Just as the Visitors' Guides had promised, the nearby cliffs were covered in birds, but it was the puffins I had come to see. I hadn't realised that they lived in holes in the cliff, effectively making them cave dwellers. They were incredibly tame and, by laying down with a camera close to the cliff edge, they would come almost right up to me.

Satisfied that I'd had my puffin 'fix', I ate my picnic lunch, walked back to the car and prepared for another 30 miles of gravel road to get back to Route 62, then another 25 miles of tarmac road to reach Bildudalur where I had booked a hostel. Still, it was sunny and warm, and I was in no hurry.

I arrived at Bildudalur around 6.00pm, found the hostel, and checked into my dorm for six (which I understood would be full tonight). It was a really nice place, spotlessly clean, right on the harbourside and surrounded by mountains.

And I heard that the cafe around the corner served beer........