Greetings from Ísafjörður!
As I mentioned in the last post, I am currently travelling through the West Fjords on my #bookdroptour. Which is, yes, a working tour, but also a chance to enjoy touring my beautiful country. And if you are familiar with Iceland prices, you will appreciate what a luxury it is to be able to write those travel costs off on your taxes. 🤪
The West Fjords are “the head of the beast” if you are looking at Iceland on the map, and it gets markedly fewer tourists than the rest of the country. Likely on account of its being quite remote, and being set away from the Ring Road. Here’s a map, so you’ll see the area I mean:
We left Reykjavík on Monday and spent the first night near Hólmavík. Then we continued north along the eastern side of the West Fjords, an area known as Strandir (“coasts”). It is stunningly beautiful, and has some of the most imposing and scary mountains in all of Iceland. To say nothing of those mountain roads with a sheer drop down one side: not for the faint of heart!
The road that trails Strandir is a gravel road, and it’s pretty rough in places, with lots of potholes and such. About two hours of bouncing up and down I remarked to EPI how crazy we were to subject ourselves to this agony for just a single nights’ stay. Then I remembered that, five years ago, I travelled that same route back and forth in one day with my daughter, Aldís.
Certifiably insane.
However, when we got to our destination, it was all worth it—though next time I will definitely plan on spending more than one night. Not least because it is such a magical, peaceful area, with such interesting people.
This is one of my favourite places on the island: Krossneslaug pool, set right on the seashore:
When the tide is high and during a storm, the waves come crashing right up to the side. That was my first experience of this pool, and I just can’t get enough.
This is taken at around 10 pm. The pool is very warm, heated with geothermal heat in the area, and it was a super relaxing way to end the day. Back to our accommodation, and straight to bed … and this was my view on waking:
Not featured: the sound of the waves. Pure bliss.
On our way back we stopped at the old abandoned herring factory in Djúpavík, which has a fascinating history.
It was incredibly advanced and state-of-the-art in its day, a hugely ambitious project in such a remote location. But pretty much as soon as it was built, the herring disappeared, the factory was abandoned, and fell into disrepair until the current owners came along and revived the place. Now it hosts art exhibitions and the occasional concert (if you have seen Sigur Rós’s film Heima you may recognize it), and there are daily tours. I love stopping there and have even made some friends at Hótel Djúpavík (hi Danielle and Nadine!) where they sell my books. 😊
Incidentally, I am posting a chronicle of my travels on my Instagram and Facebook stories. Normally those disappear in 24 hours, but I am saving them in my Instagram highlights (accessible on my IG profile page) called Bookdrop 2024, if you want to see more.
Amazing as all that was, however, there was one place that completely took my breath away. I had not been there in 20 years, and found myself deeply moved by it, which was a complete surprise.
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