In the night it feels like the bed was at some kind of angle.
I get up early because there's a lot to do. Blog up-dates. Breakfast. Packing. Inquiry about storage room. Boat ticket.
One of the bakeries is already open. The table has a strange tilt, together with the floor.
Internet is complicated because people on budget live in another house of the hostel and there's no WiFi. You have to go to the main house for that. The main house is open only during daytime when the personell is there. In the evening for example until 8. In the morning it's already open. I find a place near electricity socket and it appears to be in front of Marcus' room. His red period is over and blue one starting. I run out of time and blog stays in Jan Mayen.
Things and gear have to be divided into two piles. The ones that come to Hornstrandir and the ones that stay behind. And I have to find someone who takes care of the later while I'm out there. Young girl in hostel reception has her first day at work and is not very certain how a situation like this should be handled. A phone call to someone says that it's possible to leave the things in Hótel Ísafjörður. So there they go.
Next stop is travel company because I remember that boat time table was on their homepage. They should know from where the boat goes. They also sell tickets. It appears that I've had the wrong impression like the boat was coming back in the morning. Instead it comes around 6 in the evening. Or later. That means I'll miss my flight to Reykjavík. Back to the hotel to ask if they have a room available on 1st of July. The establishment is somehow connected with the hostel and so I get a dorm place. Changing my flight to the next day goes also smoothly and costs 20 euros. Already on the boat I remember to cancel the Reykjavík accommodation. We're still in network and luckily there's bookingcom app. Phuu. Taking fuel from the same station as with Aurora.
Racing back the way we came in the night. Instead of graceful sailing we now bump heavily against the waves splashing water all around. Horizon through the wet window looks like cardiogram. It's raining.
I leave the boat in Aðalvík, Látrar. Some other hikers, about six of them, do the same. I put on rain clothes and start going. Somehow franctic was the arrival here. But here are flowers and lush greenery all around. Hornstrandir is one of the wildest places in Iceland. Next to other wild places. Looks like troll's footprint on the map. No overland connection with the rest of the country. Known mostly because of hiking trails, steep cliff in Hornvík, especially bad weather and polar foxes. One of the foxes is right there beside the road, looks at me distrustfully and disappears into den. Ducks seem to have a competition how many ducklings fit on one stone. Maximum appears to be six.
Rest of the hikers are suddenly gone. I ford a river and look at the map. Damn, wrong place. But it's still beautiful here. Lots of flowers and very quiet. Cross the river again and remember to be more attentive. GPS luckily knows the hiking trails if I zoom in more. In the right place there in no visible trail. So it must be invisible. I continue along GPS track, stones and moss. Two people come from the right, look puzzled but do not ask anything. They're French. Ok, maybe they don't speak English or any other language known to civilized people. I continue with my nose in the GPS, the French go back to where they came from.
The trail goes up. It doesn't have anywhere else to go. And into the fog. Half of the sceenery disappears in or behind the fog and the trail also disappears. There where I should be heading according to the GPS is a steep white wall until the cloud. I look thoughtfully to one side and to other side but the map doesn't promise anything good neither side. So I attack the wall. Progress is slow because snow is not soft and I don't sink in and it's a bit slippery. Everything is white all around. Finally I see something that appears to be a man-made stone pile in the upper right corner of the circle of visibility. Yeah, the trail. Should be marked here with crains. Fog is so thick that I can bearly distinguish the next crain. Probably stricking views all the way but for me there's nothing to see here. There could be a group of Chinese tourists hundred meters from me and I wouldn't notice a thing. Although at some moments I think that I can hear voices.
The climb is replaced by a plateau and then by a steep decline. Down the hill are a lot of flowers of all kinds. And a lot of thick wet grass. The trail has disappeared again. A wider stream where it is necessary to remove boots and socks. Water isn't exactly warm. Everything is disgustingly wet and cold. Next is a wide water. Crossable in case of low tide. At other times it should be circled. The other shore is far away. Circling would probably take many hours. It's almost nine o'clock. On the other side of the water is an emergency shelter. Some sandbanks. Looks like the tide is not in. I decide to give it a try. Everything is wet anyway. Remove boots and all trousers except underwear. Get about half way when water starts to touch my bum. Damn, it's too deep. I try going a bit upsteam and get a small stretch further but still get nowhere. More upstream and from there it goes. Some scary muddy places. The ground looks like someone was living in there. Better not to look down. A narrow strip of stones on the other side and two people. Small white birds have decided to keep me away and attack from above. No, I'm not turning back now! Avoiding the nesting site I struggle to come to the shore over slippery stones. The two people turn into local boys and suggest that I ask from the first house about campsite. Then they take a canoe and paddle out to the lagoon. A flock of ducks flies almost through me.
Install clothes back and aim to the houses. They are far away. I'm also very cold now. All gound is wet and full of flowers.
Reach the house at the same time with the boys. There's a cheerful man who says that campsite is about 700 meters away and there's an outhouse and running water. Running water I have seen. It runs down the mountains everywhere here. He asks where I'm from and concludes that then it was not us who stepped out of the EU. No, we only step into various stuff.
I don't notice any path and so come to another house. Also with a man. He says that it would be ok to be in the emergency shelter. Good, I was actually planning to do that anyway. I have a big wet emergency. Water is clearly a problem now.
The shelter comes with lot of dishes, a bed, sleeping bags, rain clothes, wollen socks and satellite phone. Not that I need all that. Wet clothes off, dry socks on. Food, hot tea. Cover myself with sleeping bags. I was actually planning to sleep on the floor but then again, why not use the bed. I build a nest for myself and enjoy my toes being dry and warm.
One of the bakeries is already open. The table has a strange tilt, together with the floor.
Internet is complicated because people on budget live in another house of the hostel and there's no WiFi. You have to go to the main house for that. The main house is open only during daytime when the personell is there. In the evening for example until 8. In the morning it's already open. I find a place near electricity socket and it appears to be in front of Marcus' room. His red period is over and blue one starting. I run out of time and blog stays in Jan Mayen.
Things and gear have to be divided into two piles. The ones that come to Hornstrandir and the ones that stay behind. And I have to find someone who takes care of the later while I'm out there. Young girl in hostel reception has her first day at work and is not very certain how a situation like this should be handled. A phone call to someone says that it's possible to leave the things in Hótel Ísafjörður. So there they go.
Next stop is travel company because I remember that boat time table was on their homepage. They should know from where the boat goes. They also sell tickets. It appears that I've had the wrong impression like the boat was coming back in the morning. Instead it comes around 6 in the evening. Or later. That means I'll miss my flight to Reykjavík. Back to the hotel to ask if they have a room available on 1st of July. The establishment is somehow connected with the hostel and so I get a dorm place. Changing my flight to the next day goes also smoothly and costs 20 euros. Already on the boat I remember to cancel the Reykjavík accommodation. We're still in network and luckily there's bookingcom app. Phuu. Taking fuel from the same station as with Aurora.
Racing back the way we came in the night. Instead of graceful sailing we now bump heavily against the waves splashing water all around. Horizon through the wet window looks like cardiogram. It's raining.
I leave the boat in Aðalvík, Látrar. Some other hikers, about six of them, do the same. I put on rain clothes and start going. Somehow franctic was the arrival here. But here are flowers and lush greenery all around. Hornstrandir is one of the wildest places in Iceland. Next to other wild places. Looks like troll's footprint on the map. No overland connection with the rest of the country. Known mostly because of hiking trails, steep cliff in Hornvík, especially bad weather and polar foxes. One of the foxes is right there beside the road, looks at me distrustfully and disappears into den. Ducks seem to have a competition how many ducklings fit on one stone. Maximum appears to be six.
Rest of the hikers are suddenly gone. I ford a river and look at the map. Damn, wrong place. But it's still beautiful here. Lots of flowers and very quiet. Cross the river again and remember to be more attentive. GPS luckily knows the hiking trails if I zoom in more. In the right place there in no visible trail. So it must be invisible. I continue along GPS track, stones and moss. Two people come from the right, look puzzled but do not ask anything. They're French. Ok, maybe they don't speak English or any other language known to civilized people. I continue with my nose in the GPS, the French go back to where they came from.
The trail goes up. It doesn't have anywhere else to go. And into the fog. Half of the sceenery disappears in or behind the fog and the trail also disappears. There where I should be heading according to the GPS is a steep white wall until the cloud. I look thoughtfully to one side and to other side but the map doesn't promise anything good neither side. So I attack the wall. Progress is slow because snow is not soft and I don't sink in and it's a bit slippery. Everything is white all around. Finally I see something that appears to be a man-made stone pile in the upper right corner of the circle of visibility. Yeah, the trail. Should be marked here with crains. Fog is so thick that I can bearly distinguish the next crain. Probably stricking views all the way but for me there's nothing to see here. There could be a group of Chinese tourists hundred meters from me and I wouldn't notice a thing. Although at some moments I think that I can hear voices.
The climb is replaced by a plateau and then by a steep decline. Down the hill are a lot of flowers of all kinds. And a lot of thick wet grass. The trail has disappeared again. A wider stream where it is necessary to remove boots and socks. Water isn't exactly warm. Everything is disgustingly wet and cold. Next is a wide water. Crossable in case of low tide. At other times it should be circled. The other shore is far away. Circling would probably take many hours. It's almost nine o'clock. On the other side of the water is an emergency shelter. Some sandbanks. Looks like the tide is not in. I decide to give it a try. Everything is wet anyway. Remove boots and all trousers except underwear. Get about half way when water starts to touch my bum. Damn, it's too deep. I try going a bit upsteam and get a small stretch further but still get nowhere. More upstream and from there it goes. Some scary muddy places. The ground looks like someone was living in there. Better not to look down. A narrow strip of stones on the other side and two people. Small white birds have decided to keep me away and attack from above. No, I'm not turning back now! Avoiding the nesting site I struggle to come to the shore over slippery stones. The two people turn into local boys and suggest that I ask from the first house about campsite. Then they take a canoe and paddle out to the lagoon. A flock of ducks flies almost through me.
Install clothes back and aim to the houses. They are far away. I'm also very cold now. All gound is wet and full of flowers.
Reach the house at the same time with the boys. There's a cheerful man who says that campsite is about 700 meters away and there's an outhouse and running water. Running water I have seen. It runs down the mountains everywhere here. He asks where I'm from and concludes that then it was not us who stepped out of the EU. No, we only step into various stuff.
I don't notice any path and so come to another house. Also with a man. He says that it would be ok to be in the emergency shelter. Good, I was actually planning to do that anyway. I have a big wet emergency. Water is clearly a problem now.
The shelter comes with lot of dishes, a bed, sleeping bags, rain clothes, wollen socks and satellite phone. Not that I need all that. Wet clothes off, dry socks on. Food, hot tea. Cover myself with sleeping bags. I was actually planning to sleep on the floor but then again, why not use the bed. I build a nest for myself and enjoy my toes being dry and warm.
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