In the evening it turnes out that I'm not alone in the roome but share it with a guy.
He
doesn't speak at all and we try to avoid eachother as much as possible.
Only smile when we're occasionally forced to meet.
I wake up a couple of times in the night and sunshine is visible through the curtain. What a waste.
Breakfast in the bakery. Force the lady there to speak Icelandic.
I drop my big luggage off to the boat and proceed to the travel agency. The guy from my room is already there. Seems like we're going together to Vigur island. He's French. Fluent in French apparently. No other languages whatsoever. That explains the not speaking part. And makes communication with him a bit complicated because neither me nor the travel agency staff speaks French.
We'll be in a group of three. Me, the French guy and the guide. Guide's name could be Gunnar but could also be something else. I don't register any introduction. He's probably fluent in Icelandic and English but prefers not to speak either.
First we zigzag past some fjords to reach the starting point. Kayaks into water and off we go. Water is very clear with stones and Icelandic version of corals clearly visible. Bit more wind once we're out of the fjord but even I'm not scared. Sun reflects from the water, birds fly around and a seal sticks it's head out between two waves.
On Vigur there are a few houses, children on the beach and birds all over the place. We can use a friendly balcony for picnic and sunshine. It's getting really hot in the wet suit. Time seems to stand still. I could sit here for hours. Except for the suit.
Pretty soon we have to get back into the kayaks so that we wouldn't get stuck on the island and I wouldn't miss the boat. It's picking up wind. But we still have time to linger around in the fjord and admire the surroundings. Gunnar gets more talkative. He really seems to enjoy his job.
After soup and ice cream in Ísafjörður I walk to the boat. The rest of the gang are already there. Everyone has some agenda or special interest for gong to such an obscure place.
Mountains glow in the low sunlight as we sail out of Ísafjörður. It's windy before Hornstrandir and then calm again. A ghost is steering the boat. Have to get used to living in a cramped area which moves to unexpected directions.
I wake up a couple of times in the night and sunshine is visible through the curtain. What a waste.
Breakfast in the bakery. Force the lady there to speak Icelandic.
I drop my big luggage off to the boat and proceed to the travel agency. The guy from my room is already there. Seems like we're going together to Vigur island. He's French. Fluent in French apparently. No other languages whatsoever. That explains the not speaking part. And makes communication with him a bit complicated because neither me nor the travel agency staff speaks French.
We'll be in a group of three. Me, the French guy and the guide. Guide's name could be Gunnar but could also be something else. I don't register any introduction. He's probably fluent in Icelandic and English but prefers not to speak either.
First we zigzag past some fjords to reach the starting point. Kayaks into water and off we go. Water is very clear with stones and Icelandic version of corals clearly visible. Bit more wind once we're out of the fjord but even I'm not scared. Sun reflects from the water, birds fly around and a seal sticks it's head out between two waves.
On Vigur there are a few houses, children on the beach and birds all over the place. We can use a friendly balcony for picnic and sunshine. It's getting really hot in the wet suit. Time seems to stand still. I could sit here for hours. Except for the suit.
Pretty soon we have to get back into the kayaks so that we wouldn't get stuck on the island and I wouldn't miss the boat. It's picking up wind. But we still have time to linger around in the fjord and admire the surroundings. Gunnar gets more talkative. He really seems to enjoy his job.
After soup and ice cream in Ísafjörður I walk to the boat. The rest of the gang are already there. Everyone has some agenda or special interest for gong to such an obscure place.
Mountains glow in the low sunlight as we sail out of Ísafjörður. It's windy before Hornstrandir and then calm again. A ghost is steering the boat. Have to get used to living in a cramped area which moves to unexpected directions.
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