A bed. With blanket and pillow and sheets.
Boots are almost dry. I thought that they would not be dry before Christmas.
It looks rather hopeless in the room when I wake up. Floor and the other bed covered with everything that was in the bag. But as soon as sleeping bag, matress and tent are put away situation starts to appear a lot better. Finish packing on time. Breakfast with decent people. Try to behave. The house looks very nice with it's wooden walls and old photos.
Valdimar, the transport to airport, takes his time. No panic though. It only takes about 3 minutes to drive to the airport. And there's still enough time to read about Heydalur from a travel magazine, watch the plane land, the captain coming out and inspecting the wings and propellers and luggage ferried in. A good aereal view of Ísafjörður, sailing boats clearly visible in the harbour. I'll be passing through here again in a few days. Most probably on the 5th.
We fly through strangely beautiful landscape of the clouds, random rays of sun piercing through, mixed with grey-blue mountaintops. So here they are, the mountaintops. Before landing charred land, totally incomprehensible.
Taxi to the bus station. Taxi driver is thrilled to find an Icelandic-speaking tourist and has trouble believing that I don't actually live in Ísafjörður. And flybus to Keflavík.
I've got a song. Sweet.
At Keflavík I meet Jón. He's going to give me his car for the next eleven days. First I drive him home. A cup of coffee while doing paper work. Meet a dog and Jon's wife who struggles a bit with English words and to make her life easier I let them know that I actually know these words also in Icelandic. Switch to another language. Very easy to impress people here.
Off I go with a white Hyundai Tucson, back towards Westfjords. GPS stubbornly directs me towards Stykkishólmur ferry and I stubbornly ignore it. Crazy landscape, waterfalls in canyons, weird-shaped mountains, sheep by the road. Cloud artwork above all that. Radio sings 'góða ferð, já, vertu sæl, góða ferð'. And people phone in to predict the outcome of Iceland's next football match.
A sandwich for lunch in a gas station and dinner in a hotel in Flókalundur.
Paintings in the sky get more and more artistic. Sea changes colours from grey to emerald.
In the beginning of the night I'm at Brei'avík campsite. A new experience. Possible to use toilet, shower, washing machine, coffee and internet. Everybody is watching football.
It looks rather hopeless in the room when I wake up. Floor and the other bed covered with everything that was in the bag. But as soon as sleeping bag, matress and tent are put away situation starts to appear a lot better. Finish packing on time. Breakfast with decent people. Try to behave. The house looks very nice with it's wooden walls and old photos.
Valdimar, the transport to airport, takes his time. No panic though. It only takes about 3 minutes to drive to the airport. And there's still enough time to read about Heydalur from a travel magazine, watch the plane land, the captain coming out and inspecting the wings and propellers and luggage ferried in. A good aereal view of Ísafjörður, sailing boats clearly visible in the harbour. I'll be passing through here again in a few days. Most probably on the 5th.
We fly through strangely beautiful landscape of the clouds, random rays of sun piercing through, mixed with grey-blue mountaintops. So here they are, the mountaintops. Before landing charred land, totally incomprehensible.
Taxi to the bus station. Taxi driver is thrilled to find an Icelandic-speaking tourist and has trouble believing that I don't actually live in Ísafjörður. And flybus to Keflavík.
I've got a song. Sweet.
At Keflavík I meet Jón. He's going to give me his car for the next eleven days. First I drive him home. A cup of coffee while doing paper work. Meet a dog and Jon's wife who struggles a bit with English words and to make her life easier I let them know that I actually know these words also in Icelandic. Switch to another language. Very easy to impress people here.
Off I go with a white Hyundai Tucson, back towards Westfjords. GPS stubbornly directs me towards Stykkishólmur ferry and I stubbornly ignore it. Crazy landscape, waterfalls in canyons, weird-shaped mountains, sheep by the road. Cloud artwork above all that. Radio sings 'góða ferð, já, vertu sæl, góða ferð'. And people phone in to predict the outcome of Iceland's next football match.
A sandwich for lunch in a gas station and dinner in a hotel in Flókalundur.
Paintings in the sky get more and more artistic. Sea changes colours from grey to emerald.
In the beginning of the night I'm at Brei'avík campsite. A new experience. Possible to use toilet, shower, washing machine, coffee and internet. Everybody is watching football.
Add a comment