We had thought perhaps to bypass the Westfjords, in favor of the Snaefellsnes Peninsula, as our time in this magical island began to run short. But as we cruised past the Trollskagi peninsula, Kathleen prevailed upon me to see the part of Iceland that few people actually see, all in the hopes of viewing Iceland's only native land mammal: the arctic fox. Wild, remote, sparsely populated and accessed mostly by dirt road (with precious few exceptions), it makes you wonder, while basking in the summer sun as we did, how anyone could possibly survive here in winter. The answer from locals was that they just hole up and wait it out. You have to be amazingly independent to do that, kind of like the people who came here in the first place, so I think, of all the words that describe it, authentic might be best. It just has the feel of rugged individualism that is and always has been the soul of Iceland. We are glad we went.
I think this was the only paved road we found in all of the Westfjords, but what a location for it.
Most of the roads looked like this one -- dirt, and kinda steep, with lots of turns. Did I mention we were driving a mobile home, and that the scenery is very distracting? No worries, right?
I mean, just look at that -- how do you keep your eyes on the road? Somehow, we escaped unscathed, but how that happened remains a mystery to this day.
I think as much as any of them, this picture gives you the sense of how sparse the population is here. We did not see one other tourist car during our sojourn around the Westfjords, and you have to wonder at how exposed to the elements these folks must be, and marvel at how self-reliant they have to be to manage so far away from everything.
Our destination on this mad dash through the Westfjords was Sudavik, and the Arctic Fox Center, where there were two orphan arctic foxes waiting to greet us. Much to the boys pleasure, it turns out they like to eat flowers, which were growing abundantly outside the pen. Unfortunately, they were in the middle of shedding their winter coats, so they looked quite scruffy.
It would be fun to see them in winter, with their white coats on full display, but I have no idea how you would get here at that time of year.
They were playful and extremely active, with the older brother constantly beating up on the younger one -- welcome to sibling rivalry, fox style, boys.
After touring the informative museum and grabbing a bite to eat, we headed through a really long tunnel, only to zig and zag in and out of several very long fjords. This felt like the most remote place we had been since backpacking in Denali so many years ago. The scenery was amazing.
This picture does not even begin to capture how small that house looked against that cliff of a mountain.
One of the many fjords we traversed.
Besides Isafjordur, which we only visited briefly, this was the largest gathering of buildings we found in the whole Westfjords.
Finally, we made a long climb up over one of the peninsulas, on a winding dirt road, and came down into Dynjandivogur bay (below) and the beautiful Dynjandifoss, the largest waterfall in the Westfjords.
The kids were in their element, scrambling up the multi-tiered cascade in a warm afternoon sun.
I think I was able to capture a rainbow at almost every waterfall we visited in Iceland, give or take one or two. Below, Alden becoming a leprechaun as he basks in the mist at the end of the rainbow.
Not a bad spot for a quick family photo. Below, photos of fun and beautiful Dynjandifoss.
The day was getting late, and we had a lot of ground to cover, and only two full days left in Iceland. We bolted for Flokalundur, where we planned to camp, and with luck take a ferry in the morning to Stykkisholmur on our final destination, the famous Snuffleupagus (Snaefellsnes, actually pronounced snayfetlesnais -- really) Peninsula, home to the Secret Life of Walter Mitty. At one in the morning, near summer solstice, here is what it looks like from across Briedafjorder:
We were so excited.
Well, we didn't take the Ferry the next morning, because it left so late, and made the ill-advised (on my advice, which my wife thinks is almost always ill, anyway) decision to make the loooooong schlep to Stykkisholmur by land.
We arrived at its beautiful harbor in time for lunch, and headed out to see the sights.
It looked really promising, an otherworldly land for the taking, but it was not to be. Shortly after the picture above, the storm below blew in, and when I say blow, I mean it. We tried to persist, but within a mile, a gust had lifted two of our mobile homes four wheels off the ground. The short drive back to the campground was the most white-knuckled driving I have ever done, as we were blown all over the very narrow road. We got to the campground, turned the mobile home into the wind, and hunkered down for what proved to be a very serious storm. It batted the mobile home back and forth like a ping-pong ball all night long, and gave me renewed appreciation for how tough Icelanders are, and how raw and powerful mother nature can be.
We got one break in the storm the following day, and made a bee-line for Reykjavik, stopping only to get lunch in Borgarnes, below.
By the time we hit Reykjavik, the storm and fully moved in, and we had overcast skies and rain as we visited the only site in Reykjavik that we really took time to visit -- the Hallgrimskirkja cathederal.
From there, it was a fish and chips lunch and off to the Airport to return the mobile home (which someone sideswiped in Reykjavik while we were parked for eating -- thank goodness for full insurance!).
So there you have it, our trip to Iceland. I think all of us would go back in a heartbeat, there is still a lot to see!
