Iceland
Chapter three
Vestrahorn to Vik.
May 18.
Vestrahorn.
I was eager to get started and drove immediately to Vestrahorn, a mountain rising out of a black sand beach on the eastern tip of Iceland. It’s the furthest east I would go; there was a basalt canyon I wanted to visit to the north, but I hadn’t the time.
I followed the ring road and turned down a dirt road on the Stokknes penninsula, questioning whether I was on the right path until I reached a small cafe at a fork in the road. I parked and purchased a ticket to drive down the access road along the beach. I declined to visit the nearby “Viking village” that had been built as part of a set that was never used for its intended film.
The sand was incredibly fine and soft and the grass along the dunes glowed in the morning light. I could have spent the entire day watching the tides come in and out and the play of light across the dunes.
Checking my phone I saw a notification from Óx, a restaurant I had read about when I had researched places to eat in Reykjavík. Chef Thrainn Freyr Vigfusson’s 11-seat restaurant had only one seating a night and was completely booked when I had looked for a reservation. But I had put myself on the waiting list for each night I would be in Reykjavik and crossed my fingers.
I excitedly ran back to the car in search of better internet access. On the beach, it was spotty at best. I struggled with one bar of 3G as I clicked the button to make a reservation. I waited for what seemed like forever before the page loaded. I entered my information and held my breath after hiting “send;” I didn’t let it out until I saw the confirmation screen.
Back to Vik.
Retracing my steps, I drove up the dirt road and back to the ring road. In Höfn, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a yogurt and croissants for breakfast. I ate in the parking lot before heading west towards Vik, stopping whenever something caught my eye.
Diamond beach.
Back at the Jökulsárlón glacial lagoon I cross the ring road to walk along diamond beach. As pieces of ice break off of the glacier into the lagoon and drift out to the ocean, the waves push them back up onto the volcanic beach that spans either side of the inlet. The bright clear ice sparkles in the sun, in stark contrast to the bed of black sand upon which they rest.
Jökulsárlón glacial lagoon.
I drove back across the single-lane bridge and parked in the official lagoon parking lot. The day before I had come from the other side and hadn’t realized that a formal lot existed. A few cars had parked there and I saw a small group board a dinghy for a ride around the lagoon. I asked about pricing and thought about it, but decided in the end to pass.
I walked along the shore conterclockwise. Yukwah told me that I could reach the glacier, but it was a few hours walk in either direction, and I hadn’t the time.
As I looked out into the lagoon, I could see seals lying on blocks of ice out in the water, their dark forms like shadows resting on the ice.
Back in the car, I continued driving west. As I drove, the skies changed and a light rain began to fall. It was as if I had crossed an unknown divide that kept the weather at bay on one end of the island, and unleashed it on another.
Hofskirkja.
Nearing Hof, I turned off the main road to visit the last turf church built in Iceland. It seemed to emerge out of the ground like a dwelling one might find in The Lord of the Rings. The church itself was closed, but the grounds were open and I walked through the cemetery and around the building, peering through the windows to get a look inside.
Fjaðrárgljúfur Canyon.
After another hour or so’s drive, I stopped by Fjaðrárgljúfur canyon, following a narrow dirt road to a small lot that gave access to a path that runs alongside the canyon. Made overly famous by Justin Beiber, who shot the video for I’ll Show You, the government barred access to the canyon in 2019 because the number of tourists were starting to have an adverse affect on the landscape.
When I arrived, there were but three other cars in the lot. I passed a few small groups and couples as I walked the canyon; by the time I was leaving I practically had the canyon to myself. I had downloaded Purpose and Justice, and found myself listening to the albums for the rest of the day.
Vik and the Reynisfjara black sand beach.
I checked into my guesthouse and checked the time. The sun set so late that I decided to see if I could fit in one last excursion before dinner. Dyrhólaey and the Reynisfjara black sand beach were not far from town and I decided to make the short drive over.
It was too late for Dyrhólaey and so I made my way to the black sand beach. Basalt columns rose from one end of the beach, curving around the rock to reveal a cave on the other side. As I took photos, a couple asked if I could take theirs and I happily obliged.
As we walked along the beach I learned that they lived in East Lyme, Connecticut, my home town. They had moved five years ago so that she could work at Lawrence and Memorial Hospital in New London. They had just been engaged and he was moving up from New Jersey to live with her. I congratulated them and told them that I hoped the photos I had taken would make it into the wedding slideshow.
Back in Vik.
Back in Vik, I drove up to the church overlooking the town. I could see it from the window in my guesthouse and wanted to see the town from its vantage point. A camper van was parked in the lot, and the occupants were busy cooking their dinner on a small gas grill. The entire village was laid out before us, the houses clustered together in the shadow of the cliffs to the west, a strip of black sand separating the town from the sea.
I took a moment to admire the setting before getting back in my car and driving down the small hill to dinner. It had been a long day of driving and hiking and I was happy to be able to sit down to a nice hot meal. 🇮🇸
