Trolls can't keep me from the Westfjords

The Westfjords: the best, and least frequented place in Iceland

Icelandic folklore has it that three relentless trolls nearly succeeded in severing the Westfjords from Iceland by digging away at the narrow strip that connects them. They worked tirelessly – so much so that they failed to notice the sun rising (sounding familiar to Hobbit fans?). They had only managed to create the island of Grímsey before the sun's rays turned them all to stone. Their figures still stand overlooking Grímsey.

The Grímsey Trolls - frozen solid...by the sun (that was for you, Morgan)

 

Less than one person per square kilometer live in the Westfjords, making it one of the least populated areas in the world. There are road signs that seem to indicate towns or cities, however, one finds out soon enough that these are generally signposts for single-family farmsteads. “Towns” you do come across often consist of no more than 30 people, and some of the bigger, a couple hundred. Life is slow, relaxed; landscape: breathtaking.

View from a hike

I'm thankful that the Grimsey trolls were not successful in their attempts to disconnect the Westfjords from Iceland, as they have fast become my favourite place to visit. This could be in part because it's basically the only place I've visited so far, but nevertheless, they are something special. I went for the first time in the first week of September with my roommate Jake, his grandparents, and a tour guide friend of their's, Bragi. We passed through the north of the Westfjords, weaving back and forth between fjord after fjord, since the highway goes along the coast almost the entire way. This makes for beautiful driving, but extremely long, and somewhat aggravating, as you can see around every corner where you will be in about an hour's time, after you've driven in and out of the inlet (aka: fjord). I like to liken it to really severe switchbacks.

Town of Borgarnes - one of the many seemingly unused churches.

On this trip, we ended up in Bolungarvik, one of the furthest west towns in Iceland. On a clear day, you can see Greenland. Here we visited a friend of Jake's grandparents, Inga, who basically she runs the town. When we arrived in Bolungarvik, we didn't know where Inga lived, so we asked a woman on the street if she happened to know who Inga was, and if so, where she lived. The woman replied: “Oh yes, Inga lives in such-and-such a house over there. What time is it? Yes, she should be awake by now.” Hilarious. Not only is the town small enough to know everybody, but they also seem to know each others' schedules.

Dinner of fish balls, potatoes, and skyrtarte in Bolungarvik. From left: Amma, Jake, Afi, Bragi, Inga

 

This last weekend, I had another opportunity to go to the Westfjords, although this was not the original plan. Friday morning I skipped my incredibly important Japanese cinema course to start on a hitchhiking adventure. The plan was to get to the North or South; I decided to leave my fate to the drivers who picked me up. It all started to go awry, however, when my bus driver, who was supposed to drop me off at Mount Esja (a good hike and pickup spot for hitchhikers) forgot to drop me off, so instead took me to the western town of Akranes. He suggested going to the Snæfellsnes peninsula, because “everything that Iceland has to offer can be seen on this peninsula”. Snæfellsnes it was.

Those who have hitchhiked before, please share your feelings on the following: I did not find it easy to stick out my thumb for the first time. To a certain extent, I was nervous as to who may pick me up, but mainly, I was embarrassed to ask for a free ride. I walked for almost an hour along a road before a generous old miner pulled over and asked me if I needed a ride. He drove me maybe just ten miles, but his kindness gave me the confidence to get on with it and stick out my thumb. The first car that saw me pulled over and picked me up: an Icelandic man and his father, on their way up north to take part in horse round-up event. They invited me to go along with them but I already had my heart set on Snæfellsnes peninsula

My hitchhiking buddies, the infamous Icelandic horse.

 

That night I made it to Stykkishólmur, a quaint town on the north coast of the peninsula. You know it's a sleepy town when you arrive at 8pm, and the only thing you can hear is a baby crying on the opposite side of town. There were virtually no lights, nothing was open, and I had to call the hostel to have someone let me in. It was here that I met two Swiss guys, Noah and Stefan, who had spent the last three weeks driving, camping, and hiking around Iceland. They, like me, wanted to take a ferry to the small island of Flatey off the coast of Snæfellsnes, but when I told them it wasn't possible until Sunday, they invited me – in the meantime - to accompany them to the South of the Westfjords and catch the ferry to Flatey from the opposite side. So we did this, but to our great disappointment, found out once we got to the quiet town of Brjanslækur in the Westfjords that ferries do not run from there at this time of year. By this point, I was way too deeply in no-man's-land to leave them and hope to get back to Snæfellsnes, so once again, I found myself in my beloved Westfjords, and heading North again. This time, however, I was coming from the south, rather than the north, allowing me to see different landscapes. 

Noah and Stefan. Breakfast in Ísafjörður.

Ísafjörður

 

We arrived in Ísafjörður that night, and it was the guys' plan to head out in the morning, but as I wasn't ready to jump in the jeep again so soon, I stayed behind and spent the next few days getting better acquainted with my new favourite city. I and hiked and hiked, and almost died doing it. I have never thought so much about my loved ones and the important things in life as I did while overlooking huge precipices, holding on to dear life to crumbling rock faces as the rushing wind threatened to push me over. Despite the terror I often felt, I found myself smiling and laughing to myself at some of the scariest moments.

Waterfalls are a VERY common sight in Iceland

I hiked up this crater overlooking Ísafjörður, then went up to the top. It was very steep and, I'm pretty sure, not meant to be climbed.

Me standing in the crater, overlooking Ísafjörður and the ocean. Because it's autumn now, the colours are vibrant.

Q: What do you do when you're lost in an Icelandic forest? A: Stand up.

This is probably the scariest hike I've ever done.

All you need to know about Iceland

I've been here three weeks now, which I think is sufficient to make me an expert on all things Icelandic, including history, culture, geography, people, food, and politics. Ask me anything. But maybe I can beat you to the  punch with this blog post.


History: 


Iceland was first settled between 870-874 AD by Norwegian Vikings, making Iceland the most recently inhabited country. There is evidence of Irish monks living in Iceland for possibly a century or two before this, however, it is inconclusive.
Whatever the exact case, do not be like my American classmate who told me the other day that she met an Indigenous Icelandic woman. I questioned: "Indigenous? By which you mean: fully Icelandic...Viking? Light hair and eyes?" "No," she responded earnestly, "She had dark hair, eyes, and skin."
"Iceland doesn't have indigenous people. The Vikings were the first ones here." I said a bit confusedly.
"No, no," she replied more insistently than ever, "she was definitely indigenous - you know, like Native Americans, only Native Icelanders. 

I found out later that this "Native Icelander" is Chilean.


That's enough history for now.

Statue of the first Norwegian to discover Iceland, Leifur Eiriksson, outside of Hallgrimskirkja

 

 

 

 

Culture: 


Culture seems to be more definable here than in other countries. My anthropology professor tells me that Icelandic culture is Vikings, Sagas, beer, Haldor Laxness, whales, sheep, horses, hiking, farming, the language, video games, Bjork, Sigur Ros.

Me taking part - rather enthusiastically - in a cultural event: a Rettir (sheep herding)

Geography:


Volcanoes, glaciers, geysers (Iceland boasts two of the five geysers worldwide), hot springs, flat mountains, waterfalls, fjords, little to no forestry or vegetation.

Fjord in the Westfjords

Famous volcanic eruption from Eyjafjallajokull

 

 

Also taking part in the rettir - actually herding sheep, not just posing.

People:

As you all hoped and expected, this is what Icelanders look like:
 













 Food and drink:

Chocolate covered black licorice, skyr (super-thick yoghurt), skyrtarte (Iceland's version of cheesecake), several thicknesses of milk, beer, puffin, whale, fermented shark, fish, potatoes, hotdogs, shriveled vegetables.

Monsters. Who could eat such a creature?

Politics:


Iceland's economic crash, beginning in 2008, has led the Icelandic people to resort to rather desperate political measures. An actor/comedian, named Jon Gnarr created a fake party called: "The Best Party". He was voted into office, and is now the mayor of Reykjavik. I strongly encourage you to check out this link and watch his inspirational campaign video (make sure to watch till the end):


http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/iceland/7804777/Icelandic-comedian-to-become-Reykjaviks-mayor.html



According to multiple sources, the government is corrupt, but nobody protests. The only recorded revolution to have occurred in Iceland is threateningly titled: the "Pots and Pans Revolution" or the "Kitchenware Revolution". Icelanders showed their discontent with the government after the 2008 crash by banging pots and pans outside Parliament for three days. They even threw skyr (the thick yoghurt) and snowballs at the building. Madness.

Mayor, Jon Gnarr

I hope this has been educational.