Where You're Going and Where You Are

(Hyperborean Hopscotch 2017: Day Three)

The morning of August 17th I woke up surprised I wasn’t freezing. It was actually perfect, pretty cool but no numb toes. I bounced my mighty car Tormund back down the long Látrabjarg gravel road, up into the mountains, along the fjord coastline and out of the Westfjords region of Iceland.

Crossing a bridge southward across Gilsfjörður I caught a glimpse of two seals hauled out on some rocks in the water. Unlike the one at the cliffs, these were not too far away for photos. Unfortunately the bridge was very long, there were no pull-outs to stop, and I had other cars behind me. Too bad. I will just have to remember them.

I turned west onto Route 54 and the Snæfellsnes Peninsula. More dirt roads, but by then Tormund and I were veterans of these and took them on without worry. These were not nearly as bad as some we’d traveled thus far anyway.

Into Snæfellsnes

Our first stop was at an expansive, wicked lava field called Berserkjahraun. The story is that a pair of Berserkers were tricked and murdered here by a sly farmer, and from what I’ve read an archaeological excavation essentially proved the story true when it uncovered the bodies of two large men where they were supposedly buried. The rocks in the area are dark and mossy and ghoulish, a quality inherent in Iceland’s lava fields that makes obvious the fact that they’re haunted. On a map I was using, this field has two symbols indicating the presence of ghosts and trolls. I’m not sure if either exist, but I’m sure this is where they belong.

The Berserker's lava field.

Driving on by the town of Grundarfjörður I spotted “Church Mountain” and soon the falls nearby. This pair – Kirkjufell and Kirkjufellsfoss in Icelandic – is said to be one of the most photographed places in the country. I knew it primarily as the “mountain that looks like an arrowhead” in Game of Thrones.

Kirkjufellsfoss.

Onward from there into Snæfellsjökull National Park, the third of Iceland’s three formal National Parks I have visited. High, winding, oceanside roads led down to neat little towns, the largest of which is Ólafsvík (I think). 

As I rounded the end of the Peninsula and started south, the clouds around the giant mountain nearby began to breakup. On maps, this peninsula looks kind of like an arm outstretched with a fist at the end. The center of the fist is Snæfell, and draped overtop of that is Snæfellsjökull (literally, “snow-mountain-glacier”). It is here that Jules Verne chose as the point of entry for his Journey to the Center of the Earth. Some people believe aliens have made contact with Earth here. Ghosts, trolls, and fairies roam the mountainside. And the modern artist Eames Demetrios used it as a crossover point for his stories detailing the parallel universe Kcymaerxthaere. (He installs large stone sculptures with pieces of the story all over the planet, each place acting as a chapter in an “Interdimensional Hopscotch.” I meant to stop and see this one, but my handwritten directions were inadequate and I couldn’t find it.)

The stories abound.

After a stop at Arnarstapi to hike the rocky cliffs and marvel a natural bridge off the coast, I set off further south in the direction of Reykjavik.

The bridge.

About halfway between Snæfellsjökull and my destination, I came to Borgarnes. Remembering the promise I had made to myself two days prior, and realizing I had plenty of time, I pulled into the town and parked in front of the hostel where I’d stayed two years ago. Out on my feet again, I walked across the town (about 5 minutes) and crossed a bridge to a tiny island and the little pier there. Sitting on rocks and looking out into the water, I recalled how great it had felt to be here the first time, doing this very same thing three years ago, and how much better it felt now.

Ah, Borgarnes.

Iceland is the first country I’ve intentionally visited twice.*

On my last trip around the southern coast of the country, I knew there was a lot more I wanted to see, but didn’t really intend to return. However, the impulse slowly grew, first subconsciously then in the forefront of my mind, slowly, slowly, until almost spontaneously, suddenly, surprisingly, I purchased airfare and started mapping this journey.

It was a great choice, and as if to make that point as clear as possible, Iceland sent a message:

I arrived back in Reykjavik and found the City Hostel, where I also stayed a couple nights in 2014. It has a big campground on its property, and I quickly set up my tent in a village of seemingly hundreds of others. The guy at the front desk let me store food and other stuff I wouldn’t need over the next few days in their short term luggage storage room. 

Then I took a much needed hot shower. Relaxed, happy, but with wet hair on a cold night, I sat in the hostel’s kitchen and drank tea until I was drier and more prepared for another night in my tent. Conversation sparked between a couple from Wisconsin, a girl from Missouri, and I. We discussed our hiking plans for Iceland. The couple were leaving the following morning for the trek that I was to begin a few days later, and the Missourian had just returned from it. I lost track of time, but it got dark outside, and around midnight a short Scottish girl burst into the room with an announcement: “The northern lights are out!”  **

So it was that on the last day of the first chapter of this adventure, I stood with a group of ghostly fellow travelers from all over the world, staring up at the aurora borealis. The display wasn’t as bright or big as those I’d seen in Alaska, but it had a green hue and danced around a bit before fading away. One girl with an East Asian accent said, “God has answered my prayers.” I said, “He’s answered all of ours.” Then we dispersed. Everyone had places to be in the morning.

A pertinent thought from Robert M. Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance:

"You look at where you're going and where you are and it never makes any sense, but then you look back at where you've been and a pattern seems to emerge. And if you project forward from that pattern, then sometimes you can come up with something."

This was my second time in Iceland. I was leaving in the morning, but returning in a few days. After that, would I be back? A pattern was emerging.

And everyone always has somewhere to be in the morning.

*  The other two countries I've visited twice are Argentina and France:
1. The first time I went to Argentina was just because I had to catch a ship from Tierra del Fuego to Antarctica. The second time I intentionally went to Argentina and Chile to hike in Patagonia.
2. The first time I went to France was intentionally to Paris, although I immediately regretted visiting that city. The second time I randomly took a day trip from Geneva, Switzerland over the border to hike France’s Mont Salève (the mountain where Frankenstein’s monster escaped). 

** I did not add any aurora images because my iPhone is incapable of taking decent photos of it.