ICELAND DAY 12 – SO MUCH LEFT TO DO

 

(readers note: The pictures follow the relevant paragraphs.  Be sure to read all the way to the end.  Click on any picture to see all the pictures in full size)

Sleep in, then head out to Covid testing, required within 72 hours prior to flying to the States.  The testing center is efficient, and an hour total is a small price to pay to be able to travel again.  Breakfast in downtown Reyjkavik at Grai Kotturinn, a hole in the wall named for the gray cat that used to hang around the building.  In Iceland there is a saying that if you hang around a place long enough you are like a grey cat, so the name is especially fitting as the tiny place is full of colorful local characters who look like they came with the real estate. 

Walking back, we see our favorite artist again, a woman about our age who makes jewelry which features lavastone beads.  The pieces are fun and funky and reflect the place, the best designs we’ve seen in any of the shops.  We connect instantly with the artist (Mandy has a knack for that) and spend quite a bit of time talking business, art, travel and the world in general.  We buy a bunch of pieces, a few for Mandy and some for gifts, and in reflection probably should have gotten more. 

Last night at dinner, we met a couple who went whale watching from the marina across from our hotel.  They spoke so highly of the trip that Mandy and I start talking.  We realized that neither of us had ever gone before.  It’s one of those excursions that are offered on so many trips, we have always, together or separately, just passed on.  When we were walking around the marina last night and saw the Amelia Rose, we booked from our phone immediately.  A 108 foot super yacht with a checkered past, so yea, we thought, this is the boat for us.  Amelia Rose was originally built by Mexican drug lord, who at one point had it seized that country’s government.  It was subsequently sold to a movie production company and featured in several films.  Refitted, it now serves as a floating platform for whale watching, Nothern Lights cruises, weddings and other fun events.  The main deck features a large bar/lounge with rich carved wood paneling and two big marble tiled bathrooms.  The second and third decks feature plenty of space for the passengers to keep an eye out for today’s prize, minke and humpback whales.  We get some great pictures Harpa, the iconic concery hall, of the city and nearby islands as we leave Reyjkavik’s Old Harbour.  It’s Icelandic summer, bright and sunny, 50F with a cold wind.  Out to sea, the vessel and her captain handle the 6-foot swells with aplomb.  Although the promo material states a “see rate” in the high 90 percent, our first hour yields no results.  These are the pros though, seasoned in finding the signs of whale activity (dolphins, diving flocks of gulls) and constantly in contact with the other whale watching boats.  We cheer when we see the first whale spray, which is quickly followed by the breaching of a big humpback.  We see a dozen more breaches, some just a few feet from our boat.  Our guide, a thirty something woman from New Zealand, identifies at least three separate animals.  On the way back, I overheard the guide quietly tell the first mate, a modern-day Viking if ever there was one, that this was one of best days she has had in Iceland.  Hmmm, us too. 

Back on dry land, we head out for an early dinner.  Messinn had been on our list, but we didn’t have reservations.  Only a few blocks from out hotel, we figured we’d give it a try.  It’s only 5pm, so the hostess shows us to a lovely table by the window overlooking the street.  Messinn is this city’s legendary seafood restaurant, know for their “fish pans”, local fish caught same day, cooked and served in the same pan.  Also, this is one of the few places that have Atlantic Wolffish on the menu, a local delicacy and perhaps one of the ugliest creatures in the ocean.  Mandy gets the Artic Char, having fallen in love with it this trip and I order the sea creature, both as pans.  The presentation is great, a well-used commercial sauté pan set on a wooden cutting board with our fish of choice. some potatoes and veggies added at the end.  Unfortunately, we have often been disappointed when we go to these famous legacy restaurants in new cities.  Fortunately, Messinn outstripped its own good press, serving us some of the best fish of our entire trip. 

We ate early because we had to change and be on the outskirts of town by 8:30pm.  We booked a midnight sun quad tour and we had been looking forward to it, especially as this was one of the sunniest day’s of our entire trip.  We get to Safari Quads already dressed warm, then put on what Mandy calls a Potato Suit, heavy zip-up coveralls with a warm furry lining.   There are about 25 of us, riding one- or two-up on 16 big Can-Am Outlander 450cc 4WD ATVs.  We leave the base and do about 2 miles on public roads until we get to the first trail head.  On the way I check “traffic circle, 40mph, on a quad” off my bucket list (I’m from Jersey, it’s a thing…)  For two weeks now we’ve been driving and hiking all across the country, but somehow this feels like a more intimate way to see the landscape.  The trails are well marked but very rough in spots, the riding a lot more technically challenging than I thought for a tour group.  The bikes are capable and well suited for the terrain.  It’s hard to talk to Mandy through our helmets, so I can’t judge if she’s enjoying it or not.  We get to the first stop, the top of a tall mountain and disembark for a break and a look.  When Mandy pulls her helmet off, her wide grin tells me what I need to know.  The sweeping views are stunning, panoramic with mountain backdrops in front of valley lakes, the big, late night sun to the west and the almost full moon in the northeast.   The next 45 minutes riding is even more fun, more challenging, more technical, and now that I know Mandy is having a good time, I’m more generous with the throttle.  The second stop is even more breathtaking, a higher vantage point from the top of the next mountain.  Clouds are starting to form, bringing dramatic rays and reflections, colors and shadows.  It’s our last night in Iceland and this is a remarkable place to spend it.  I only find out the next day that Mandy wept inside her helmet as we started back down the mountain. 

It's fully cloudy by the time we get back to the hotel, but the duller skys are no help.  We’re way too revved to sleep. 

ICELAND DAY 11 – FOODIES IN THE CAPITOL

 (readers note: The pictures follow the relevant paragraphs.  Be sure to read all the way to the end.  Click on any picture to see all the pictures in full size)

Breakfast at the hotel and on the road by 9.  We have a 5 hour long drive back to Reykjavik in the east.  Leaving Siglufjordur, the road first takes us north to the tip of the Troll Peninsula.  We stop at the northern most point, a small, unmarked pullover point on the side of the road next to the opening of the tunnel.  We get out and admire the views.  Sea, sky and the horizon showing the curve of the earth.  Beyond that, only the Arctic.  Breath.  Smile.  Kiss.  See.  Oh, and there’s the sun.  Thank god we’re not doing this drive in more rain.  Or more snow. 

There are a few stops we could make on the way, but only stop for necessary breaks as we prefer to have the afternoon in Reykjavik.  Instead of counting minutes or hours, we count in “units”, 15 minute blocks.  “Only 6 more units baby” when the GPS showed 1:30 remaining.  Just because the drive is long doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy the trip.  We spend our units noticing the changes in the landscapes as we head south and west.  Some look familiar and some new variations on a theme.  We talk about the things we’ve done, the places we’ve seen, the people we’ve met and the grace and civility demonstrated to us even among the harshest environments.  Down to 3 units when we hit the suburbs. We check into the Black Pearl, a nice hotel on the west side of downtown right across from the marina, about 10 blocks from our last hotel in town.  

We have much anticipated dinner reservations at 7, but we’re going to need a little sumptin sumptin to hold us over.  Perfect opportunity for an Icelandic hot dog.  The country’s answer to Philly’s famous cheesesteaks or Milwaukee’s legendary brats, Icelandic hot dogs are made mostly from the free-range, grass-fed, organic, happy lambs that we’ve seen in and on every open field, rock pile and roadway in the country.  Locals and tourists eat a LOT of these, ordering two and three at a time, so it’s a good thing that there are twice as many sheep here than people.  I’ve had a few at gas stations around the ring road, and they were good, but as dedicated foodies, we’re in search of the best.  Fortunately Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur is just around the corner.  Literally, the name translates to “best hot dog in town”, expectations are high, even more so since British newspaper The Guardian named this the best hot dog stand in all of Europe.  Like knowing how to order a cheesesteak (“Wiz Wit”, of course), you can’t be an amateur when it’s your turn at the window.  We get two “ein með öllu” (pronounced “eyen-meth-alt”, translation “with the works”), raw white onions, crispy fried onions, ketchup, sweet brown mustard called pylsusinnep, and remoulade, a sauce made with mayo, capers, mustard, and herbs (most of the toppings are served under the dog to make eating them easier).  The combination of the excellent raw ingredients and interesting toppings makes this one damn fine dog.

We spend the next hour or so wandering in and out of the shops.  Mandy’s favorites are the ceramic galleries and there are plenty of choices with colorful vases, bowls and other dimensional works.  The art galleries seem to have a connecting thread, the paintings, photographs and sculptures all influenced by the combined beauty and brutality of Iceland’s nature.  Legs effectively stretched after our long car ride, we nap in eager anticipation for…

Dinner at ÒX.  ÒX is a speakeasy-type restaurant concept by Iceland’s star chef Thráinn Freyr Vigfússon.  At just 11 seats gathered around the chef’s table, it is the most exclusive restaurant in the country, and we made our reservation almost a year ago (some people make the reservation first then plan the rest of their Iceland trip around it.)  The concept is this: create an intimate space based on the chef’s grandmother’s remote cabin, make the seating feel like you’re gathering with old friends, have the chef interact with the guests like he was cooking for them in his own home, and use only local provisions.  It’s an experience from before you get there.  Instead of the address of the restaurant, we were just given a meeting point, the bar at Sumac, a fine restaurant in its own right.  We get seated at the bar, order a drink and quickly realize that the others seated here will be our fellow diners tonight.  One couple at a time we’re escorted to our seats in the little space that is ÒX and wine is poured, the first of many carefully curated glasses we will have tonight.

We’re in for a 16 course tasting meal tonight based on whatever is available today, whether it be fresh-off-the-boat fish, local meats, or the preserved seasonal foods they put up themselves up to two years ago.  Each dish promises to be an updated take on an Icelandic classic, and no two nights are ever the same.  This is definitely an “event-dining” experience.  The chef gets the conversation going and encourages everyone to talk to him and to each other, and soon it sounds like Christmas with my family, several conversations happily going on at once.  All the while we watch as Chef prepares, then serves.  The first course, called simply crab + tomatoes (although there’s WAY more going on), is fresh, original and delicious and firmly sets the food-as-art vibe.  Although this course could easily be eaten in two bites, we all turn it into 6 or 8 as we make different combinations of the ingredients.  I could discuss every course in crazy detail, but this just ain’t that kind of blog, so I’ll just tell you about two other standouts.  The entrée is ribeye cap, seared then smoked in wooden boxes filled with fresh herbs.  The smell when the box came into the room was incredible.  When the lid was slid open the smoke gave way to three beautifully done steaks that the chef sliced down, plated and served with a few small sides.  The sides themselves were an event:  a deconstructed-reconstructed beet flourish, a dollop of smoked fermented garlic (the tiniest bit was a complete taste explosion), and a mashed rutabaga that were sprinkled with smoked, dried reindeer hearts that the chef grated right in front of us.  It’s safe to say that all 11 people at this table have had plenty of fine dining experience.  It is also safe to say that all 11 people at this table have done lots of adventurous dining.  It is also safe to say that the mention of smoked, dried reindeer hearts gave pause to all 11 of us.  Until we tasted it.

Dessert is four separate courses, served with wine and rich pour-over coffee.  Now that we’re all old friends, we say goodbye as such, taking an additional 30 minutes to clear the room through all the goodbyes, hugs and kisses.  Walking back out onto Laugavegur, we’re surprised to see how much the scene on the street has changed.  The quiet restaurants and bars that lined the streets have been turned into THUMPA-THUMPA clubs, and everyone’s hiking clothes have been replaced by tight minidresses and sharp, slim cut sports coats.  The energy is palpable and there are lines out of every door, balconies overflowing with revelers.  It’s Saturday night, it’s summer, it’s solstice, the sun is shining brightly at 11pm and Covid is effectively over here, so this is going to be one of the biggest party nights in years.  We’re past da-club scene, but the vibe still makes us happy as we head back to our hotel.

We get back to our hotel and wash up, but it’s just too nice out.  We put on jeans and sneakers and head back outside to explore the marina and bask in the midnight sun. 

ICELAND DAY 10 – MOST NORTH AND THE MIDNIGHT SUN

 

(readers note: The pictures follow the relevant paragraphs.  Be sure to read all the way to the end.  Click on any picture to see all the pictures in full size)

Our time at the farm done, we head to Siglufjordur, the northern most stop on our trip.  Time and geometry and are playing funny tricks on us now.  We’re nearing the solstice, so we expect the days to get longer.  But we’re way up on top of the globe, if it was a beach ball we’d be near that round disc of plastic where all the colors come together, so every mile we drive adds lots more sunlight.

Along the way, we stop at Godafoss, the final feature waterfall on our list.  We’ve come to find each waterfall’s personality, and this one is complex, a psych major with a math minor who plays roller derby on the weekends.  There’s a lot going on here.  The upper horseshoe shaped fall has five spouts, the left-most one fed by its own series of minor spouts.   A few yards downriver starts a series of craggy caves, a few small black sand “beach” areas and a minor tributary feeding in for good measure.  All of that dumps into a second fall, which quickly hangs a left, creates a huge cave/beach, slips under the highway bridge and heads on down the countryside.  We’ve seen so many waterfalls that we’re starting to overanalyze these things.  Still cool though.

It’s rare to go from town to town in rural Iceland without going over a mountain, but the final approach to Siglufjordur surprises us with a series of two long tunnels bored through the mountains, the longest being a full 7 kilometers long.  When we pop out of the last tube, we’re there, the Siglo Hotel, a favorite among Icelanders on holiday.  The hotel was built on the site of a long-closed fish processing plant that dominated the town’s economy in the 1930s and backs up to the remaining plant.  Our room is not ready so we wander the compact downtown.  We walk by an empty schoolyard and I spot one of the huge jumping toys that we have seen in virtually every playground in the country.  It’s a colorful bubble 25 feet on each side, coming right out of the ground, a cross between trampoline and bounce house.  No one is here so I finally get my turn, kick off my shoes and get to bouncing.  The video is more than a bit embarrassing, but hey, fun is fun. 

Lunch is a fully forgettable smorgasbord at a local hole in the wall, the place we wanted to go either temporarily or permanently closed due to Covid.  Back at the hotel we chill in the lounge and watch the working boats coming and going through the floor to ceiling windows.  The lounge is simple and elegant, 20’ x 30’, with tables, overstuffed chairs and couches set to make intimate spaces.  It’s the heart of the place, with groups gravitating to there for conversation and games.  Checked into our room, we are fascinated by a mid-sized fishing boat being unloaded.  Literally tons of fish come out of the belly of the ship, pallets of neatly stacked orange and yellow bins.  Then more tons come out.  And more.  When each pallet is unloaded the two men on the dock grab each big fish and throw them into 4 foot square sorting bins, separating them by breed.  Most of the fish are at least 3 feet long with the biggest we saw a full 5 feet.  We sit in out window box seat for a full hour watching the work.  We came here to relax, we just didn’t expect this was going to be how. 

We finally pull ourselves away and head to the pool.  If the lounge is the hotel’s heart, the pool is its soul.  It’s a long rectangular hot tub overlooking the hotel’s front lagoon and vintage wooden fishing boat, and can fit 20 people comfortably.  It also provides a view of the main entrance, so we watch people roll their suitcases in and show up at the pool 10 minutes later.  We soak until our fingers prune, then a little longer still.  We’ve been going hard, and now we’re in full relax mode.  “Wanna go back into town?”  “Nope, happy here.  Let’s be here.”  Nap it is.

Dinner right at the hotel, convenient not only because it is the best restaurant in town, but because we’re too lazy to put socks on.  We’re so far north, latitude 66.148 degrees, that time has fully warped and the sun will not dip below the horizon at all tonight.  I screenshot the weather forecast which shows Sunset 12:00am Sunrise 12:00am, but I think that’s just last lazy meteorology (unless the sun is actually lowest in the sky at midnight, quite possible this close to the solstice, and I am far too relaxed to Google it.)  By the time we finish dinner, the lounge and adjacent bar are nearly full, quiet, happy conversations almost exclusively in Icelandic.  “Drinks?”  “Naw. Pool?”  “Yup”.  We change into suits and bathrobes and pad through the busy bar past the well-dressed patrons for some late night sun worship.