Midget Lake - Part 4

Click here for Part 1.
The highlight of the day would be Mývatn - Midges Lake. Midges are like European mosquitoes. On the first day of touring, Lena, when faced with a swarm of annoying black bugs declared, "This place is crawling with midgets!" Fortunately, there were no Little People about to be offended.
First stop, Dettifoss -- Europe's most powerful waterfall. Ariel and I went right to the edge, testing our trust in our marriage.

This little pink flower we would see everywhere. It seemed to be one of the first or only things that would grow in barren conditions like rock or a lava field.
In the Krafla area, we first stopped by a geothermal power plant, then to Námafjall with its boiling mudpots and fumaroles. The sulphur here was intense as you can tell by Lena's expression. I made Lena walk around with me despite her protestations, and she would repay me later by refilling my water-bottle with potable but disgustingly sulphurous water from a campground faucet. (This was by accident, but it was completely undrinkable and funny.)
After lunch, we hiked around a lava field, and then went to relax in a natural bath which was nice except for two things: 1) it was full of the same minerals that spewed out of Námafjall, so it stunk and made one's hair gross, 2) being all European and all, one had to shower nude in a communal way. So at this point in the trip, all of us women in our group became much more intimately acquainted. Of course, the rest were all European, so I doubt they had the same prudish modesty that I brought to the equation, but I was consoled by the fact that, with the exception of our good-looking group, I looked vastly better naked than most everyone else in that shower-room that day. (Double feature: I'm not only prudish, I'm also exceptionally vain.)
Mývatn marked the place where the sun finally came out, and like with Noah, we were given a lovely rainbow to mark a promise of good weather from here on out.

Slavonian Grebe: Podiceps auritus
Lovely weeds.

The brown-headed twitcher.
It was hay-making time in Iceland, and our guide, the wonderful Gyða, referred to the white-wrapped bales as marshmallows. We needed a photo for a size reference, and this is what we got. Livia remained on the bus for most of the afternoon. Like her father, she sleeps whenever the opportunity presents itself, and then still goes to sleep at a reasonable time in the evening. This was the last day we let her sleep through things.
We stayed the night in a fantastic farmhouse, and when we went out exploring that night, the owner's dog came along with us. For over a year now, I have wanted an Icelandic sheepdog, and this was the first time that we saw one on the trip. He was the most fantastic dog (as all the Íslenskur fjárhundur are). Even Ariel liked him. The girls referred to him as "Mommy's Dog."

Turfed Roof of the World - Part 3

Click here for Part 1.
We started this day at a HUGE turf-roofed farmhouse. It was by far one of the coolest things we saw. And it was free because it was Sunday. The clever little thing was that the rooms were very warm and dry, and they had tiny dormer windows, so they were actually quite cozy and charming. Livia looks like a wax figure below.

Above was this glorious view (ruined by a bus shot) of the valley as we came through the Öxnadalsheiði mountain pass, on the way to Akureyri.
Akureyri has this odd cafe in the pedestrian area which was vastly more pleasing to the eye than the big church for which it is famous. The rest of this town (second largest city in Iceland) was functional and disappointing like much of Iceland's architecture. The town sits deep within Eyjafjörður, the fjord shown below.
Húsavík is a quaint little harbour village from which many whale-watching tours depart. As a result, there was a very good whale museum -- just down the street from the Icelandic Phallological Museum. As the girls were accompanying us, Ariel and I were unable to visit. Now that we're home, I'm a bit disappointed we didn't get to see it as I have since learned that said museum has 245 penis specimens in various forms of preservation. This quote from the Wikipedia is my fave: "Although the museum does not yet have a Homo sapiens specimen, in the interest of advancing phallological knowledge, a patron (Páll Arason, born in 1915 and currently 93 years old) has donated, presumably posthumously, an affidavit for his penis."
They also had a lovely church.
I took this photo for the colors on the mountainside, but I can't tell you from where. Somewhere between Húsavík and Tjörnes, I think. Notice the trees in the foreground.
Can't see it here, but Lena is standing on a beach on the Tjörnes peninsula. Trees don't really grow in Iceland, and when they do grow, they don't get very tall. All of the lumber in Iceland is imported from Norway now, but before that, it was imported from Siberia via Mother Nature. Driftwood travels down the rivers of Siberia to the sea where the ocean currents carry it to the North Pole. There it gets encased in the ice flows and circles around until it gets caught by the East Greenland stream and eventually -- 4-5 years later -- is washed onto the North coast of Iceland, to such an extent that in some places the beaches are white with giant driftwood logs.

Occasionally, the same East Greenland Stream brings polar bears on ice flows to northern Iceland, about 2 every year. Since polar bears are not native to Iceland and don't make very good tourists, the Icelanders shoot them on sight. Various polar bear-friendly groups get very upset by this, but since the bears have been known to kill people when they arrive, the Icelanders just thumb their noses at these groups and maintain their Only-Good-Polar-Bear-is-a-Dead-Polar-Bear policy.
Finally we ended the day by visiting a horseshoe-shaped canyon. Between the cliff birds and the acoustics, it was lovely, like my contemplative Livia.

Rainland - Part 2

Click here for Part 1
So, the day before, it was a bit rainy, off and on. That evening, when we were scheduled to have a midnight snowmobile tour on the glacier, it was raining quite a bit, so much so that the dude who was hired to drive us up to the glacier actually advised us not to go, at a monetary loss to himself. This day we woke up to weather not much better. We drove over the top of the peninsula and dipped our way into every little grey fjord we encountered, finally stopping in Stykkishólmur, a little fishing village. The big rock pictured above is Stykkið, which is Icelandic for "chunk" as in "chunk of rock." The town's visual appeal was small and made less by the weather, so this is all you're going to see of Stykkishólmur.
Next we stopped by Eiríksstaðir -- literally, "Eric's farm"-- as in, Eric the Red. They had this groovy fellow there, dressed as a Viking and cracking jokes about stealing our women. He was fun and funny and quite informative. Ariel was chosen to be our Viking leader, dressed in a wolf fur, and the girls were quite proud of him.

The benches upon which we sat had hides thrown over them, and when we were about to leave, Livia asked me what mine was. I looked down and (excitedly therefore stupidly) blurted out, "Ooh, it's seal!" Livia's bottom lip immediately pooked out, and the tears began to form (Livia is a seal fanatic). I tried to console her that the seal probably didn't die in vain, that the Vikings most likely ate it, but this made things worse. Seal fur is very exotic, though. Later, we stopped for lunch and in a side office, through an open door, Ariel spotted a whole seal, all stuffed. We warned a few people not to mention it to Livia, but when our guide Gyða saw it, she called Livia over to see as well. However, Livia was at that time eating ice cream, so she didn't care so much about the dead and stuffed seal. Priorities.


That night we went on a horseback-riding trip. None of us in our whole group but one young lady had ever even sat upon a horse (me being led around on Sassy the half-blind mare when I was little doesn't count). Fortunately, the guides were well used to this, and the horses (Icelandic, remember) were gentle and patient. We all had a lovely time if you don't count the fact that I felt like my hips had been pulled out of joint. The girls now have horsey fever.

Icy Summer Holiday - Part 1

I have taken about 1500 pictures of Iceland, and though I know that some of you are groaning at the idea that I'm going to blog our trip in parts, get over it. I plan on showcasing photos.
Flying in, the sky was clear, so we could see the amazing Martian landscape below us. It wasn't too different as we took the bus to our hotel where Tracey, my mother-in-law, was waiting for us. Along the highway, they had these crazy cairns that looked like giants, adding to the Martian mystique.
My mother-in-law is a twitcher (bird-watching fanatic), and I obliged her wacky hobby by occasionally taking photos of birds. Yes, this is a common mallard (Anas platyrhynchos), but in the endlessly setting sun at the Arctic circle, this little boy looked purple-headed.
Black-headed Gull: Larus ridibundus
Lesser black-backed Gull: Larus fuscus
Crazy-haired Monkey: Lena bambina
The next day (the first day of our tour), we five climbed into a 4x4 bus with 12 other people (and a guide and driver), and headed towards the Snæfellsnes Peninsula with a slight detour inland to visit Þingvellir (Thingvellir - "assembly meadows") where in 930, the Icelanders formed their parliament. Today, very little remains, but the valley is marked by a continental fault. One on side of the fault is Europe and on the other is North America.

The first really dramatic site we observed was Barnafoss (technically, Barnafossar, since there are plural falls). The lower falls seem to come out of nowhere as the water pours out of the lava field (above). Further up the river there is a deep canyon where the river flows swift and white and scary.


Cotton grass: Eriophorum angustifolium

Next we stopped at Deildartunguhver, a high-flowing hot-spring. I was able to take only a few pictures before my lens fogged up. L&L came back soaked from the steam condensing in their hair.
The Icelandic horse is a pure breed, brought from Norway by the Vikings in the mid-800's. It is legally impossible to import a horse to Iceland, including an expat Iceland horse, so as to keep the breed pure, and this breed purity has been maintained since the Middle Ages. Though it is a small breed, it is highly insulting the the Icelanders to call them ponies (as my children can well tell you).

At the end of the Snæfellsnes Penninsula is Snæfellsjökull -- our first glacier of the trip. The glacier (though tiny) is supposed to have magical healing properties on both sides of the religious divide. The more Pagan type have their prominent ley lines, while the Catholics (of which there are now few) have a spring, blessed for healing at the behest of the Virgin Mary as she hovered in the air, flanked by three angels. The spring comes down near the town of Hellnar (as do the ley lines) where we stopped to take photos in the rain and look for birds.
(Notice I'm not very consistent with my labeling/watermarking. I'm figuring out what I like right now.)
Not far down the coast was the secluded beach of Djúpalónssandur, where a British ship had run aground, and its rusty bits still littered the volcanic sand. The fishermen used to park their fishing boats there, and in the little canyon was their old test of strength. Ariel was able to lift the #2 weight -- just enough to be an oarsman.

As is true in any country that is rocky and frequently snowy, there were cairns everywhere, even on the beach. Livia contributed as she could. I really liked the look of the smooth stones stacked so neatly that we found there.

Dark Satanic Mills

We're all packed out, school is over, and we're about to leave for our pre-departure departure (on holiday).

Lena had a lovely Leavers Service at the little church neighboring the school. Between the baptistry and the candelabras in the way and the low lighting, I wasn't able to take any good pictures, but it was a beautiful service filled with prayers, hymns, and the scripture readings. And in true form, Lena many rows ahead of me (I was in the very back) could be heard singing over the rest of everyone. When we finished with "Jerusalem," I was a bucket of tears.

Last minute cultural note: "Jerusalem" is England's national hymn, based on a poem by William Blake. It is, oddly enough, based around the idea that Jesus came and visited England. Here go the words:

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among those dark satanic mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

"Those dark satanic mills" makes me think of how one of the hymns (which I didn't know) actually used the word "hobgoblin". It was too funny. Our hymns just aren't Lord-of-the-Rings enough.

Lena won the Religious Studies award.
Sheep escaped to the tennis courts.
And as we were packing to leave last week, I found this old photo of the girls. It's hard to believe that they used to be that cute.

Sitting on a Cardboard Box

No, I'm not really sitting on a cardboard box. Our computer room is a safe-room today -- won't be packed until other rooms have been completely cleared so we have a place to move modem, routers, etc to when it's time to pack the desk. So, not only am I sitting in a chair, I am getting to use Frank the Monster Machine until probably tomorrow when it gets packed. (Frank has the best RAM in the house. Perfect for crunching pictures.)

Anyhow, today is Day 2 of the pack-out. Yesterday, we scrambled to have everything ready and organized by 9:00, and at 10:30, the movers rolled in. Then they worked (steadily and well, I must say) for the next 5 hours before they popped a head in this room (where Ariel and I are hanging out of the way) and said, "Okay. The truck is full, so we're going to call it a day." "?!?!" we said. The truck is that tiny little thing above. Our stuff is packed on location into these wooden freighter crates, nailed closed, and at the end of the day, the movers take it down to the depot where the crates go into a freighter box. So, though the day of packing seems short to us, they work a full 8 hours in driving and loading. I hope. This is going to take the whole week because of that short truck.

This morning, about 5 minutes before the actual movers came, Air Force Housing brought by our temporary furniture. So we happily informed the movers to pack up the bedrooms (which they had spared so we'd have a place to sleep). 20 minutes after this, the housing people came by with The Kit -- the non-furniture things like sheets, towels, basic kitchen stuff. It was then that the lady said, "There's just you for just this week, right?" Um, no. There are 4 of us. For the next month. Her eyes went wide and she realized that somewhere, our housing orders had been mixed up. So we also didn't have enough furniture for 4 -- no beds for the girls. Hopefully this will be sorted before the day is out.

What little furniture we have is all stacked in the dining room -- our only empty room.

This all seems very final.