As the young rescuers drove away, complete silence enveloped me. There was no one in sight. This was different from being alone in Mosfellsbær or Grundarhverfi. Now I was alone in the middle of nowhere. I had officially just crossed over into the West Fjords. Here's where I was really worried about. Would I be walking for hours, passed up by the few vehicles that happened to be passing through this god-knows-how-deserted stretch of road? The scenery was gorgeous. The weather was perfect. All that could be heard were the call of birds and the wind. This is the way I've wanted to see Iceland since the beginning: up close, my feet on the ground, and at a pace to see and appreciate every detail and nuance. I was thrilled beyond words to be there at that moment.

Views north of Búðardalur

The friendly lamb

On my own in the West Fjords

Much to my relief a van pulled over sometime before I hit the one-hour mark. I was pleasantly surprised when they told me they were headed for Látrabjarg, which was exactly where I was headed! My plan was to make it to Brjánslækur by Monday, where a bus travels to Látrabjarg. If I could get to Látrabjarg that night I'd be basically two whole days ahead of schedule. Seems my good luck was holding out. Unlike all my other rides up to this point, though, these weren't Icelanders. These were two German tourists. One of my first thoughts was that Germans were accustomed to driving fast (whiz-bang auto engineering, the Autobahn, all that shit) and Icelandic roads are not to be sped upon, particularly the smaller, gravel roads, of which more than half of this stretch comprised. Trying to remain rational, I swallowed back the hint of a lump in my throat. After I learned that they'd come all the way from Seyðisfjörður (on the opposite end of the country), I reasoned that they'd probably become sufficiently acquainted with the peculiarities of driving on Icelandic roads by that point. They proved to be very safe indeed. We carefully picked our way along a stretch of road I was particularly concerned about getting a ride on as it seemed to be devoid of anything in the way of civilization. I was relieved to be able to put it behind me, although, given the time, I'd love nothing more than to explore it thoroughly. Lots of interesting, uninhabited fjords.

Near Bjarkarlundur. Vaðalfjöll poking up in the background.

We get out on one of the mountain passes and have a look around

Various sights along the southern portion of the West Fjords

It seems they had it in mind that I not accompany them all the way to Látrabjarg, as when we got around Brjánslækur, they started talking about campsites. We went to Brjánslækur, but despite both our maps indicating camping facilities, there was nothing there except a farm. So we doubled back to nearby Flókalundur which had plenty of accommodations. I was vaguely under the impression that they were calling it a day as well, but no, they were just dropping me off. I thanked them very much for the lift and settled in for a night at Flókalundur. (In hindsight it turned out to be rather unfortunate as the weather was perfect yesterday, and now that I'm here, basically at Látrabjarg, it's all foggy and rainy and shitty, despite a forecast that only called for partial clouds.)

I set up camp, bought a couple of Egils from the "hotel" (couldn't resist despite the extravagant cost) and prepared for a soothing night of eating, drinking, writing, smoking, and relaxing. However, by the time it got to the writing part it was like 1:00 and I sadly realized this just wasn't gonna happen. I needed some fucking rest. This midnight sun shit really screws with your sense of time. You just wanna keep going, then you realize, "Oh man, it's like two in the morning!" So, I finished off one of the beers and went to bed. Despite being respectably tired, I had a really hard time getting to sleep due to the cold, the light, and the incessant birds flying overhead. My sleeping bag is designed so that only really your nose and eyes are exposed to the air. For the first time in my life, my eyeballs were actually cold, to the point of actually bothering me enough to not be able to sleep. It was a very strange sensation. After coming to the realization that this wasn't going to be overcome, I got my eye mask and ear plugs out and wearily tried again. It was one of those nights that you only know you've slept because you emerge from half-sleep enough to be conscious of it. So, not a good night's sleep at all. I've come to realize I have a really hard time sleeping in a tent if I haven't consumed a considerable amount of booze beforehand. I'll see if this can be conquered in the coming days.

Brjánslækur

Flókalundur

Got a later start than I wanted to since I had such a rough night. Hit the road about noonish. Got picked up about halfway to Brjánslækur. Problem was, he was only going to Brjánslækur, which at that point was only like 2½ km distant. Every bit helps, though, and is appreciated. After Brjánslækur, I walked a pretty good ways before getting picked up by a couple from Selfoss on their way to Patreksfjörður. They dropped me off at the head of Ósafjörður, which should've been called Mýfjörður because it was a goddamn blizzard of flies there. If you stopped waving both your hands around your head for even one second you had them crawling all over your head, in your ears, eyes, nose. Argh, it was maddening.

Setting out of Flókalundur

Kleifaheiði

Coming down into Ósafjörður

The shallow, brackish head of the fjord, replete with flies

Fortunately this fly zone didn't extend far beyond the shallow head of the fjord and it didn't take long before I was free of their tormenting. Also, fortunately, it didn't take long before I got picked up again. A very nice couple, Ragnar & Hilda, took me all the way to the end of the road with a quick detour to Sauðlauksdalur. Unfortunately, by this time the weather had deteriorated and it started to rain. My bid for Látrabjarg was ruined. I cursed the Germans for not taking me the whole way with them the night before when the weather was ideal. At this point I was faced with staying in the free but facilityless campsite at Látravík or going to the one with great facilities (free coffee, free internet access, etc.) at nearby Breiðavík. Looking for a little comfort far from home, plus the ever-important chance to recharge my camera batteries, I chose the latter. I now sit in the hotel, finishing off that second, delicious Egils, rushing to get this all down because I want to get a fucking good night's sleep tonight. I have my doubts seeing how cold and damp and drizzly it is out there. Good news is that tomorrow's supposed to be nice again and Ragnar said he'd pick me up at 8:00 and drive me to a good spot to start hiking Látrabjarg. Weather permitting, of course. Man, everyone's so fucking nice and helpful here. It's amazing. A group of people just in here gave me a bunch of their leftovers of steak tips and potato salad. I fucking love this place.

Sauðlauksdalur

Views on the way out to Látravík

Hótel Breiðavík

Dinner, night 2

 

Monday, 25 June.   Breiðavík.

Back in the hotel. It's four in the morning. I haven't slept a wink. I was driven from my tent by the intolerable, incessant noise of birds. They kept me awake all night. At first it was mainly just this one bird, insistently near my tent, screeching out this same call over and over and over and over and over again. Incessantly. For hours on end. I did everything I could to try to ignore it, but it was just so intrusive I couldn't. My earplugs are a fucking joke. They're made of such a resilient material that it's impossible to get them inserted properly into your ear, so the best you can do is just barely get them in, and they only hint at blocking out sound, but don't actually do it. I don't think even a decent pair would block out this cacophony, though. I can still hear them clearly from inside the hotel with the door shut. I got out and tried throwing rocks at the damned thing, but it just kept coming back. Now, other birds have joined in and it's fucking unbearable. I really needed a good night's sleep. Now I'll get no sleep at all.

My hellish location for the night

Inside my tent, unable to sleep, sudden ornithophobe