Exploring Patreksfjordur and then, Ahoy!

We woke up yesterday morning to the ticking of sleet being flung against the window. When the clouds cleaared, there was a dusting of snow on the crags across the fjord. Snow and high winds are in the forecast for the next couple days, over the north and west that we have already covered. Snow certainly would have added an element to the wind adventures we’ve been having!

The weather for the day cleared though, and was beautifully cooperative. The boat above is Gardar, a 1912 steel whaling boat that in 1982 was “shipwrecked” at the head of this fjord—we highly suspect someone got sick of it and beached it here in the dead of night. It’s steel, and it’s not going anywhere!

We traveled on around Patreksfjordur, on a very sketchy gravel road sans guard rails, to the great Latrabar Fluglabjorgum (Latarborg Bird Cliffs) just to see them—the Arctic terns were still happily sailing around but most of the other sea birds have set sail by now. As you can see at top, one could buy sheep’s milk from a self-serve, self-pay station on the road. We took a pass on that one.

A little church nearly on the beach and an old cemetery . . .

. . . welcomed us to Raudasandur, a red sand beach that was also reached by a very sketchy gravel road with precipitous, one lane tight switchbacks. 

Supposedly, the unique color of this expansive beach is due to many, many gazillions of ocean-pulverized scallop shells, but I don’t think I’m buying that explanation. Especially since the marshes abutting the beach are flowing with tannin-stained streams and the cliffs above are streaked with red from iron deposits. Regardless the reason, our long walk here as the tide was receding was super beautiful (as was the weather)

Then it was on to the ferry dock at Branslaekur, which is, basically, nothing but a ferry dock. It did, however, afford us a culinary delight that David was beginning to worry we were going to miss out on—the highly rated, Icelandic gas station hot dog. Ferry docks never disappoint!

The ride on the ferry Baldur—that opens up both a back hatch and is able to lift the whole bow to allow cars and other vehicles to drive into its belly—was 2-1/2 hours across Breidarfjordur. This giant inlet of the North Atlantic is dotted with innumerable tiny islands, only one that has any full time residents. The Baldur makes a stop at the island of Flateyri coming and going, bringing supplies, ferrying mail and providing transport for residents that need groceries, etc.

Saying good-bye to the West Fjords and thinking about saying good-bye to all of Iceland in the next 24 hours is sad. David and I have absolutely loved our time here. I spent a good part of the voyage back to Sykkisholmur on deck, protedcted from the wind and absolutely enthralled with the sky and the clouds and the light playing on the water. Great trip, and we are so fortunate to have been able to do it.