Yesterday we entered the most north western (and most lonely and remote) region of Iceland, the West Fjords. The landscape of this entire island nation is varied and spectacular, but the West Fjords? Just, wow. Stark, windswept, colorful in its subtle magnificence (no trees anywhere in this entire country to take your eyes off the little stuff!) I’ve seen a lot of landscapes that have moved me to tears, but the vistas of mountains, moors and fjords of this region are so vivid and mesmerizing, such an experience of every single changing moment in eternity, it is hard to come up with the words. You just have to see it yourself.
Yesterday, thankfully, the wind died down. We found out a bit later that the northern region wind warning that day was at Orange, the highest, and a warning that Icelanders absolutely respect—no outdoor activity whatsoever when wind gusts are coming at 40 meters per second (89.5 mph.)
After a good breakfast (no surprise, only I ate the herring) we headed into the up and down zig-zag of the west fjord roads.
A stop at the Arctic Fox Center in the village of Sudavik taught us all kinds of interesting facts about the Arctic Fox, including that the highest density of foxes in Iceland is in the West Fjords, that the Arctic Fox and it’s fur is so well adapted to the extremely harsh environment that they don’t have to raise their metabolic rate to keep warm until the environmental temperature is below 50 degrees Celsius. Also, weirdly, the closest genetic relatives to the Arctic Fox are two species of small fox that live on either side of the Rocky Mountains of the US and southern Canada. We learned all sorts of other things, many of which included methods by which they were nearly hunted to extinction until the 1980’s. These foxes are hardly bigger than a house cat (certainly not bigger than Hobie!!)
The fox below lives with a pal at the Center—they were both orphaned.
We are staying in the village of Flateyri, on Onundarfjordur. This was a big shark fishing center back in the early 1800’s and many of the homes and buildings are still occupied and in use, a few by the same families of what are reputed to be extremely courageous shark boat captains. Flateyri is also the home of Iceland’s oldest original shop—the Old Bookshop—run by a woman that is eager to talk about Icelandic books and the town of Flateyri (I dropped quite a few bucks here…) So, in January of 1995, a huge avalanched occurred that destroyed many homes, buried 45 people and killed 20. An avalanche diversion wall was built to protect the village and its harbor. In January, 2020, another massive avalanche occurred. The diversion wall split the avalanche into two arms—one went skier’s right and wiped out 10 homes, the other went skier’s left into the fjord harbor and caused a localized tsunami that sank 8 fishing boats.
Alas, even now you can see the heavy machinery working on the slope, trying to get it right.
Today, David and I went with the Icelandic horses out for a gorgeous ride. The Icelandic horse is a revered and highly protected breed—there are no other horses allowed on the island and if one were to take an Icelandic horse away from Iceland, it is forever banished from coming back, so feared is genetic contamination by the Icelanders. These horses, unlike any other breed, have a fifth gait, the tolt which is related to a trot but faster and smoother. It is so fun to ride the tolt!
Our lovely young guide—just graduated rom university in Berlin—has been here for the summer, working at the local cafe and with the horses. She was great, and interesting. David had a bit of a challenge with all the river crossings as his stirruped feet dunked in the ice water a few times (Icelandic horses are not super tall.)
Just a lovely day with our equine friends in this tremendous landscape.
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