Horses, Kayaking and Adventure in Iceland
Jul 26th, 2015, 10:47 AM
#21
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I have now been at this the entire day and it's time to go do some yoga to take the kinks out. Tomorrow morning at 10 sharp Eddi is going to pick me up for The Great Camera Adventure Continues Saga Part I, The Ending, or hopefully, I find one that fits my batteries. We'll see. By day's end I will be back at Eldhestar and in another new room, with new riders. With great luck, and I am putting it out there right now, Universe, with people possessed of a wicked and delightful sense of humor and fun, play and joy, and who are interested in meeting new people. Whatever country they are from.
I do recommend Bus Hostel by the way, for those of you who are hostellers. Great place.
I do recommend Bus Hostel by the way, for those of you who are hostellers. Great place.
Jul 27th, 2015, 07:03 AM
#22
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It's Monday, and the tale of the smushed camera is at its end. Eddi the Savior showed up today ten minutes before 10 and I leapt into his taxi. For the next two hours he swept me through a series of repair shops (it has to go to the Czech Republic, ya well I have to have back by 4 today) then we went on to try to buy a camera. We found the perfect camera, problem solved. NO, can't find batteries. Does no one in Reykjavik carry extra batteries for a Panasonic camera? Answer: NO. Four stores and a hundred dollar cab fare later (much laughter, many stories and a lot of fun) Eddi has a brain explosion. He says he has one more friend- now mind you these are his professional photojournalism network, not retail stores-so we land at a Canon store where his friend has three kinds of cameras including our favorite Panasonic, but no batteries. He does, however, have a Nikon, which does have back up battteries. SAVED! No. It isn't waterproof. He grabs a bright blue version out of the counter which is, like the one I had, and then finds six extra batteries (only $35 bucks apiece mind you), and an extra charger, because how I have to charge them before I go on the trip and I am nearly out of enough hours to do so. And I will not be able to get all of them charged but at least some. The total, to replace a $350 camera, including the cab fare: nearly US $1000. Eddi dropped me off here with a big hug and I've been here charging my batteries and eating real food (yogurt and fruit) since, taking power naps and readying myself for the next adventure.
Aug 3rd, 2015, 05:05 AM
#24
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I'd love to try to write an entire book with my thumbs. But then, that's what I use my iPad for.
This trip was a completely different, and absolutely wonderful experience, made up as it was of 11 Germans, one Swiss, one Brit, three Canadians and one American. For whatever reason the group gelled very differently, it is the fluid nature of group dynamics that things happen this way. The first night (and I found this very funny) my roommate showed up very late. When she landed at the dinner table at Eldhestar her cigarette smoke arrived first. Oh boy. Smoke gives me migraines, and I wondered how this was going to play out. So at the guesthouse she has one on the way over, and when she comes in the door of our tiny room the smoke comes in with her again. She puts her luggage down, and immediately excuses herself for another smoke. Okay. At this, I get my pillow and comforter and move to the common room sofa. When she comes back in I explain to her why, which she truly understands, and we laugh about it, and she's fine. So a short night on the sofa. The next morning I had to rescue my coat and fleece and hang them outside for several hours to get the smoke out. When I was in my early twenties, I smoked like that too, I remember. This woman is in her fifties, and interestingly she has not ridden for 15 years since a bad car accident. She has bravely decided to do this trip, for which I heartily applaud her, and she's going to give this a go. All the others are experienced riders.
The next morning I'm given the morning off since I'd already done the introduction and I get to help saddle horses for other trips, which gives me lots of time to play with the animals while tightening cinches and putting on nosebands. It's a busy, busy day, the sun is brilliant again and many of our same guides are taking out day riders. Horses are jammed together so tightly that I can hardly get my hand between them, much less a saddle and myself. It's a fun several hours, sending out saddled horses, many of which I recognize from the first trip. One of the three owners is constantly walking around, fully engaged, helping with horses, tack, talking to clients. This is something I like about Eldhestar. You see them around, they're not in an office, they are out working you personally, and answering questions or being involved in one way or another.
By midday we were all tacked up and on our way to the farm where we'd pick up our horses and head out. This group got Sam, an irrepressible man in his late fifties or so who had a great bass of a voice and a great, grand good humor. We had two younger female guides, with a good bit less experience but quite competent. In minutes we were up and on our way, and pointed towards the distant range where the great volcano which had filled the skies with ash just a few years back dominated the landscape, draped in snow and rain.
This trip was a completely different, and absolutely wonderful experience, made up as it was of 11 Germans, one Swiss, one Brit, three Canadians and one American. For whatever reason the group gelled very differently, it is the fluid nature of group dynamics that things happen this way. The first night (and I found this very funny) my roommate showed up very late. When she landed at the dinner table at Eldhestar her cigarette smoke arrived first. Oh boy. Smoke gives me migraines, and I wondered how this was going to play out. So at the guesthouse she has one on the way over, and when she comes in the door of our tiny room the smoke comes in with her again. She puts her luggage down, and immediately excuses herself for another smoke. Okay. At this, I get my pillow and comforter and move to the common room sofa. When she comes back in I explain to her why, which she truly understands, and we laugh about it, and she's fine. So a short night on the sofa. The next morning I had to rescue my coat and fleece and hang them outside for several hours to get the smoke out. When I was in my early twenties, I smoked like that too, I remember. This woman is in her fifties, and interestingly she has not ridden for 15 years since a bad car accident. She has bravely decided to do this trip, for which I heartily applaud her, and she's going to give this a go. All the others are experienced riders.
The next morning I'm given the morning off since I'd already done the introduction and I get to help saddle horses for other trips, which gives me lots of time to play with the animals while tightening cinches and putting on nosebands. It's a busy, busy day, the sun is brilliant again and many of our same guides are taking out day riders. Horses are jammed together so tightly that I can hardly get my hand between them, much less a saddle and myself. It's a fun several hours, sending out saddled horses, many of which I recognize from the first trip. One of the three owners is constantly walking around, fully engaged, helping with horses, tack, talking to clients. This is something I like about Eldhestar. You see them around, they're not in an office, they are out working you personally, and answering questions or being involved in one way or another.
By midday we were all tacked up and on our way to the farm where we'd pick up our horses and head out. This group got Sam, an irrepressible man in his late fifties or so who had a great bass of a voice and a great, grand good humor. We had two younger female guides, with a good bit less experience but quite competent. In minutes we were up and on our way, and pointed towards the distant range where the great volcano which had filled the skies with ash just a few years back dominated the landscape, draped in snow and rain.
Aug 3rd, 2015, 05:38 AM
#25
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The first day was a sunny breezy one which quickly slipped into cold rain by early afternoon. The showers didn't move, but held over our area as we tolted towards our evening destination. The land was flat and green, that eye-hurting green that reminds me so much of New Zealand, the mark of rich volcanic soil and dense nutrients. The ranges were snow covered the breezes made the dampness icy. We crossed pastures and long lines of trees, past guesthouses along the main road. As we made our way, Sam eased us into the tolt slowly making sure that no one was left behind, and that people were able to keep up.
By late afternoon we had reached a large pasture that was dotted with the huge white hay bales mentioned earlier. Here we would dismount, leave our saddles for pickup by the truck, and make our way by foot over some nice hills and into a valley where the guesthouse lay. Sam who is a natural athlete, has this long, loping stride what makes him fun to walk with. You eat up the ground while walking with him and his quick mind has something to say on everything. On the first of these pleasant long walks I learned that Sam had been a National Champion volleyball player many times, over, and a number of those championships were won well into his fifites with a team in their twenties- and he was a player as well as their coach. He had also been a radio and TV personality and quite the singing voice. Back to that later.
Our guesthouses, and there were several, were nestled in this sweet valley whose land stretched out in all directions. There were horses nearby, a greenhouse next door, and two to a room. A kitchen faced the ranges, and we had full great windows that allowed us to enjoy at 75% view of the land as our art all day and night. And we did. Cook had arrived before us and the table was set with snackables and drinks, and we set to shower and set up our rooms.
As I'd asked for alternative rooming arrangements, I landed with Cook, with whom I made fast friends. Cook who had a crown of wonderful curly red hair, is from Germany and she works on an organic farm. Makes her own cheese and yogurt and generally has a lovely way with food. She plied me with yogurt as well, and a great supply of blueberry jam to sweeten it with, and fried eggs.
That night, having had a short night prior, I went to bed at 7:30 to get a good night's sleep. However I was awakened a short time later by a rousing version of "It's a Long Way to Tipperary," which Sam was leading with that booming voice of his, through the paper thin walls of the guesthouse.
Sam was working through a few songs per country to make sure we all felt at home, and this lasted until 10 pm. When I got up at four, I found to my dismay that Cook had relocated to the couch. Since I'm not a smoker, and I'd been consuming any beans lately I wondered what might have precipitated this move. Later, she laughed and explained that I snored "not loudly, but still, I'm a light sleeper." There you have it. Who knew. Hell's bells. That's funny.
By late afternoon we had reached a large pasture that was dotted with the huge white hay bales mentioned earlier. Here we would dismount, leave our saddles for pickup by the truck, and make our way by foot over some nice hills and into a valley where the guesthouse lay. Sam who is a natural athlete, has this long, loping stride what makes him fun to walk with. You eat up the ground while walking with him and his quick mind has something to say on everything. On the first of these pleasant long walks I learned that Sam had been a National Champion volleyball player many times, over, and a number of those championships were won well into his fifites with a team in their twenties- and he was a player as well as their coach. He had also been a radio and TV personality and quite the singing voice. Back to that later.
Our guesthouses, and there were several, were nestled in this sweet valley whose land stretched out in all directions. There were horses nearby, a greenhouse next door, and two to a room. A kitchen faced the ranges, and we had full great windows that allowed us to enjoy at 75% view of the land as our art all day and night. And we did. Cook had arrived before us and the table was set with snackables and drinks, and we set to shower and set up our rooms.
As I'd asked for alternative rooming arrangements, I landed with Cook, with whom I made fast friends. Cook who had a crown of wonderful curly red hair, is from Germany and she works on an organic farm. Makes her own cheese and yogurt and generally has a lovely way with food. She plied me with yogurt as well, and a great supply of blueberry jam to sweeten it with, and fried eggs.
That night, having had a short night prior, I went to bed at 7:30 to get a good night's sleep. However I was awakened a short time later by a rousing version of "It's a Long Way to Tipperary," which Sam was leading with that booming voice of his, through the paper thin walls of the guesthouse.
Sam was working through a few songs per country to make sure we all felt at home, and this lasted until 10 pm. When I got up at four, I found to my dismay that Cook had relocated to the couch. Since I'm not a smoker, and I'd been consuming any beans lately I wondered what might have precipitated this move. Later, she laughed and explained that I snored "not loudly, but still, I'm a light sleeper." There you have it. Who knew. Hell's bells. That's funny.
Aug 3rd, 2015, 05:46 AM
#26
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The next morning dawned bright and gorgeous, the sun making long shadows beside the horses. We gathered our jackets and set forth for the pasture, and I took up stride with Sam as we headed over the hill into the teeth of the wind that greeted us when we faced out over the landscape. The gentle hills fell away and the pastures unfolded, the guides had our horses ready to go. In minutes Sam has us aboard and off we went.
Our smoker was taking a day off, the first day being a little rough on her back and neck and we lost one other person as well. So they were being driven while we picked up our herd to move towards Thorsmark and the lovely waterfalls ahead of us. The pace was quick and easy, and everyone settled in.
What was most notable the second day was the pasture where we had lunch. It was a large pasture, sloping and lovely, surrounded on nearly all sides by rock outcroppings, the pastures liberally sprinkled with yellow and purple summer flowers and a bubbling stream. You could not take a bad photograph in this pasture. So when we arrived and dismounted, letting our horses toss their unbridled heads and lift their heels to gallop to the far side, most went to the food truck, and I followed the herd. The reward for that was that every frame I shot was nearly a calendar shot. Horses grazing or grooming, rolling or sleeping against a backdrop of snowcovered ranges, cobalt skies and summer flowers. Simply lovely. Many of the horses wanted their massage time, too, some following around like a household dog insisting on attention by pushing you with a nose again and again like a four year old.
Our smoker was taking a day off, the first day being a little rough on her back and neck and we lost one other person as well. So they were being driven while we picked up our herd to move towards Thorsmark and the lovely waterfalls ahead of us. The pace was quick and easy, and everyone settled in.
What was most notable the second day was the pasture where we had lunch. It was a large pasture, sloping and lovely, surrounded on nearly all sides by rock outcroppings, the pastures liberally sprinkled with yellow and purple summer flowers and a bubbling stream. You could not take a bad photograph in this pasture. So when we arrived and dismounted, letting our horses toss their unbridled heads and lift their heels to gallop to the far side, most went to the food truck, and I followed the herd. The reward for that was that every frame I shot was nearly a calendar shot. Horses grazing or grooming, rolling or sleeping against a backdrop of snowcovered ranges, cobalt skies and summer flowers. Simply lovely. Many of the horses wanted their massage time, too, some following around like a household dog insisting on attention by pushing you with a nose again and again like a four year old.
Aug 3rd, 2015, 06:05 AM
#27
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By the end of our riding day, and remember these rides are half the riding time of Desert to Desert so they are perhaps four to six hours or so, we are at a corral near our dorms for the night. Again we have a bit of a walk, and we let our horses free in a corral, and the saddles nearby for nighttime pickup. From there we walk to a grouping of buildings, including one which features bunk beds with two large tables taking up most of the room in the middle. Here is where we sleep and have dinner. I am hoping no singing tonight, as my bunk is going to be right next to the bench.
Bathroom facilities are a walk- a substantial one- from the dorm, which I eye with mild concern. The mind does an automatic calculation. For those of us who are prone to getting up at the wee hours for a dash to the loo, this is not a dash, it's more like a marathon. I automatically start ratcheting back liquids and liquid containing foods.....The good news is that the facilities are both clean and pristine. The other news is that the water out of the tap is cold enough to get your full attention, the kind of ice cream headache water that you get when you put mostly ice in a glass and then cold water and let it sit. This is what you brush your teeth with. Wash your hands with. After which you spend about fifteen minutes unbending the fingers that have become frozen claws.
But the kitchen was big, no electricity (solar only, no recharging) and each time you walked to the loo, you were accompanied by some terrific views. Walk, stroll or sprint on that nice wooden walkway, there was a gorgeous green mountain to watch over you, and the bushes and brush were dotted with wildflowers.
There were also a lot of other people here, whether to hike or bike or otherwise, this place was booked out entirely. Our gear took up all available space in our building and we spilled out over onto the walkway when it came time to gear up in the morning. As did everyone else, it seemed.
That night, I went to bed at about 7 pm. I faced the wall, everyone sat down to eat, and I have no memory of anyone's arias or "We All Live in a Yellow Submarine" which seems to be a universal favorite. Nothing until about 3 am, which roused me for a trip to the ladies' in the bright never ending light, peak at my side.
Cook had gone overboard that night, with Sam's help, grilling wild salmon in foil with spices, and we ate like kings and queens.
Bathroom facilities are a walk- a substantial one- from the dorm, which I eye with mild concern. The mind does an automatic calculation. For those of us who are prone to getting up at the wee hours for a dash to the loo, this is not a dash, it's more like a marathon. I automatically start ratcheting back liquids and liquid containing foods.....The good news is that the facilities are both clean and pristine. The other news is that the water out of the tap is cold enough to get your full attention, the kind of ice cream headache water that you get when you put mostly ice in a glass and then cold water and let it sit. This is what you brush your teeth with. Wash your hands with. After which you spend about fifteen minutes unbending the fingers that have become frozen claws.
But the kitchen was big, no electricity (solar only, no recharging) and each time you walked to the loo, you were accompanied by some terrific views. Walk, stroll or sprint on that nice wooden walkway, there was a gorgeous green mountain to watch over you, and the bushes and brush were dotted with wildflowers.
There were also a lot of other people here, whether to hike or bike or otherwise, this place was booked out entirely. Our gear took up all available space in our building and we spilled out over onto the walkway when it came time to gear up in the morning. As did everyone else, it seemed.
That night, I went to bed at about 7 pm. I faced the wall, everyone sat down to eat, and I have no memory of anyone's arias or "We All Live in a Yellow Submarine" which seems to be a universal favorite. Nothing until about 3 am, which roused me for a trip to the ladies' in the bright never ending light, peak at my side.
Cook had gone overboard that night, with Sam's help, grilling wild salmon in foil with spices, and we ate like kings and queens.
Aug 3rd, 2015, 06:15 AM
#28
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Early the next morning once the luggage was all done, I copped a ride with Sam and the guides down to the corral (about a twenty minute walk) and we started rounding up the day's rides for the group. The horses know the drill, and there's also just enough room for them to squeeze away from those of us approaching with a bridle. The ones who REALLY don't want to work find a way to insert themselves into a tight three or foresome, like a scrum, and when we approach, bolt out like a cannon and escape to the other end of the corral.
One mare was so good at doing this that we had exhausted our bag of tricks, and so Ana, one of the guides, resorted to sweet trickery. I'm not sure exactly what she did, but the next thing I know the mare had a bridle on and was headed my way. Once we had her, I went to work on her flanks, and found her sweet spot. Because of her propensity to bolt I'd never had a chance to work on her and here it was. Her special spot was right between her front legs on the lower chest, not far from where the cinch is tightened. As soon as I rubbed it with my nails her head extended, she closed her eyes, and stood shock still, her lower lip quivering. I tell you it is a wonderful thing to do this.
The group joined us a few minutes later and off we went.
Today Sam took us into a valley which was characterized by tall walls, covered with green moss, beautiful green foliage, a stream running through it and heavy rocks on the ground. The horses at times would nose the ground, stepping carefully and surefootedly through the path, never once tripping. The valley was stunning and cool, the breezes flowing into our faces. We reached a point where we crossed a stream and let our animals drink, then dismounted to let part of our group visit the waterfall. Here the horses ate off the walls tangling their hair with the mosses and greenery, looking for all the world like something from The Shire.
One mare was so good at doing this that we had exhausted our bag of tricks, and so Ana, one of the guides, resorted to sweet trickery. I'm not sure exactly what she did, but the next thing I know the mare had a bridle on and was headed my way. Once we had her, I went to work on her flanks, and found her sweet spot. Because of her propensity to bolt I'd never had a chance to work on her and here it was. Her special spot was right between her front legs on the lower chest, not far from where the cinch is tightened. As soon as I rubbed it with my nails her head extended, she closed her eyes, and stood shock still, her lower lip quivering. I tell you it is a wonderful thing to do this.
The group joined us a few minutes later and off we went.
Today Sam took us into a valley which was characterized by tall walls, covered with green moss, beautiful green foliage, a stream running through it and heavy rocks on the ground. The horses at times would nose the ground, stepping carefully and surefootedly through the path, never once tripping. The valley was stunning and cool, the breezes flowing into our faces. We reached a point where we crossed a stream and let our animals drink, then dismounted to let part of our group visit the waterfall. Here the horses ate off the walls tangling their hair with the mosses and greenery, looking for all the world like something from The Shire.
Aug 3rd, 2015, 06:37 AM
#29
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Lunch found us back at our picture perfect pasture, so I had one more chance to wander among the horses for photos. The guides had taken the herd there before us so a number of the horses had been grazing. This was a brilliant sunny day, and several had been napping. I found a brown mare fast asleep, she eventually got her massage and she was the one I ended up riding later that afternoon.
Here we changed out our horses again, and by this time, many in our group had begun to form favorites. It was our chance to identify who we wanted to ride on our last day. A real fan favorite was Daniel, a beloved horse of many. Mine was Flickr, whom I'd ridden before and dearly loved. A particular personality trait or gait would endear a horse to a rider, or both, and to watch a horse stay a moment with a rider at day's end rather than tear off to join its compatriots would explain why one of these riders would have a special love for a particular horse.
This happened on our third night in fact. We had a German family traveling with us. The daughter, who is in her early twenties, has an interesting appearance. She has shaved the sides of her head, formed her long blonde hair into dreadlocks and had piercings in her lips. This is an investment in a look, and people respond any way they like. It's a look, and I'm sure folks draw conclusions. She also smokes, and she can speak fairly aggressively as well. However, at the end of the day, hers was the very last horse to be let go after all the rest of the herd and the riders' horses were long gone, gathered at the far end of the pasture. Her black mare, freed of saddle and bridle, stood quiety at her side, in some kind of private communion with this young woman. I stood nearby watching this take place. When the horse finally decided it was time to go, she left quietly and with no great rush. Clearly she was calmed and happy and in go great hurry to leave the girl.
So appearances may be what they are, but the fact is that we know nothing. The horse clearly knew something, and I trust the horse. It's one of the reasons they are such great teachers, they are true.
That afternoon we also took a side trip to a crater glacier where there had once been a lagoon. Boom, no lagoon, but now there is a great deal of black soil and rock reforming the landscape. The glacier itself, melting quickly into the merry river that it is sending out in the hinterlands, sports that lovely turquoise that is characteristic of glacial lakes, and if you like you can get rained on by going inside it.
This was the day I began to notice a bit of a challenge. Background here- I'm a bonafide bleeder. Not common for a woman, but I am one, and hence I bruise easily. When I first began riding some two weeks ago I noticed that the saddles weren't kind to my inner knees, but the sheepskin that I bring to ride upon usually handles that. Well, over time, it hasn't. I don't ride saddles at home, at least those that have kneepads, and over the last few weeks I'd been forming a good sized bruise. Especially on my left knee, from the constant impact of knee on hard leather.
By the time we got back to our guesthouse in the valley I had a bruise the size of a California navel orange, and it wasn't very happy. Cook and I conspired to find arnica oil and tablets, and I did what I could to get the swelling down. The problem was I had another day of riding, and the hundreds if not thousands of times the knee hits the saddle during the tolt just bruises it more. I should have changed saddles at the start of this trip but didn't realize.
That night, I snuck into the almost never open shower at 6:30 pm, and was just getting my trousers to half mast when Sam hollered my name. "You've got five minutes to get ready," he yelled, "we're going to the waterfall!" Classic Sam, the rest were already in the car, but I got there in five minutes and off we went. The falls were tall and lovely, a great excuse to do a side trip, and the little gift shop offered us 15% off for us Eldhestar riders.
I was able to get that shower, slather the knee, and slip into blissful sleep. Cook took the couch, I got my own room again.
Here we changed out our horses again, and by this time, many in our group had begun to form favorites. It was our chance to identify who we wanted to ride on our last day. A real fan favorite was Daniel, a beloved horse of many. Mine was Flickr, whom I'd ridden before and dearly loved. A particular personality trait or gait would endear a horse to a rider, or both, and to watch a horse stay a moment with a rider at day's end rather than tear off to join its compatriots would explain why one of these riders would have a special love for a particular horse.
This happened on our third night in fact. We had a German family traveling with us. The daughter, who is in her early twenties, has an interesting appearance. She has shaved the sides of her head, formed her long blonde hair into dreadlocks and had piercings in her lips. This is an investment in a look, and people respond any way they like. It's a look, and I'm sure folks draw conclusions. She also smokes, and she can speak fairly aggressively as well. However, at the end of the day, hers was the very last horse to be let go after all the rest of the herd and the riders' horses were long gone, gathered at the far end of the pasture. Her black mare, freed of saddle and bridle, stood quiety at her side, in some kind of private communion with this young woman. I stood nearby watching this take place. When the horse finally decided it was time to go, she left quietly and with no great rush. Clearly she was calmed and happy and in go great hurry to leave the girl.
So appearances may be what they are, but the fact is that we know nothing. The horse clearly knew something, and I trust the horse. It's one of the reasons they are such great teachers, they are true.
That afternoon we also took a side trip to a crater glacier where there had once been a lagoon. Boom, no lagoon, but now there is a great deal of black soil and rock reforming the landscape. The glacier itself, melting quickly into the merry river that it is sending out in the hinterlands, sports that lovely turquoise that is characteristic of glacial lakes, and if you like you can get rained on by going inside it.
This was the day I began to notice a bit of a challenge. Background here- I'm a bonafide bleeder. Not common for a woman, but I am one, and hence I bruise easily. When I first began riding some two weeks ago I noticed that the saddles weren't kind to my inner knees, but the sheepskin that I bring to ride upon usually handles that. Well, over time, it hasn't. I don't ride saddles at home, at least those that have kneepads, and over the last few weeks I'd been forming a good sized bruise. Especially on my left knee, from the constant impact of knee on hard leather.
By the time we got back to our guesthouse in the valley I had a bruise the size of a California navel orange, and it wasn't very happy. Cook and I conspired to find arnica oil and tablets, and I did what I could to get the swelling down. The problem was I had another day of riding, and the hundreds if not thousands of times the knee hits the saddle during the tolt just bruises it more. I should have changed saddles at the start of this trip but didn't realize.
That night, I snuck into the almost never open shower at 6:30 pm, and was just getting my trousers to half mast when Sam hollered my name. "You've got five minutes to get ready," he yelled, "we're going to the waterfall!" Classic Sam, the rest were already in the car, but I got there in five minutes and off we went. The falls were tall and lovely, a great excuse to do a side trip, and the little gift shop offered us 15% off for us Eldhestar riders.
I was able to get that shower, slather the knee, and slip into blissful sleep. Cook took the couch, I got my own room again.
Aug 3rd, 2015, 07:05 AM
#30
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The final day I was met with a bruise that had spread from mid thigh to just over the calf and had swollen to the size of a grapefruit. Well then. Hi there. This is going to be interesting. I'm not one to take the truck home (say what you will, I just don't). I popped two super pain pills at 4 am, and began dressing. Well, good news bad news, I could get the breeches on, but being skin tight, it hurt to move because they put pressure on the bruise.Well then. Okay. I got packed, and sat.
Sam and I did the long walk together to the pasture and I got my horse. Stormir- a feisty, chippy, I"llshowyou little guy that my friends around me rolled their eyes and pointed at and said, "he's tough. Good luck. " Right. Well, I asked for a tough horse. Problem is that I can't change, we're ready to go, and everyone is on his favorite. We're leaving.
I won't bother you with what it was like getting up or on. Nor will I tell you what it was like tolting for two and half hours. But morphine in copious amounts did come to mind. I did see the humor in it, did think it was funny. The problem was that by the time we'd started riding, my pain pills had largely run their course and I was on my own, baby. And swelling up bigger.
So we made it to mid morning, stopped and new horses arrived. I turned Stormir in and got Flickr back and in the meantime copping two more pain pills, both of which saved my day. In the meantime Sam, is waxing poetic about the view of the three glaciers. I'm not paying much attention to this, I'm making my way across the road to take care of business. I just about get my breeches down around my ankles when a very long line of riders, cameras in hand, show up right above me at the edge of the road to photograph the view of the three glaciers. Busted!
They laugh, I laugh, they back up three steps and allow me my moment and they all get their shots for posterity.
On the way to lunch at yet another waterfall, the pain meds do me the kindness of kicking in at the same time that Flickr, who has a lovely tolt, allows me to find a position that takes the pain from a 9.5 to a manageable 6. We make jokes, we tease each other on the trail, we throw up dust, and the horses are very clear they are on the way home. We are moving at quite the clip.
At one point we stop for water, and a construction grader shows up right behind us. For some reason the man insists on coming up the road right to us, and we make way. Then the driver and Sam hail each other and have a chat, and we tease Sam (as this has happened repeatedly) about whether there is anyone in this country he doesn't know? This is his neighbor's son, whom he grew up with, he says, one more story.
Our final day of riding, which dawned almost balmy, stayed warm and lovely all day. By the time we reached our farm to put the horses away, it was still sunny and perfect. The horses wander off to roll and graze and I join them for one last ear scrub. Our group collects and we head back.
On the way, Sam stops off at the largest (by water volume) waterfall in Iceland. On the way he has us listen to a CD by his daughter, which is quite excellent, and he offers to sell us one if we want. The waterfall is impressive and cold, and I'm sure someone got a CD.
By about 4:30 we were all reunited with our luggage and delivered to our hotel in Reykjavik. Danielle, one of our German riders, asked me to join their group for dinner- which led us on a lovely walk by the lake and to a perfectly charming French bistro. I'd been on yogurt for five days, and fried eggs and nuts. So real French onion soup, French vegetables in a pot, and true mousse au chocolat were unbelievable. Le Bistro is right downtown and on the mark.
The Gardur Hotel where we spent the night was even nicer than the previous hostel after Desert to Desert, and the staff got me set up with a taxi to get me around the next day. Given that this is the big Icelandic holiday weekend, everything is closed til Tuesday, which means that I've just stayed in and rested. That has given this knee a chance to heal up.
Apparently Eldhestar has other kinds of saddles available, and I will have time tomorrow to investigate. There are seven more days to ride, and I'd be happier with a bareback saddle pad or just bareback. I'm sure they have options.
Meanwhile we've had lovely weather and temps in the 60s, which is balmy indeed. But no guarantee for tomorrow or next week.
Sam and I did the long walk together to the pasture and I got my horse. Stormir- a feisty, chippy, I"llshowyou little guy that my friends around me rolled their eyes and pointed at and said, "he's tough. Good luck. " Right. Well, I asked for a tough horse. Problem is that I can't change, we're ready to go, and everyone is on his favorite. We're leaving.
I won't bother you with what it was like getting up or on. Nor will I tell you what it was like tolting for two and half hours. But morphine in copious amounts did come to mind. I did see the humor in it, did think it was funny. The problem was that by the time we'd started riding, my pain pills had largely run their course and I was on my own, baby. And swelling up bigger.
So we made it to mid morning, stopped and new horses arrived. I turned Stormir in and got Flickr back and in the meantime copping two more pain pills, both of which saved my day. In the meantime Sam, is waxing poetic about the view of the three glaciers. I'm not paying much attention to this, I'm making my way across the road to take care of business. I just about get my breeches down around my ankles when a very long line of riders, cameras in hand, show up right above me at the edge of the road to photograph the view of the three glaciers. Busted!
They laugh, I laugh, they back up three steps and allow me my moment and they all get their shots for posterity.
On the way to lunch at yet another waterfall, the pain meds do me the kindness of kicking in at the same time that Flickr, who has a lovely tolt, allows me to find a position that takes the pain from a 9.5 to a manageable 6. We make jokes, we tease each other on the trail, we throw up dust, and the horses are very clear they are on the way home. We are moving at quite the clip.
At one point we stop for water, and a construction grader shows up right behind us. For some reason the man insists on coming up the road right to us, and we make way. Then the driver and Sam hail each other and have a chat, and we tease Sam (as this has happened repeatedly) about whether there is anyone in this country he doesn't know? This is his neighbor's son, whom he grew up with, he says, one more story.
Our final day of riding, which dawned almost balmy, stayed warm and lovely all day. By the time we reached our farm to put the horses away, it was still sunny and perfect. The horses wander off to roll and graze and I join them for one last ear scrub. Our group collects and we head back.
On the way, Sam stops off at the largest (by water volume) waterfall in Iceland. On the way he has us listen to a CD by his daughter, which is quite excellent, and he offers to sell us one if we want. The waterfall is impressive and cold, and I'm sure someone got a CD.
By about 4:30 we were all reunited with our luggage and delivered to our hotel in Reykjavik. Danielle, one of our German riders, asked me to join their group for dinner- which led us on a lovely walk by the lake and to a perfectly charming French bistro. I'd been on yogurt for five days, and fried eggs and nuts. So real French onion soup, French vegetables in a pot, and true mousse au chocolat were unbelievable. Le Bistro is right downtown and on the mark.
The Gardur Hotel where we spent the night was even nicer than the previous hostel after Desert to Desert, and the staff got me set up with a taxi to get me around the next day. Given that this is the big Icelandic holiday weekend, everything is closed til Tuesday, which means that I've just stayed in and rested. That has given this knee a chance to heal up.
Apparently Eldhestar has other kinds of saddles available, and I will have time tomorrow to investigate. There are seven more days to ride, and I'd be happier with a bareback saddle pad or just bareback. I'm sure they have options.
Meanwhile we've had lovely weather and temps in the 60s, which is balmy indeed. But no guarantee for tomorrow or next week.
Aug 9th, 2015, 10:21 PM
#31
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Back here on a cloudy Sunday morning at Hostel Village, my laundry had festooned the room until I picked off the pieces one by one to repack. I had bid goodbye to all our riding friends from our last group yesterday at the end of the Snaellfellnes tour, and it was a beauty. In all honesty not what I expected but it had some of the greatest beauty and best riding days of the entire trip.
We began in Bogarnes and took a bus out to the end of the peninsula not far from the glaciar which was a view for much of our riding. This group was made up of Swedes, French, Germans, Austrians and two Americans. There was a Swedish doctor who was 61 named Tina who became a good friend and a nice variety of people along. We had a female senior guide named Uli who spent part of the trip working in Reykjavik, and we had two other female guides with us. At one point we used a hotel owner who had guide horses who took us on a particularly challenging piece of riding, which turned out to be two of our best days.
This trip was somewhat disjointed as each day required that we be bused back to our hotel. We weren't close the horses, and the drives were sometimes quite long. The hotel arrangements were perfectly fine, it was the nature of the logistics and the fact that we were driven entirely by the times of the tides each day that did it. Some days we didn't leave until three pm and didn't get back until 8 pm. That there was nothing at all planned or offered during the day surprised me, as one would think that Eldhestar might offer or think of something to do. But they didn't, so we ended up sitting around doing nothing.
For my part I'd picked up a foul cold from one of the German girls on the bus and ended up sleeping thirteen hours one of those days so was quite happy we had it. But other days dragged on, and the nights were late. Still, the riding on the beaches, the river crossings, including a very fun swim, were worth it. We had such a variety on the beaches including seeing seals, the sand dunes, the black mud flats, and riding over such a broad variety of land that each day was a series of surprises.
Oli, the hotel owner at one of our stays, took us out for two days. His horses were so swift at the tolt that many of ours had to canter to keep up. While not all riders like that quick a pace, I do, and that proved to be the most fun days. The first day it rained, so in our protective gear the wind and rain pelted our faces as we swept over the flats, horses spraying additional water up at us. Oli's joyful brown lab kept the pace, swimming the river and barking at errant horses which overran the herd. We had a medium sized herd with us as well, which allowed us to change out horses two to three times a day.
On some mornings we got warm enough to keep our jackets open but late in the day it was overcast, and cool enough to keep snugged in. Nina the cook kept us fed with porridge and apples for breakfast, and her young daughter also rode with us a few days.
Near to the end of our time on the beach we took the horses swimming, if we wished, and the last beach day we swam a river to get to our hotel. All of us got water in our boots but it was great fun, the horses loved it and all were safe and sound. If there was a complaint about this trip, it was more that there seemed to be a lot of standing around doing nothing, where in the previous trips it was crisp and moving all the time. Logistically, it's challenging due to the locations for the horses at night and where we stay, which is the reason for the busing. But the lack of planning for potential, optional activities was surprising given the cost of the trips.
This trip also had a mild annoyance in that the main guide, Uli, works with kids at her main job, and it shows in her management of adults. People develop habits and they can bleed over, such as micromanagement and overcontrolling that might work with a kindergartener but which will grate when someone is in their forth, fifth or sixth decade. These things can detract from the quality of a trip when they happen constantly, you have to remind yourself of where this is coming from and not take it personally. Other guides didn't do this. Simply a different style.
The last two days of our trip we moved the herd through the mountains while staying at our hotel on the beach. The meadows and hills were picturesque against huge buttresses of stone, the fields full of deep grass and wildflowers and lupine. The most weather we got was a tiny sprinkling, and probably the only real annoyance was the dust kicked up by the herd. As we rode towards Bogarnes yesterday we crossed more rivers and enjoyed additional stops in parks and horse trails on our way back to the stables where Nina the cook met us with quiche and drinks. Many of us stood to pet and rub our favorite horses before being bussed back here to Hostel Village where we showered off all the dirt.
We began in Bogarnes and took a bus out to the end of the peninsula not far from the glaciar which was a view for much of our riding. This group was made up of Swedes, French, Germans, Austrians and two Americans. There was a Swedish doctor who was 61 named Tina who became a good friend and a nice variety of people along. We had a female senior guide named Uli who spent part of the trip working in Reykjavik, and we had two other female guides with us. At one point we used a hotel owner who had guide horses who took us on a particularly challenging piece of riding, which turned out to be two of our best days.
This trip was somewhat disjointed as each day required that we be bused back to our hotel. We weren't close the horses, and the drives were sometimes quite long. The hotel arrangements were perfectly fine, it was the nature of the logistics and the fact that we were driven entirely by the times of the tides each day that did it. Some days we didn't leave until three pm and didn't get back until 8 pm. That there was nothing at all planned or offered during the day surprised me, as one would think that Eldhestar might offer or think of something to do. But they didn't, so we ended up sitting around doing nothing.
For my part I'd picked up a foul cold from one of the German girls on the bus and ended up sleeping thirteen hours one of those days so was quite happy we had it. But other days dragged on, and the nights were late. Still, the riding on the beaches, the river crossings, including a very fun swim, were worth it. We had such a variety on the beaches including seeing seals, the sand dunes, the black mud flats, and riding over such a broad variety of land that each day was a series of surprises.
Oli, the hotel owner at one of our stays, took us out for two days. His horses were so swift at the tolt that many of ours had to canter to keep up. While not all riders like that quick a pace, I do, and that proved to be the most fun days. The first day it rained, so in our protective gear the wind and rain pelted our faces as we swept over the flats, horses spraying additional water up at us. Oli's joyful brown lab kept the pace, swimming the river and barking at errant horses which overran the herd. We had a medium sized herd with us as well, which allowed us to change out horses two to three times a day.
On some mornings we got warm enough to keep our jackets open but late in the day it was overcast, and cool enough to keep snugged in. Nina the cook kept us fed with porridge and apples for breakfast, and her young daughter also rode with us a few days.
Near to the end of our time on the beach we took the horses swimming, if we wished, and the last beach day we swam a river to get to our hotel. All of us got water in our boots but it was great fun, the horses loved it and all were safe and sound. If there was a complaint about this trip, it was more that there seemed to be a lot of standing around doing nothing, where in the previous trips it was crisp and moving all the time. Logistically, it's challenging due to the locations for the horses at night and where we stay, which is the reason for the busing. But the lack of planning for potential, optional activities was surprising given the cost of the trips.
This trip also had a mild annoyance in that the main guide, Uli, works with kids at her main job, and it shows in her management of adults. People develop habits and they can bleed over, such as micromanagement and overcontrolling that might work with a kindergartener but which will grate when someone is in their forth, fifth or sixth decade. These things can detract from the quality of a trip when they happen constantly, you have to remind yourself of where this is coming from and not take it personally. Other guides didn't do this. Simply a different style.
The last two days of our trip we moved the herd through the mountains while staying at our hotel on the beach. The meadows and hills were picturesque against huge buttresses of stone, the fields full of deep grass and wildflowers and lupine. The most weather we got was a tiny sprinkling, and probably the only real annoyance was the dust kicked up by the herd. As we rode towards Bogarnes yesterday we crossed more rivers and enjoyed additional stops in parks and horse trails on our way back to the stables where Nina the cook met us with quiche and drinks. Many of us stood to pet and rub our favorite horses before being bussed back here to Hostel Village where we showered off all the dirt.
Aug 9th, 2015, 10:57 PM
#32
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The biggest challenge on this trip was two fold-getting clean and getting your gear dry. Riding on the beach means getting splashed, and riding the rivers guarantees that your boots get soaked. Swimming, well. Enough said. So the radiators in the hotel rarely gave off enough heat to both heat the building as well as warm up our gear. All the available surfaces were covered with drying breeches, jackets, boots of course and socks.
I found a novel way to clean stuff, given that we didn't have a laundry. I've long used the shower as a source of washing clothing, although not quite like this. I had bought a brand new riding jacket, and by the fifth riding day it was a walking mud bath. I simply donned it and walked into the shower, and scrubbed it down with it on. I found out to my delight that it was quite waterproof, which I didn't realize, and it dried very quickly, so that it was nicely clean for the morning. Whereupon I got it filthy once more. Last night I got dressed in absolutely everything I'd worn, stepped into the tiny standing shower and washed and scrubbed until I got to skin. I went through six towels to take up the extra moisture and slept in a room full of drying laundry. All was done by morning, only a pair of well loved breeches to do, and they take forever to dry, and they stain other things as well. They get their own wash.
The other challenge was simply getting a shower. Sometimes we'd come in and given the shortage of showers there'd be a line. I'd often just go to bed very early and get up early to slip in at 5 am well before the house woke up. That way the water was very warm.
One particularly long day of riding we all came back sore and ready to take the mud off. We were at Hotel Eldborg, where Oli the guide had his brown lab and horses. Only one shower per floor, and a huge dorm of us on the wing. I wandered the floor repeatedly for several hours as the evening wore on, always a line. By about 8 pm the last girl walked out and gave me this look. You don't want to do that, she said, The hot water's all gone. It's freezing in there.
Gack.
I went to bed dirty that night, got up at 5, and snuck into the shower at 5 am. I put the hot water on SCALD and enjoyed turning my skin bright red, and getting all the soreness out of the muscles. Since they'd left a squeegee in the room, I was able to clean up as well, and leave the place spotless.
When we got here last night, there were plans for a group dinner around 6:30 or so. I didn't even get to the shower until 6:30, as the lines were long, and people were naturally luxuriating in the hot water and getting the sweat and dirt of their hair after seven days of riding. I skipped dinner, which I was sad to miss, but not the shower. I wouldn't insult Hostel Village's very nice white linens with this kind of dirt.
I found a novel way to clean stuff, given that we didn't have a laundry. I've long used the shower as a source of washing clothing, although not quite like this. I had bought a brand new riding jacket, and by the fifth riding day it was a walking mud bath. I simply donned it and walked into the shower, and scrubbed it down with it on. I found out to my delight that it was quite waterproof, which I didn't realize, and it dried very quickly, so that it was nicely clean for the morning. Whereupon I got it filthy once more. Last night I got dressed in absolutely everything I'd worn, stepped into the tiny standing shower and washed and scrubbed until I got to skin. I went through six towels to take up the extra moisture and slept in a room full of drying laundry. All was done by morning, only a pair of well loved breeches to do, and they take forever to dry, and they stain other things as well. They get their own wash.
The other challenge was simply getting a shower. Sometimes we'd come in and given the shortage of showers there'd be a line. I'd often just go to bed very early and get up early to slip in at 5 am well before the house woke up. That way the water was very warm.
One particularly long day of riding we all came back sore and ready to take the mud off. We were at Hotel Eldborg, where Oli the guide had his brown lab and horses. Only one shower per floor, and a huge dorm of us on the wing. I wandered the floor repeatedly for several hours as the evening wore on, always a line. By about 8 pm the last girl walked out and gave me this look. You don't want to do that, she said, The hot water's all gone. It's freezing in there.
Gack.
I went to bed dirty that night, got up at 5, and snuck into the shower at 5 am. I put the hot water on SCALD and enjoyed turning my skin bright red, and getting all the soreness out of the muscles. Since they'd left a squeegee in the room, I was able to clean up as well, and leave the place spotless.
When we got here last night, there were plans for a group dinner around 6:30 or so. I didn't even get to the shower until 6:30, as the lines were long, and people were naturally luxuriating in the hot water and getting the sweat and dirt of their hair after seven days of riding. I skipped dinner, which I was sad to miss, but not the shower. I wouldn't insult Hostel Village's very nice white linens with this kind of dirt.
Aug 9th, 2015, 11:15 PM
#33
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I had mentioned earlier in this trip report about people and their phones. Here's an excellent example of what I mean. We had one girl, I think she was German. Pretty, young. Constantly on her social media. Phace in the Phone all the time. Here's the problem. She doesn't want to participate, that's fine. However, when we're riding, we have responsibilities to each other, to the herd, to the guide. To wit: in the morning and multiple times a day we stop and form a circle around the herd with plastic twine. We all have to hold the twine tightly as well as keep an eye on the horses to keep them from escaping, which causes all kinds of other headaches (these are the ones the guide is trying to catch, we're near a busy road, whatever). So Miss Social Media, who is holding the line down by me one the night we're getting ready to go swimming, has the responsiblity to hold this line taught and tight. Right? Wrong. I have my part up. She has her Phace in the Phone. Line is on the ground. Constantly. The guide speaks to her. A minute later, the line is on the ground. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Horses are looking to escape, which means extra work and trouble for all of us. Like a heroin addiction. The guide took her off the line. This is what I'm talking about. Girl was utterly and totally useless and irresponsible. She also was never available for all the other things that needed doing: helping with kitchen work ranging from setting up the table, cutting fruit, washing dishes, a myriad of chores that all of us were expected to help out on. Social media kept some of the girls so preoccupied that guess who did most of the extra grunt work? With some exception, the older women. That's what I mean by having social media get in the way. By taking part in everything we all got to know each other better, became better friends, and had more fun. Phones get in the way. Technology was her master. I never got her name, found out a thing about her. She wasn't available to anyone but whoever was on the phone. But that's her choice. By my measure, and mine alone, she wasn't a participant.
Years ago in the 1980s Australia ran a wonderful campaign called LIfe: Be In It. I loved that campaign, I was there for it, did programs for it, and loved the theme. We need another like it. Right now in America one phone company is actually running ads suggesting that you do something NEW and DIFFERENT like leave your damn phone aside during dinner and actually talk to each other. Tag line? You never know what you might learn. Are you kidding me? Really? This is where we are with phones.
There's a place for technology. But when it gets in the way of your being able to see the vista, be where you are, communicate with those you love, participate in an adventure, then the technology owns you, not the other way around. That was my point. I use technology all the time. My phone stays home. My iPad is used for writing on off hours. The rest of the time is for life. It's already limited enough. The Aussies had it right. Let's be in it.
Years ago in the 1980s Australia ran a wonderful campaign called LIfe: Be In It. I loved that campaign, I was there for it, did programs for it, and loved the theme. We need another like it. Right now in America one phone company is actually running ads suggesting that you do something NEW and DIFFERENT like leave your damn phone aside during dinner and actually talk to each other. Tag line? You never know what you might learn. Are you kidding me? Really? This is where we are with phones.
There's a place for technology. But when it gets in the way of your being able to see the vista, be where you are, communicate with those you love, participate in an adventure, then the technology owns you, not the other way around. That was my point. I use technology all the time. My phone stays home. My iPad is used for writing on off hours. The rest of the time is for life. It's already limited enough. The Aussies had it right. Let's be in it.
needs a kick up the..
Aug 12th, 2015, 01:09 PM
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Bogarnes was lovely, and a very nice break. I found a hotel called Guesthouse Hvita last year and booked it, and turns out the people who run it were lovely and charming. Their place was some 26 km out of town, which is nothing, and it took nothing to find it even with out a map. I had a day to myself in the sunlight warmed room which was utterly and completely still. Quite the contrast to three weeks of nonstop activity, close quarters and chatter. I didn't move for hours. Watched clouds. wrote. Soaked up the silence and healed my knee and my brain.
Of course they got home at six and turned the TV on full blast which sent me running upstairs but that's life.
The top of Snaefellskojull glacier is a fine thing to go explore by snow cat in the summer. It's only about thirty degrees F, about zero C, and except for the considerable wind (yep, those lenticular clouds kinda give it away) it's right comfy up there. I wouldn't dress for spring skiing, however, as the bitter wind hurls sharp ice crystals at you like a pellet gun and they are right painful. But the trip was fun, and the crowd lively. The "bar" which was a big box with two beers in it was laid out in the snow, and apparently either our group had emptied it or the previous one did. By the time I shot a photo there were just those two lonely soldiers left, and no takers. But they were cold all right. The glacier trip was about 10500 ISK and worth it, the views were spectacular. I don't know about coming down feeling twenty years younger as some New Agers like to claim. It's a nifty place and fun to do.
Today was a long five hour drive to the West Fjords, across and around lovely long sloping hills touched lightly by mists, and riding the roads that encircle the long fjords that mark the landscape of this region. They are quite the sight. I was accompanied only rarely by other cars. More often by sheep, in fact. The road was long and quiet, the land has its own stillness, the stillness is tethered to the beauty of the land, and it's breathtaking. Considering the cacophany most of us live with, such quiet is initially stunning, and taken in long daughts it's a wellspring of relief. I remembered bird calls from the back yard of my Florida home that I'd not thought about in decades. Amazing what comes up in the midst of quiet.
Hotel Edda is a nondescript spot with adequate (warm clean) rooms, close to town. I'm here for the kayaking and riding. It's been raining hard for hours, looks almost like snow but it's not. Oh, well, I hope not. I have a lovely view of the metal roof but tomorrow am kayaking the two fjords for five hours, and hoping to see the big shouldered mountains which have disappeared behind the mists. Too calm for funny stories lately.
Of course they got home at six and turned the TV on full blast which sent me running upstairs but that's life.
The top of Snaefellskojull glacier is a fine thing to go explore by snow cat in the summer. It's only about thirty degrees F, about zero C, and except for the considerable wind (yep, those lenticular clouds kinda give it away) it's right comfy up there. I wouldn't dress for spring skiing, however, as the bitter wind hurls sharp ice crystals at you like a pellet gun and they are right painful. But the trip was fun, and the crowd lively. The "bar" which was a big box with two beers in it was laid out in the snow, and apparently either our group had emptied it or the previous one did. By the time I shot a photo there were just those two lonely soldiers left, and no takers. But they were cold all right. The glacier trip was about 10500 ISK and worth it, the views were spectacular. I don't know about coming down feeling twenty years younger as some New Agers like to claim. It's a nifty place and fun to do.
Today was a long five hour drive to the West Fjords, across and around lovely long sloping hills touched lightly by mists, and riding the roads that encircle the long fjords that mark the landscape of this region. They are quite the sight. I was accompanied only rarely by other cars. More often by sheep, in fact. The road was long and quiet, the land has its own stillness, the stillness is tethered to the beauty of the land, and it's breathtaking. Considering the cacophany most of us live with, such quiet is initially stunning, and taken in long daughts it's a wellspring of relief. I remembered bird calls from the back yard of my Florida home that I'd not thought about in decades. Amazing what comes up in the midst of quiet.
Hotel Edda is a nondescript spot with adequate (warm clean) rooms, close to town. I'm here for the kayaking and riding. It's been raining hard for hours, looks almost like snow but it's not. Oh, well, I hope not. I have a lovely view of the metal roof but tomorrow am kayaking the two fjords for five hours, and hoping to see the big shouldered mountains which have disappeared behind the mists. Too calm for funny stories lately.
Aug 25th, 2015, 02:39 AM
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Well. Some things have happened. A bit to fill in here. I took a ride after doing the kayaking. Which was lovely.
Unfortunately the next night as I was getting my baggage down the stairs at Hotel Edda, my baggage decided to take off with me attached. I ended up in the Isafjorjur hospital with a fractured pelvis, broken arm, broken wrist, and an egg on my head the size of fist.
The good new is that I was two minutes from the EMTs, who thought it was about as funny as I did.Because it was funny. Good news is that Icelandic health care is excellent. Their hospital food was so good I was sending photos of it home on Facebook. Travel insurance got me home safely.
The funniest bit as that my sports chiro just opened up the CD that was supposed to have all my xrays and cat scan on it. I don't know whose stuff as on there, but it sure wasn't me. I'm still giggling about it.
My new friend Eddi Ben, the man who helped me find the camera, did yeoman's work helping me around town, picking me up at the airport, and getting me everywhere after I got back to Reykjavik. He and his partner took me to dinner, it was simply fantastic, and went a long way towards helping me start the healing process.
I got home last Friday night, and am slowly but surely starting to move around, albeit not very well nor very fast. I loved the Westfjords, but missed out on a lot of things with my aerial maneuvers. It happens. I'm very lucky I didn't break my neck, and also fortunate that it happened seconds from a hospital. All told, it worked out great. Just another adventure.
Unfortunately the next night as I was getting my baggage down the stairs at Hotel Edda, my baggage decided to take off with me attached. I ended up in the Isafjorjur hospital with a fractured pelvis, broken arm, broken wrist, and an egg on my head the size of fist.
The good new is that I was two minutes from the EMTs, who thought it was about as funny as I did.Because it was funny. Good news is that Icelandic health care is excellent. Their hospital food was so good I was sending photos of it home on Facebook. Travel insurance got me home safely.
The funniest bit as that my sports chiro just opened up the CD that was supposed to have all my xrays and cat scan on it. I don't know whose stuff as on there, but it sure wasn't me. I'm still giggling about it.
My new friend Eddi Ben, the man who helped me find the camera, did yeoman's work helping me around town, picking me up at the airport, and getting me everywhere after I got back to Reykjavik. He and his partner took me to dinner, it was simply fantastic, and went a long way towards helping me start the healing process.
I got home last Friday night, and am slowly but surely starting to move around, albeit not very well nor very fast. I loved the Westfjords, but missed out on a lot of things with my aerial maneuvers. It happens. I'm very lucky I didn't break my neck, and also fortunate that it happened seconds from a hospital. All told, it worked out great. Just another adventure.
