Mum's been to Iceland, or "round Iceland with a cucumber"
Sep 3rd, 2008, 11:33 AM
#41
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Nice report... I have just one comment... we did Iceland in October, 2007 and my only comment was that we found the food to be excellent (definitely not cheap, but excellent).
Even when 'forced' to eat at a gas station (because it was the only open place for miles, the hamburgers were freshly made and the fries excellent... some of the restaurants were nothing to look at, but all did an excellent job in both preparation and presentation. We had fish a number of times and it was always first rate.
In addition, the breakfasts at all of the inns, hotels and B&B was great (this having staying in similar places on several continents).
For lunch, we picnic'ed on the road for most meals (were did a lot of hiking, so were never quite sure where we were going to be). Usually consisted of some hardboiled eggs from breakfast, some excellent cheese from the local market, whatever fruit was available (grapes were very good), so local smoked fish or meat, whatever baked goods looked good at the local bakery, and a couple of beers (which were very cheap in the markets). It wasn't 1st class, but the scenery was always great and the dash of our Citroen made a pretty good picnic table.
Even when 'forced' to eat at a gas station (because it was the only open place for miles, the hamburgers were freshly made and the fries excellent... some of the restaurants were nothing to look at, but all did an excellent job in both preparation and presentation. We had fish a number of times and it was always first rate.
In addition, the breakfasts at all of the inns, hotels and B&B was great (this having staying in similar places on several continents).
For lunch, we picnic'ed on the road for most meals (were did a lot of hiking, so were never quite sure where we were going to be). Usually consisted of some hardboiled eggs from breakfast, some excellent cheese from the local market, whatever fruit was available (grapes were very good), so local smoked fish or meat, whatever baked goods looked good at the local bakery, and a couple of beers (which were very cheap in the markets). It wasn't 1st class, but the scenery was always great and the dash of our Citroen made a pretty good picnic table.
Sep 3rd, 2008, 02:08 PM
#42
Hi astein,
nice to hear from you - you were so helpful when I was planning - perhaps I should have taken more notice!
S:
you're right that the breakfasts were consistently good, but we found other food to be variable, to say the least. generally the simpler the better, [soups were great] and most of the supermarket fare we found was downright poor.
you're also right about gas [what we call petrol] stations. unfortunately we rarely found ourselves near one when we needed a meal, but they were a good alternative to what was otherwise available.
sandy and Moolyn - glad you're "listening". I'll try to post the next installment soon.
regards, ann
nice to hear from you - you were so helpful when I was planning - perhaps I should have taken more notice!
S:
you're right that the breakfasts were consistently good, but we found other food to be variable, to say the least. generally the simpler the better, [soups were great] and most of the supermarket fare we found was downright poor.
you're also right about gas [what we call petrol] stations. unfortunately we rarely found ourselves near one when we needed a meal, but they were a good alternative to what was otherwise available.
sandy and Moolyn - glad you're "listening". I'll try to post the next installment soon.
regards, ann
Sep 12th, 2008, 01:08 PM
#43
DAY SIX – It’s along way to Flokalundur [think Tipperary]
Of all the days we had planned, this was one which I had been secretly dreading – a drive of about 400kms, a lot of those over the awful B roads – so that we could end up conveniently placed for our visit to the bird cliffs at Latrabjarg the next day. For all I could tell it might take as many as 10, even 12 hours – all I knew was that it was a B..long way!
So after an early breakfast, packing the car with all our many possessions [including the remaining cucumber still crisp from the guesthouse fridge] and dragging DS away from the guesthouse dogs [a year’s fussing in two days] we were off, initially along a nice A road. This was OK – what was I worrying about?
Anyone who cares to look at the map of Iceland and to find Thingvelllir will see that the only route north lies along the B52 and all too soon, there it was, straight ahead. But look – this is tarmac, no problems at all. Then the sign “mabalik endar” [tarmac finishes] and here’s the gravel, firm at first, then becoming looser, and potholed and then….diversion. Where to? ..who knows? But there was no choice except to go on or to go back, so on it was, mile after mile, past endless heaps of lava, some black, some grey, all dauntingly sterile, until finally we hit the main A road north out of Reykjavik and another choice – a long detour on an A road, or another B..dy stretch til we got to the road we needed. So which would you have taken? – we took to low road, and it was back to gravel and potholes and crossing my fingers against damaging the bottom of the car, until blessed relief, we had done it.
Our route took us past the end of the Snaefellsnes peninsular [our destination after the western fjords whence we were heading] and soon we could see the end of the Hvammsfjordur shining blue to our left as we headed up the coast. By now we needed some petrol and this was out first run-in with the fully automated petrol pump. For this you need a) endless patience, and b) a valid credit card. If you lack either of these essentials you may find that your trip comes to a premature end. First of all, you need to make sure that the pump gives the right sort of petrol – this is reasonably simple. Then you start to interact with the petrol pump. If you are lucky, it “speaks” English, like some ATM machines abroad. You will need to insert your card, put in your pin, decide how much petrol you need [5,6,or 7,000 IKR for example or fill it up] then remove your card, fill up the car and bob’s your uncle. Unless, like me, the machine implacably rejects your card and the very pretty girl from the adjoining café just shakes her head at the ignorance of tourists and goes back to doling out the lamb stew. After a number of attempts [and this was a card I’d used to pay the guesthouse earlier in the day, and which I would use later on too] despite my rising panic I remembered that I’d brought another as a back-up, and hey-presto, it worked. Phew.
By now we needed lunch [200 kms had taken us all morning!] and we rewarded ourselves with some of that stew – and it was very good. Here in the middle of [almost] nowhere, a stunning girl [who spoke faultless English, BTW] and great stew. Then it was back in the car and further and further north, along surprisingly good roads and increasingly lovely scenery, til we reached the fjords. WOW. I’ve never been to Scandanavia, but this is how I imagine it – tiny inlets of blue sea cutting into the hillside, and no people. There were 8 inlets between us and our destination, and truly I didn’t resent any of them. And I even got quite fond of the b…road.
Of all the days we had planned, this was one which I had been secretly dreading – a drive of about 400kms, a lot of those over the awful B roads – so that we could end up conveniently placed for our visit to the bird cliffs at Latrabjarg the next day. For all I could tell it might take as many as 10, even 12 hours – all I knew was that it was a B..long way!
So after an early breakfast, packing the car with all our many possessions [including the remaining cucumber still crisp from the guesthouse fridge] and dragging DS away from the guesthouse dogs [a year’s fussing in two days] we were off, initially along a nice A road. This was OK – what was I worrying about?
Anyone who cares to look at the map of Iceland and to find Thingvelllir will see that the only route north lies along the B52 and all too soon, there it was, straight ahead. But look – this is tarmac, no problems at all. Then the sign “mabalik endar” [tarmac finishes] and here’s the gravel, firm at first, then becoming looser, and potholed and then….diversion. Where to? ..who knows? But there was no choice except to go on or to go back, so on it was, mile after mile, past endless heaps of lava, some black, some grey, all dauntingly sterile, until finally we hit the main A road north out of Reykjavik and another choice – a long detour on an A road, or another B..dy stretch til we got to the road we needed. So which would you have taken? – we took to low road, and it was back to gravel and potholes and crossing my fingers against damaging the bottom of the car, until blessed relief, we had done it.
Our route took us past the end of the Snaefellsnes peninsular [our destination after the western fjords whence we were heading] and soon we could see the end of the Hvammsfjordur shining blue to our left as we headed up the coast. By now we needed some petrol and this was out first run-in with the fully automated petrol pump. For this you need a) endless patience, and b) a valid credit card. If you lack either of these essentials you may find that your trip comes to a premature end. First of all, you need to make sure that the pump gives the right sort of petrol – this is reasonably simple. Then you start to interact with the petrol pump. If you are lucky, it “speaks” English, like some ATM machines abroad. You will need to insert your card, put in your pin, decide how much petrol you need [5,6,or 7,000 IKR for example or fill it up] then remove your card, fill up the car and bob’s your uncle. Unless, like me, the machine implacably rejects your card and the very pretty girl from the adjoining café just shakes her head at the ignorance of tourists and goes back to doling out the lamb stew. After a number of attempts [and this was a card I’d used to pay the guesthouse earlier in the day, and which I would use later on too] despite my rising panic I remembered that I’d brought another as a back-up, and hey-presto, it worked. Phew.
By now we needed lunch [200 kms had taken us all morning!] and we rewarded ourselves with some of that stew – and it was very good. Here in the middle of [almost] nowhere, a stunning girl [who spoke faultless English, BTW] and great stew. Then it was back in the car and further and further north, along surprisingly good roads and increasingly lovely scenery, til we reached the fjords. WOW. I’ve never been to Scandanavia, but this is how I imagine it – tiny inlets of blue sea cutting into the hillside, and no people. There were 8 inlets between us and our destination, and truly I didn’t resent any of them. And I even got quite fond of the b…road.
Sep 13th, 2008, 09:22 AM
#45
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Hi annhig, I'm absolutely sure I will never visit Iceland, so reading your report makes me feels as if I have been there. I love your writing! It's a hoot. I've been saying "Bob's your uncle" for a while now, since I heard Russell Crowe say it, and none of my US friends know what it means. Can't wait to read the next installment. Thanks for sharing your wit with us.
Maggi
Maggi
Sep 13th, 2008, 09:51 AM
#46
Hi moolyn & maggie,
as ever, thanks for the encouragement. the plan had been to finish the trip report before DH and I go away to Brittany for a few days next week, leaving DD and DS in charge!!! but life and lawn-mowing [a bit of an obsession with me, according to the family] have intervened.
any way, lets try to finish Day 6.
regards, ann
as ever, thanks for the encouragement. the plan had been to finish the trip report before DH and I go away to Brittany for a few days next week, leaving DD and DS in charge!!! but life and lawn-mowing [a bit of an obsession with me, according to the family] have intervened.
any way, lets try to finish Day 6.
regards, ann
Sep 13th, 2008, 10:15 AM
#47
DAY 6 [cont]
when we were plannnig the trip, it had been a toss-up between trying to get all the way round Iceland and visiting the western fjords and rightly or wrongly the latrabjarg bird cliffs swung it for us. but where to stay? in this area there is little enough choice and in the end we'd opted for the hotel flokalundur, mainly because of its proximity to the ferry port which wuld take us over to the snaefellsness peninsular on the way back south to Reykjavik.
we'd been warned by our guide book that it was not a thing of beauty [frankly, few icelandic hotels or indeed buildings are] and we weren't disappointed. low and flat, with a long corridor of bedrooms leading off the main building, it did exactly what it said on the tin. but it was clean and comfortable, and we had adjourning rooms right at the end of said corridor, with access onto a lovely west-facing balcony, where we soon found ourselves drinking richly deserved beers out of our rapidly reducing store, watching the sun still amazingly high in the sky even at 7pm.
In a place like this, dinner is inevitably to be found in the hotel, so at about 7.30 we made for the restaurant. what to have? I can't remember what it was to be frank, except that DS insisted on trying the marinated guillimot [lucky he wasn't too hungry that night] and for Iceland it was reasonably good value. and as ever included endless coffee.
after dinner we thought a walk would be good, and armed with our walks laflet from reception, we headed off to try to find the tiny lake which was allegedly about 2kms away. which is a hint that of course we never found it, though we did find a lovely waterfall up above the hotel, and got thoroughly hot and bothered in the process. At which point, it being only 10pm, DS decided he wanted a swim in the sea and to the amusement of a party of germans who'd nicked our places on the balcony to watch the sunset [they were in for quite a wait] DS and his speedos took to the water. Which to judge by the colour he was when he came out, was quite cold. Shame he doesn't like armagnac - we had to drink his share ourselves.
Tomorrow - we visit puffin city.
when we were plannnig the trip, it had been a toss-up between trying to get all the way round Iceland and visiting the western fjords and rightly or wrongly the latrabjarg bird cliffs swung it for us. but where to stay? in this area there is little enough choice and in the end we'd opted for the hotel flokalundur, mainly because of its proximity to the ferry port which wuld take us over to the snaefellsness peninsular on the way back south to Reykjavik.
we'd been warned by our guide book that it was not a thing of beauty [frankly, few icelandic hotels or indeed buildings are] and we weren't disappointed. low and flat, with a long corridor of bedrooms leading off the main building, it did exactly what it said on the tin. but it was clean and comfortable, and we had adjourning rooms right at the end of said corridor, with access onto a lovely west-facing balcony, where we soon found ourselves drinking richly deserved beers out of our rapidly reducing store, watching the sun still amazingly high in the sky even at 7pm.
In a place like this, dinner is inevitably to be found in the hotel, so at about 7.30 we made for the restaurant. what to have? I can't remember what it was to be frank, except that DS insisted on trying the marinated guillimot [lucky he wasn't too hungry that night] and for Iceland it was reasonably good value. and as ever included endless coffee.
after dinner we thought a walk would be good, and armed with our walks laflet from reception, we headed off to try to find the tiny lake which was allegedly about 2kms away. which is a hint that of course we never found it, though we did find a lovely waterfall up above the hotel, and got thoroughly hot and bothered in the process. At which point, it being only 10pm, DS decided he wanted a swim in the sea and to the amusement of a party of germans who'd nicked our places on the balcony to watch the sunset [they were in for quite a wait] DS and his speedos took to the water. Which to judge by the colour he was when he came out, was quite cold. Shame he doesn't like armagnac - we had to drink his share ourselves.
Tomorrow - we visit puffin city.
Sep 13th, 2008, 12:44 PM
#48
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Hi there Annhig, nice to read your report. (& thanks for all your lovely comments and help while planning our last trip and also for reading my attempt at a trip report! which I 'will' finish)
Iceland wasn't really ever on 'our' list, must say it still isn't, but am enjoying your 'saga', love the worts and all approach, if we want the 'glossed' over version we can read travel brochures.
Looking forward to more. AD
Iceland wasn't really ever on 'our' list, must say it still isn't, but am enjoying your 'saga', love the worts and all approach, if we want the 'glossed' over version we can read travel brochures.
Looking forward to more. AD
Sep 13th, 2008, 01:59 PM
#49
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annhig This was the best part of my day! Reading your trip report. You all are such supertroopers. Iceland is not my thing, but damn I'm living it through you.
I am totally at lost about the drowning of miscreants and I'm looking it up online right now, hopefully I'll get some info about it. Otherwise it'll bug me all night.
Great job with your report, I love the twist you Brits put on things.
Theresa in Detroit
I am totally at lost about the drowning of miscreants and I'm looking it up online right now, hopefully I'll get some info about it. Otherwise it'll bug me all night.
Great job with your report, I love the twist you Brits put on things.
Theresa in Detroit
Sep 13th, 2008, 10:57 PM
#50
hi again,
AD - it was a pleasure and I'm very much enjoying reading your take on GB.
what was it Rabbie burns said?
"haw to god the gift he gee us, to see ourselves as others see us". [with apologies for misquotation and poor transcription of the scots]
Mawmaw <<I am totally at lost about the drowning of miscreants and I'm looking it up online right now, hopefully I'll get some info about it>>
?????
at a loss about which bit?
nice to hear from you BTW and hope you got some sleep. your comments are very encouraging.
unfortunately I now have to do some WORK.
:-<
regards, ann
AD - it was a pleasure and I'm very much enjoying reading your take on GB.
what was it Rabbie burns said?
"haw to god the gift he gee us, to see ourselves as others see us". [with apologies for misquotation and poor transcription of the scots]
Mawmaw <<I am totally at lost about the drowning of miscreants and I'm looking it up online right now, hopefully I'll get some info about it>>
?????
at a loss about which bit?
nice to hear from you BTW and hope you got some sleep. your comments are very encouraging.
unfortunately I now have to do some WORK.
:-<
regards, ann
Sep 15th, 2008, 06:50 AM
#51
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ann sorry I didn't understand the whole drowning miscreants, I didn't realize it had to do with drowning bad people for doing bad things. I get it now. I can't wait to read more, so hint hint MORE PLEASE.
Sep 22nd, 2008, 08:49 AM
#53
Hi Mamaw,
sorry i was so opaque!
actually i doubt that these were bad people at all, many were adulterous [allegedly] women, "witches" etc. etc.
we have now returned from our short-break in France, so normal service should be resumed shortly.
regards, ann
sorry i was so opaque!
actually i doubt that these were bad people at all, many were adulterous [allegedly] women, "witches" etc. etc.
we have now returned from our short-break in France, so normal service should be resumed shortly.
regards, ann
Sep 22nd, 2008, 01:48 PM
#55
DAY SEVEN
How many times have you REEAALLY looked forward to a part of your trip, only to have it let you down like a damp squib? Especially when other bits haven’t exactly come up to scratch. Well, I’d been hanging my hopes on this day that it would be the highlight of the holiday, and for once, it turned out to be just that - well, one of them, anyway.
The whole point of coming all this way had been to see the bird cliffs at Latrabjarg, [the most westerly point of Europe] and from where we were staying we still had a two hour drive to get there. More fjords, more lava, more b..roads..and finally we were there. And not alone. A car park full of cars, a light-house, and cliffs covered in several hundred thousand nesting, flying, screaming, birds – kittiwakes, razor-bills, guillemots, and best of all, puffins.
At first we couldn’t see them – how can you not see what’s under your nose? [and in it, to be frank – that number of birds are pretty smelly as well as noisy]. Then one by one they emerged from their nests and we realised that the tops of the cliffs were riddled with their tunnels, where they hide the babies before they fledge. A real city of puffins. The best view [and safest, given the height of the cliffs] was obtained by lying on the edge and looking over. That way you could observe their coming and goings from only a few feet away, with seemingly no effect on the puffins – they are the tamest of the birds on the cliffs, and carry on their lives completely unmoved by their observers. It was a bit like watching a soap opera on telly – a puffin would pop out of its burrow, have a little look round, make that lovely little puffin croak or grunt that they have, then pop off the ledge, to be replaced by another with a beak full of fish which would be duly delivered into another near-by burrow. I suppose that we must have spent a good hour in this way, before DH decided he’d got enough puffin pictures, and we’d got quite stiff from lying on our tummies. And decided that we were hungry, too, and no-one was going to be flying out to see to bring us a beakful of fish.
On the way out to the cliffs, we’d noticed a guest-house at Breidavik which is not far from the cliffs, [possibly the last loo stop] and despite the fact that they have a bit of a captive audience, it turned out to be quite a decent place – and might make a good over-night stop if you wanted to be as close as possible to the birds, not a mention a beautiful and almost deserted beach near-by. Coffee would be good we thought – 3 coffees please – “yes – it’s over there – help yourselves, it’s free”. Regrettably, the soup and beer weren’t free, but they were quite reasonable [for Iceland] and we were able to sit in the sun and drink our [free!!!] coffee after our lunch of oxtail [NOT lamb] soup and bread rolls.
The plan had been to find somewhere to swim on the way back, but we were thwarted by the tide – much to the disgust of DS who got a severe attack of the grumps and spent the rest of the long drive back complaining about not being allowed to swim on the way there. And he was right of course. But there wasn’t much we could do about it then. We did find some amusement at the folk museum at Hnjotur, which is named after Egill Olafsson who assembled a huge collection of local artifacts, from hunting, shooting and fishing, to “Icelandic operating theatres through the ages”! and when we got back, the tide had come back in enough for DS not to have to walk out too far to get a decent dip. But it wasn’t the same as some of the beautiful beaches we’d seen on the way out to the cliffs. Sorry, DS!
To end off a pretty good day, we went for the fish and chips off the “a la carte” menu – which turned out to be really good and remarkably good value, at only £15 each. [only twice what it would have been at home!] and then sat on the balcony with a beer and watched the sun set VERY slowly.
Tomorrow – the ups, and downs, of internet travel.
How many times have you REEAALLY looked forward to a part of your trip, only to have it let you down like a damp squib? Especially when other bits haven’t exactly come up to scratch. Well, I’d been hanging my hopes on this day that it would be the highlight of the holiday, and for once, it turned out to be just that - well, one of them, anyway.
The whole point of coming all this way had been to see the bird cliffs at Latrabjarg, [the most westerly point of Europe] and from where we were staying we still had a two hour drive to get there. More fjords, more lava, more b..roads..and finally we were there. And not alone. A car park full of cars, a light-house, and cliffs covered in several hundred thousand nesting, flying, screaming, birds – kittiwakes, razor-bills, guillemots, and best of all, puffins.
At first we couldn’t see them – how can you not see what’s under your nose? [and in it, to be frank – that number of birds are pretty smelly as well as noisy]. Then one by one they emerged from their nests and we realised that the tops of the cliffs were riddled with their tunnels, where they hide the babies before they fledge. A real city of puffins. The best view [and safest, given the height of the cliffs] was obtained by lying on the edge and looking over. That way you could observe their coming and goings from only a few feet away, with seemingly no effect on the puffins – they are the tamest of the birds on the cliffs, and carry on their lives completely unmoved by their observers. It was a bit like watching a soap opera on telly – a puffin would pop out of its burrow, have a little look round, make that lovely little puffin croak or grunt that they have, then pop off the ledge, to be replaced by another with a beak full of fish which would be duly delivered into another near-by burrow. I suppose that we must have spent a good hour in this way, before DH decided he’d got enough puffin pictures, and we’d got quite stiff from lying on our tummies. And decided that we were hungry, too, and no-one was going to be flying out to see to bring us a beakful of fish.
On the way out to the cliffs, we’d noticed a guest-house at Breidavik which is not far from the cliffs, [possibly the last loo stop] and despite the fact that they have a bit of a captive audience, it turned out to be quite a decent place – and might make a good over-night stop if you wanted to be as close as possible to the birds, not a mention a beautiful and almost deserted beach near-by. Coffee would be good we thought – 3 coffees please – “yes – it’s over there – help yourselves, it’s free”. Regrettably, the soup and beer weren’t free, but they were quite reasonable [for Iceland] and we were able to sit in the sun and drink our [free!!!] coffee after our lunch of oxtail [NOT lamb] soup and bread rolls.
The plan had been to find somewhere to swim on the way back, but we were thwarted by the tide – much to the disgust of DS who got a severe attack of the grumps and spent the rest of the long drive back complaining about not being allowed to swim on the way there. And he was right of course. But there wasn’t much we could do about it then. We did find some amusement at the folk museum at Hnjotur, which is named after Egill Olafsson who assembled a huge collection of local artifacts, from hunting, shooting and fishing, to “Icelandic operating theatres through the ages”! and when we got back, the tide had come back in enough for DS not to have to walk out too far to get a decent dip. But it wasn’t the same as some of the beautiful beaches we’d seen on the way out to the cliffs. Sorry, DS!
To end off a pretty good day, we went for the fish and chips off the “a la carte” menu – which turned out to be really good and remarkably good value, at only £15 each. [only twice what it would have been at home!] and then sat on the balcony with a beer and watched the sun set VERY slowly.
Tomorrow – the ups, and downs, of internet travel.
Sep 25th, 2008, 09:12 AM
#57
DAY EIGHT
After another typical guest-house breakfast, [cereal, breads, eggs, meat, cheese, and endless coffee or tea] and packing the car [including the now somewhat limp cucumber, but as we were due to be self-catering again it might come in useful] we had a couple of hours to kill before the ferry would take us back across the fjord to the snaefellnes peninsular, where we’d booked another “summerhouse” for three nights. The ferry-port was only 6 kms from the hotel and really there wasn’t a lot to do in those 6kms, but we pootled about, and drove up in good time to pick up our tickets [booked in advance on the internet on www.seatours.is getting a 10% discount on the fares of ikr 2190 per car and 2190 per person, total about £80 for us and the car – slightly more than the tankful of petrol the driving would have cost us but a huge saving in time and effort] and boarded the boat.
Whereas the previous day had been marked down in my mind as one of the potential highlights, being a not particularly good sailor [in fact a very bad one, I’ve been sea-sick on dry land before now, as has DD] I’d been dreading this day, even though it was a much better choice than another 300 mile drive round those b..roads again. We were soon ensconced on the upper deck with jumpers, macs and sea-sickness tablets [just in case] though as DH pointed out, it was flat calm very warm and sunny. The trip takes about 3 hours, including 30 mins or so while it puts into the island of Flatey [human population approx 50, bird population several 100,000] and I needn’t have worried - it proved to be a real joy. The day before we’d seen the puffins mainly on land or taking off from the cliffs, now we were able to watch them skim across the surface of the sea like little black torpedos - and so many of them. Plus terns, razor-bills, guillimots, and various ducks that we couldn’t identify. This must be the first sea-trip that I can remember being sorry when it came to an end.
The boat docks at the unspellable and unpronounceable town of Stykkisholmur, and we spent a couple of hours looking round the “ Norska house” set up as a C19 home, and the rather strange “museum of water” which evinced in us the same reaction as the Tate pile of bricks – it may be art, but not as we know it. We’d eaten on the boat [a shame, the cafes of this place looked particularly good] so by 3pm or so it was time to try to find our summerhouse, about 30 miles west near Grundafjordur – another small port on the north coast. On the web-site [www.simnet.is/kverna] the place looked fine – quite a large chalet in a quiet spot on a horse-farm – perfect. That fact that it was not part of the Farm Holidays organisation should have alerted us [ok, me] as should the price – at 10,000 IKR a night significantly cheaper than others but I put that down to the slightly out of the way position. Well, as soon as we got there, we saw the first problem – from one direction [the one from which all the photos had been taken] the view was of hills and waterfalls, from the other there was a nice view of a spoil heap. And the adjoining builder’s yard and road.
Oh well – we’ll be out most of the time [wise words]. The next problem was finding the owner. The main house seemed deserted, but eventually we raised a recalcitrant youth who said he knew nothing about anything especially not any holiday cottages. [more wise words, we should have read between the lines]. Between the main house and the road we could see some tents and in amongst them a couple of wooden shacks so we made for them, eventually finding the owner apparently cleaning one of them out. And the awful truth began to dawn [not soon enough you may think] – this was what we had booked.
Please do not get the idea that we are particularly picky or fussy people. The first summerhouse, whilst not luxurious by any means, had some privacy, a fully equipped kitchen, conveniently placed light switches, somewhere to sit besides dining tables and chairs crammed into all the available living space, and beds in which it was possible to sit up! This one lacked all those, and more. What it did have [and the true awfulness of this did not strike us until later] was a separate section at the rear which comprised the campers’ ablutions. To the right were their sinks, and to the left their electricity points to plug in a kettle for example [to this extent they were better off than us!]
What we should have done was to have a good look round and then run away. What we did was to glance about, and leaving the owner to continue “cleaning” we went off to buy some provisions. Another disaster. Grundarfjordur boasted only one supermarket and the amount of fresh food on sale there was limited. The only meat was either salted or frozen [possibly both]. Where do Icelanders buy fresh meat? Or poultry? We never found out. Eventually I found what I thought were pork chops which I purchased at huge expense. Plus some frozen potato things. And a few other bits and bobs to stretch our dwindling supplies to last us for the next 3 days.
Then it was back to the farm, when its many imperfections became more apparent. By now, a lot more caravaners and campers had arrived and they were busy using the facilities so conveniently positioned by and at the back of our “hut”. Indeed one wanted to use OUR shower [the only decent part] and looked quite affronted when we refused her entry. But we were stuck there with all this food so I’d better start cooking, while the family sort out the beds. [patience, I’ll get to the sleeping facilities in a while]. Hmmm – no cooker, just two hot plates integral to the sink and a microwave, all lit by an angle-poise lamp precariously fastened to the work-top. And the pork chops – oh no, not pork but ham – DS’s particular hate. And how am I going to cook this lot with only two very slow rings and a couple of burnt frying pans? And NO kettle. You do not want to know how long it took to make a cup of tea [whilst DH nobly went back down to the town and managed to find some eggs for DS to eat] and to cook those ham chops. And the potato things. By which time the ice-cream [which wouldn’t fit into the frosted up ice-compartment] was pretty soggy.
Did I tell you that when we’d come back from out shopping expedition, mein host had invited us over for a drink after supper? Despite the many failings of our accommodation, being British we though it would be rude not to go, so at nineish we made our way over to the main house, to find that some lucky! people were having supper indoors so we were invited into his inner sanctum. After tea all round [we weren’t offered coffee as being British, he’d assumed we’d prefer tea] there was a surprise for us, apparently. A little dish was offered round – [I could see DS’s eyes lighting up – sweets, or chocolates, perhaps?] no – Bible verses. Yes – that’s right – Sam 1 v 10. [or whatever]. And an English bible conveniently provided.
Could things get any worse? [well yes they could but you’ll have to be patient again to find out how!]. As a family of more of less confirmed atheists [and DS being someone who finds an argument almost impossible to resist] how to extract ourselves from this predicament was upmost in my mind. To the puzzlement but eventual amusement of the family I found that I had developed an intense interest in Icelandic agriculture and for the next half-hour, every time our host started looking at the Bible, I asked another question about sheep production or fishing conservation. And having bored him into submission, and drunk his tea, we were able to make our excuses and leave.
And so to bed – or rather, a selection of no less than 7 beds and mattresses crammed into the attic of our shack so closely that you could barely walk between them. With a central light switch accessible from none of them, at the top of a rickerty ladder down to the ground floor loo, which was a great discouragement to night-time visits. The beds themselves were not that uncomfortable, but the inability to sit up in bed due to the proximity of the attic ceiling did not improve things. I suppose that we eventually dropped off, [the kids, who were up the other end of the same attic room certainly did as we could tell by their gentle snoring] but we were all too soon awoken by the happy campers near-by making an early start, and using the toilets which were positioned immediately below my and DH’s beds. These 6am ablutions were made all the more intolerable by the endless banging of car doors and the incomprehensible running commentary in Icelandic kept up by the male of the party. Had I known any Icelandic oaths, I might have used them. As it was, their doings had a sort of frustrating fascination. Had we had any doubt about whether or not to stay on, they had helpfully made up our minds for us.
Finally, at about 7.30am , they took off, and wordlessly, DH and I made a decision to do the same. ASAP. Relieved to be getting up, [I had to get up to be able to read the guide book with the list of accommodation in it anyway,] whilst DH set about breakfast, I got the map and the list, and as soon as I decently could set about phoning likely hotels. As might be expected for July and High season, most were full for one of other of the nights we needed, but with the fifth call I struck lucky, and found that the Hotel Glymur down towards Reykjavik had two rooms for two nights. Thank goodness for credit cards. All right, it was more expensive than we’d wanted, but we were NOT in the mood for roughing it any more and we wanted to get right away from this horrible place. I let the kids know the good news, and DH used the only decent pan to make a huge plate of scrambled eggs [we’d bought 10 to last us the three days!] which with the remaining ham from last night went down nicely. Then DH packed the car whilst the kids and I tried to put all the furniture back where we found it [having had to move it to make room for us!] and I left the owner the money we owed him for one night plus a frank note to tell him why we were leaving. All this was done only just in time as the last item [not the cucumber sadly, it was well past its best and was left behind] went into the car, the owner could be seen approaching on his bike as he went round the campers to take their money.
Should we have stayed behind to explain? Well, rather like naughty schoolchildren we ran [or rather drove] away as fast as we could, grumbling at ourselves at having not left straight away the night before, and laughing with relief at having escaped.
Next – disaster [almost] strikes.
After another typical guest-house breakfast, [cereal, breads, eggs, meat, cheese, and endless coffee or tea] and packing the car [including the now somewhat limp cucumber, but as we were due to be self-catering again it might come in useful] we had a couple of hours to kill before the ferry would take us back across the fjord to the snaefellnes peninsular, where we’d booked another “summerhouse” for three nights. The ferry-port was only 6 kms from the hotel and really there wasn’t a lot to do in those 6kms, but we pootled about, and drove up in good time to pick up our tickets [booked in advance on the internet on www.seatours.is getting a 10% discount on the fares of ikr 2190 per car and 2190 per person, total about £80 for us and the car – slightly more than the tankful of petrol the driving would have cost us but a huge saving in time and effort] and boarded the boat.
Whereas the previous day had been marked down in my mind as one of the potential highlights, being a not particularly good sailor [in fact a very bad one, I’ve been sea-sick on dry land before now, as has DD] I’d been dreading this day, even though it was a much better choice than another 300 mile drive round those b..roads again. We were soon ensconced on the upper deck with jumpers, macs and sea-sickness tablets [just in case] though as DH pointed out, it was flat calm very warm and sunny. The trip takes about 3 hours, including 30 mins or so while it puts into the island of Flatey [human population approx 50, bird population several 100,000] and I needn’t have worried - it proved to be a real joy. The day before we’d seen the puffins mainly on land or taking off from the cliffs, now we were able to watch them skim across the surface of the sea like little black torpedos - and so many of them. Plus terns, razor-bills, guillimots, and various ducks that we couldn’t identify. This must be the first sea-trip that I can remember being sorry when it came to an end.
The boat docks at the unspellable and unpronounceable town of Stykkisholmur, and we spent a couple of hours looking round the “ Norska house” set up as a C19 home, and the rather strange “museum of water” which evinced in us the same reaction as the Tate pile of bricks – it may be art, but not as we know it. We’d eaten on the boat [a shame, the cafes of this place looked particularly good] so by 3pm or so it was time to try to find our summerhouse, about 30 miles west near Grundafjordur – another small port on the north coast. On the web-site [www.simnet.is/kverna] the place looked fine – quite a large chalet in a quiet spot on a horse-farm – perfect. That fact that it was not part of the Farm Holidays organisation should have alerted us [ok, me] as should the price – at 10,000 IKR a night significantly cheaper than others but I put that down to the slightly out of the way position. Well, as soon as we got there, we saw the first problem – from one direction [the one from which all the photos had been taken] the view was of hills and waterfalls, from the other there was a nice view of a spoil heap. And the adjoining builder’s yard and road.
Oh well – we’ll be out most of the time [wise words]. The next problem was finding the owner. The main house seemed deserted, but eventually we raised a recalcitrant youth who said he knew nothing about anything especially not any holiday cottages. [more wise words, we should have read between the lines]. Between the main house and the road we could see some tents and in amongst them a couple of wooden shacks so we made for them, eventually finding the owner apparently cleaning one of them out. And the awful truth began to dawn [not soon enough you may think] – this was what we had booked.
Please do not get the idea that we are particularly picky or fussy people. The first summerhouse, whilst not luxurious by any means, had some privacy, a fully equipped kitchen, conveniently placed light switches, somewhere to sit besides dining tables and chairs crammed into all the available living space, and beds in which it was possible to sit up! This one lacked all those, and more. What it did have [and the true awfulness of this did not strike us until later] was a separate section at the rear which comprised the campers’ ablutions. To the right were their sinks, and to the left their electricity points to plug in a kettle for example [to this extent they were better off than us!]
What we should have done was to have a good look round and then run away. What we did was to glance about, and leaving the owner to continue “cleaning” we went off to buy some provisions. Another disaster. Grundarfjordur boasted only one supermarket and the amount of fresh food on sale there was limited. The only meat was either salted or frozen [possibly both]. Where do Icelanders buy fresh meat? Or poultry? We never found out. Eventually I found what I thought were pork chops which I purchased at huge expense. Plus some frozen potato things. And a few other bits and bobs to stretch our dwindling supplies to last us for the next 3 days.
Then it was back to the farm, when its many imperfections became more apparent. By now, a lot more caravaners and campers had arrived and they were busy using the facilities so conveniently positioned by and at the back of our “hut”. Indeed one wanted to use OUR shower [the only decent part] and looked quite affronted when we refused her entry. But we were stuck there with all this food so I’d better start cooking, while the family sort out the beds. [patience, I’ll get to the sleeping facilities in a while]. Hmmm – no cooker, just two hot plates integral to the sink and a microwave, all lit by an angle-poise lamp precariously fastened to the work-top. And the pork chops – oh no, not pork but ham – DS’s particular hate. And how am I going to cook this lot with only two very slow rings and a couple of burnt frying pans? And NO kettle. You do not want to know how long it took to make a cup of tea [whilst DH nobly went back down to the town and managed to find some eggs for DS to eat] and to cook those ham chops. And the potato things. By which time the ice-cream [which wouldn’t fit into the frosted up ice-compartment] was pretty soggy.
Did I tell you that when we’d come back from out shopping expedition, mein host had invited us over for a drink after supper? Despite the many failings of our accommodation, being British we though it would be rude not to go, so at nineish we made our way over to the main house, to find that some lucky! people were having supper indoors so we were invited into his inner sanctum. After tea all round [we weren’t offered coffee as being British, he’d assumed we’d prefer tea] there was a surprise for us, apparently. A little dish was offered round – [I could see DS’s eyes lighting up – sweets, or chocolates, perhaps?] no – Bible verses. Yes – that’s right – Sam 1 v 10. [or whatever]. And an English bible conveniently provided.
Could things get any worse? [well yes they could but you’ll have to be patient again to find out how!]. As a family of more of less confirmed atheists [and DS being someone who finds an argument almost impossible to resist] how to extract ourselves from this predicament was upmost in my mind. To the puzzlement but eventual amusement of the family I found that I had developed an intense interest in Icelandic agriculture and for the next half-hour, every time our host started looking at the Bible, I asked another question about sheep production or fishing conservation. And having bored him into submission, and drunk his tea, we were able to make our excuses and leave.
And so to bed – or rather, a selection of no less than 7 beds and mattresses crammed into the attic of our shack so closely that you could barely walk between them. With a central light switch accessible from none of them, at the top of a rickerty ladder down to the ground floor loo, which was a great discouragement to night-time visits. The beds themselves were not that uncomfortable, but the inability to sit up in bed due to the proximity of the attic ceiling did not improve things. I suppose that we eventually dropped off, [the kids, who were up the other end of the same attic room certainly did as we could tell by their gentle snoring] but we were all too soon awoken by the happy campers near-by making an early start, and using the toilets which were positioned immediately below my and DH’s beds. These 6am ablutions were made all the more intolerable by the endless banging of car doors and the incomprehensible running commentary in Icelandic kept up by the male of the party. Had I known any Icelandic oaths, I might have used them. As it was, their doings had a sort of frustrating fascination. Had we had any doubt about whether or not to stay on, they had helpfully made up our minds for us.
Finally, at about 7.30am , they took off, and wordlessly, DH and I made a decision to do the same. ASAP. Relieved to be getting up, [I had to get up to be able to read the guide book with the list of accommodation in it anyway,] whilst DH set about breakfast, I got the map and the list, and as soon as I decently could set about phoning likely hotels. As might be expected for July and High season, most were full for one of other of the nights we needed, but with the fifth call I struck lucky, and found that the Hotel Glymur down towards Reykjavik had two rooms for two nights. Thank goodness for credit cards. All right, it was more expensive than we’d wanted, but we were NOT in the mood for roughing it any more and we wanted to get right away from this horrible place. I let the kids know the good news, and DH used the only decent pan to make a huge plate of scrambled eggs [we’d bought 10 to last us the three days!] which with the remaining ham from last night went down nicely. Then DH packed the car whilst the kids and I tried to put all the furniture back where we found it [having had to move it to make room for us!] and I left the owner the money we owed him for one night plus a frank note to tell him why we were leaving. All this was done only just in time as the last item [not the cucumber sadly, it was well past its best and was left behind] went into the car, the owner could be seen approaching on his bike as he went round the campers to take their money.
Should we have stayed behind to explain? Well, rather like naughty schoolchildren we ran [or rather drove] away as fast as we could, grumbling at ourselves at having not left straight away the night before, and laughing with relief at having escaped.
Next – disaster [almost] strikes.
Sep 25th, 2008, 11:11 AM
#59
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Ann,
I have to say I've enjoyed reading your report from two perspectives.
1st, the storytelling is excellent and you've kept me quite amused.
2nd, it's allowed me to revel in the skill (or, more likely, luck!?!) that led me to 7 different inns/guesthouses in Iceland without any experiences that would have me fleeing down the road at high rates of speed!
Granted, we traveled in October. This meant that while some places were closed, we were the only patrons at 1/2 of the places we stayed. This meant do backpackers, caravans, etc.
I have to say I've enjoyed reading your report from two perspectives.
1st, the storytelling is excellent and you've kept me quite amused.
2nd, it's allowed me to revel in the skill (or, more likely, luck!?!) that led me to 7 different inns/guesthouses in Iceland without any experiences that would have me fleeing down the road at high rates of speed!
Granted, we traveled in October. This meant that while some places were closed, we were the only patrons at 1/2 of the places we stayed. This meant do backpackers, caravans, etc.
