Things to love about Iceland

Several people asked me why I wanted to go to Iceland. I saw a film made by Sigur Ros years ago called Heima and knew it was a place I wanted to visit.

Now that I’ve been, I can say exactly why:

The endless changing vistas of sights never before seen and not to be seen anywhere else on earth.

So many unique ecosystems within kilometers of another.

So many waterfalls that most don’t even have a name.

Landscapes as if the Trinity had a jolly good creative time.

The lupine–bluebonnets on steroids.

Mountains. Deserts. Oceans. Geysers. Glaciers. Iceberg lagoons.

Moss covered rocks. Black sand. Painted mountainsides.

Sheep. Black. White. Striped. Spotted. Frolicking lambs that come in pairs.

Colors in nature with unique brightness and hues and layers and textures.

Weather literally changing within seconds and minutes from snow to sun to rain to wind.

Reindeer and puffins.

Skyrr.

The bread.

Waffles for breakfast.

Chocolate squares served with hot drinks.

Espresso available in the most unlikely places.

Containers of water always on the table at meals

Water so pure that no one who lives here would think of buying bottled water.

Surprises of art, particularly murals and sculptures, in the most unexpected places.

The clear love of beauty expressed in the most quotidian details of everyday life.

Speaking of everyday life, the WC’s are the cleanest, warmest I’ve ever been in; even at camping grounds and gas stations, no matter how remote.

Wifi in every building. Generous placement of electric outlets.

People willing to speak English.

Since we only drove half the Ring Road, south and east and back, planned that way in order to get better May weather (which we did) and to be able to see where we’d been, and have a second chance to do and see, we’ve already talked about returning, this time going west and north.

But now, the trip home begins.

One rainy day of enough

It is my final full day in Iceland. Today is a road trip from Vik to KEF outside Reyjkavik–a three hour drive for most folks, but of course my friend and I love to meander.

It’s a rainy day. This is the weather we expected, but today is the first day we’ve had this much rain. Less hiking, less photographing, but still enough.

Despite the rain, we made two quick walks to stunning waterfalls. Enough.

In this land of plenteous sheep, yarn is the only bargain (except, of course, God’s artwork). I even found yarn in the grocery store! Still enough.

This is the first day that I found what I had expected to find everywhere–local yarn, hand spun and hand dyed. Yet more enough.

I’d also expected, in this land of frequent and abundant art in the most unlikely places, to find (too) many opportunities for my favorite craft, pottery. The small amount I found was very dear. Today, however, at a morning cappacino stop in a small town, I found my Iceland cup to bring home. Thank you to the parishioner who gave me a gift of money for my trip that enabled me to do this. Generously enough.

We stopped for a late lunch in Selfoss at the kind of spot I expected to find often, and have only today found. A place with soup and bread and hot tea and locals gathering. Deliciously enough.

Six hours after we began our three hour drive to the airport hotel, the GPS says that it’s little over an hour drive left to go.

I’ll see how much more enough there is before we arrive at tonight’s destination.

Puffins!!!!

When I came to Iceland, one of the hoping to dos at the top of my list was to see puffins. I’d seen puffins once before in Maine years ago, riding out on a tour boat to see them diving and flying. On the drive back, I had stopped at an artist’s studio where a woman met with me to design and then create my white Corination stole. That stole has the memory of that day in Maine stitched into it.

Opportunities to see puffins, at least promoted as such, are everywhere in Iceland–from one that is an hour express excursion from the Reyjkavik marina to another which is a hayride out to a slippery slope.

The place I’d hoped to go, a good hike in a wildlife refuge, was closed because of nesting season. I’ve traveled enough with a desire to see wildlife that I know that animals and birds are on their own schedule and not mine, and so seeing them is always at best happenstance.

On Saturday night I was reading about things to do in the area, and I came across a blog that mentioned a promontory a two hour drive one fjord up where a flock of puffins lived. My friend and I were ready for another adventure.

We were on the road right after breakfast. The sights along the way, at what felt like the top of the world, were the most spectacular yet in an already spectacular trip.

Borganes Estuary had clear signs pointing the way to the puffins’ home. As I walked up the hill, I immediately saw a flock swimming in the water. Then I realized that the hill was dotted with holes where the puffins lived, and one after one after one, they popped their heads out and emerged, as if to pose for delighted humans.

The best part of my visit with the puffins was sitting in the car eating my picnic lunch. Dozens of puffins literally whizzed by my window on their way from their homes on high to fishing for their lunch in the sea.

I was reminded of a book I read my children and now my grandchildren by Marie Hall Ets, Play with Me. It’s about a little girl who wants to play with the animals in the woods but they all dart away when she tries to run up and join them. Only when she sits still and quiet and waits for them do all of the animals come up to be with her.

My car was like a bird blind, and the puffins felt safe coming right by me. It was amazing. Still and quietish and waiting was all it took.

Experiencing those puffins fly right by me was like being quiet and still and waiting in prayer, and then when least expecting it, receiving an answer beyond my most joyful imagining.

Whoosh! There goes another puffin!

A Sunday without church

Turns out the local church in Seydisfjordur is still on its winter schedule, and there is no Sunday worship until next Sunday. So this Lord’s Day will be one without church.

My friend and I decided to be intentional about making it a Sabbath. It was a gift of rest and ceasing after the lengthy, challenging drive on Saturday.

We walked to breakfast and then made use of the washer and dryer in the local campgrounds to clean our very dirty clothes.

Between loads, we spent the morning not in worship but in the restaurant across the street, drinking hot tea and coffee, then sharing a muffin, and then splitting the most amazing salad prepared with local greens. We chatted and wrote and stopped.

After lunch we strolled around town, capping the afternoon with a walk up a steep hill with waterfalls side by side to a sculpture at the summit created to capture local sounds.

On my walk down, mindfully stepped with my walking stick in hand to help me stay upright, I used the time to pray for all near and dear, allowing particular intercessions to bubble up with each foot placed on the rocky path. With the beauty surrounding me, having sung Laudate Dominum in the perfect sound space, it was very good church on this Sunday in Iceland.