Day 1: Vertigo Islands and the Beginning of the Foss- Selfi-Culture

Day 1
Westmannaeyjar 

 

It all started with me waking up at Jakob’s place 8:00 clock for the trip. I had gotten somewhere between 6-8 hours sleep from the night before due to a couple of Irish tourists deciding on a late St. Paddy’s day at my bar. I was definitely ready to leave Reykjavik and drive around the entire island on the Ring Road.

The Great Red Shark

 We grabbed our gear under the mantra: Less is more. We left our stuff at the apartment and headed down to the car rental Budget (The name clearly reflected the nature of our trip.) Me sweet talking the Lithuanian clerk in Russian didn’t yield much results besides a recitation of his favorite joke on the price not being in our native currency and therefore not more expensive. We got a new red (Another subject of humor of the clerk) Hyundai, lovely little thing with what we needed, which was an AUX cable to avoid Icelandic radio. Icelandic radio will play you the same 7 hits during an hour and then fill the rest of time with what I presume is entertainment. It is therefore not very advisable.
We headed out of Reykjavik blasting what some online magazine had celebrated as the 50 Ultimate Roadtrip songs! First stop of the day would be the Westmannaeyjar (Westmann islands) where we would spend the day exploring the island. After a quick grocery stop at Bonus in Hveragerdi (The main grocery chain of Iceland) where supplies were gathered, we set off for the ferry at Landeyhöfn. The weather was horrible as fog enclosed the landscape with occasional showers. However, the weather got better when we got to the ferry as Icelandic weather changes in matters of minutes.  

The trip over to the islands was beautiful with the black islands getting closer. It felt like sailing into a pirate cove, except for the lack of pirate ships and an abundance of trawlers. (The port of Heimaey in the Westmannaeyjar is one of the most important fishing harbors of Iceland) We got off the boat and found a café where we obtained maps of the island. Since both Jakob and I are from one the flattest countries in the world, we decided on climbing the tallest mountain there. (It might have been a hill to Icelanders, but for Danes it was a different story.) The ascent of Heimaklettur was filled with small steps, ladders and other unpleasant contraptions for people, who call a hill of 147m the Sky Mountain.(Heimaklettur is 286m) We stopped at what we would call the summit and enjoyed the mandatory Skyr snack.

The terror in our eyes is evident up on Heimaklettur

 

 

After we got down from what could have been the end of us, we decided to climb yet another moutain. This time the ascent was much easier and we quickly reached the top of Blátindur and enjoyed the beautiful view of the city and island.



Jakob enjoying the view. In a safe manner at Blátindur.

After our second mountain of the day (quite the feat for a couple of flatland Danes) we concluded that the island had nothing more to offer. We found a local restaurant known for their use of fresh produce (Subway) and enjoyed a sub and free refills of the Fanta-copy-yet-superior Appelsin Soda. As we were ordering suddenly we found ourselves surrounded by a flock of local teenagers craving food, but straight after our order they ran out of bread. A quite imperative ingredient of Subway.
Living on an island is tough indeed.


Jakob enjoying the last sub on the Westmann Islands.

We parted with the isles of Puffins (we didn't see one single of those damn birds) and had a relaxing trip back to the mainland.
We got into the car and blasted our roadtrip-music. It had at this point become clear that the main portion of the trip would become one long carpool karaoke, something we were strangely comfortable with.
The clock was 9:00PM and we were heading for Seljavallalaug, where a hot-pot was located and a possible campsite could be occupied. Nearly immediately after the ferry we passed Seljafoss, a big waterfall. Both Jakob and I were strangers to the whole selfi-culture, but decided that being young in the 21st century required us to partake in it. With this started the Foss-Selfi-Culture, a tradition where we would take selfis at every single foss/waterfall.


Young, free and somewhat wild

It was getting dark as we arrived at Seljavallalaug. (Or as dark as it gets, since Iceland in the summer enjoys Midnight Sun. At this time it wasn't quite at full strength, but enough to fuck greatly with your day rhythm.) First thing we noticed was a No Camping sign, so we would have to move on after bathing in the hot-pot. After a 10 minute walk we arrived at the old pool from 1923 filled with natural hot spring water. (Since our budget was low, these hot-pots would serve as our main source of hygiene) We quickly dived in and enjoyed the hot water and the surroundings in the little river valley that surrounded the pool. 


Bathing in Seljavallalaug

We walked back to the car while pondering about where to sleep. Hearing about the Open Air Act which should give us the right to camp wherever we wanted, we headed out of the Ring Road.
It was getting late (00:00) and desperation was starting to show.
Finally Skogarfoss appeared, a large waterfall with a campsite beneath it. We were amazed by the prime location of the campsite and marveled of it being free! We quickly set up the tent, decided it was too late for cooking (We had been hardcore snacking on chocolate crackers anyway. We were indeed adults) and went to sleep to the sound of the bouldering waterfall. Next day would take us through the rest of the South.

Skogarfoss