Southeast Excursion

We left Snæfellsnes and began drive to Hof in the Southeast - a journey of a little over six hours if uninterrupted.

Dyrhólaey 

One stop we made on the way, a little past the halfway point, near Vik, was at Dyrhólaey. Dyrhólaey is a small promontory from which there are some interesting views available - of the glacier Mýrdalsjökull to the north, and of several black lava columns jutting far out of the sea, in the East.

On this day, the weather alternated between mist and dense fog, largely obscuring the available views, but we were still able to grab pictures of the scene near where we parked.

We resolved to stop at Dyrhólaey again on our return trip, in hopes that the weather would afford a better look.

Glacier Hike and Ice Cave

Pictured below are two glaciers, Falljökull (on the right) and Virkisjökull (on the left). Both are outlet glaciers of the Vatnajökull glacier - the largest ice cap in Iceland by area and by volume, and by volume the largest in Europe.

We would be hiking on Falljökull, and exploring an ice cave formed at the intersection of the two glaciers. Note the icefall at the top of Falljökull, from which the glacier derives its name.

We went with Glacier Guides as our tourgide. They did a good job, and I would recommend them to anyone who is interested in one of their excursions, although there are also other reputable groups in the area.

We were issued crampons, which strapped onto our hiking boots, as well as helmets and ice axes. The need for helmets was immediately apparent and understandable. I wondered if the ice axes were a regulatory requirement. I suppose having some of them around would be useful in an emergency, though we received little instruction for their use beyond which way to direct the pointy end while walking, and never made use of them during the hike.

The crampons were adjustable, and reminded me of old-style strap on roller skates, but they got the job done.

We had a short bus ride to the starting point for the excursion, and then a roughly 1 km hike to the ice.

Brief pause to strap on the crampons for the hike on the ice

We continued on up the ice for a distance, at times making use of stair steps that the tour guides had hacked into the ice using heavy picks. Leaving our ice axes behind, we descended into the opening of the ice cave.

Falljökull glacier begins with a spectacular icefall, before flattening out below as it continues on. Once the ice reaches the bottom of the icefall, however, it does not move very fast. In fact, our guide said that the portion nearest the bottom does not move at all under it's own weight - it melts away instead.

Virkisjökull, on the other hand, moves significantly faster than Falljökull, and as a result, where they meet, Virkisjökull actually flows over the top of  Falljökull. One of the artifacts of this dynamic is the ice cave we were inside of.

You can see below where the two glaciers meet. The ice at the bottom, which appears darker in the photo, is Falljökull. The ice at the top which has a bluer appearance is Virkisjökull. For the super nerdy, there is a place in the cave where you can stand with one foot on each glacier. I was all over that.

After exploring the cave, we continued on up the glacier for a ways, and got as close to the icefall as we safely could. In the photo below, you can see one of the ice axes being put to good use, safely pinning down the glacier while the tour member adjusts his glove.

Svartifoss

A short 1.6 km hike from the visitor's center/meeting location for our glacier cave tour is the waterfall Svartifoss. We decided to risk getting caught in a downpour and make the hike in order to see an Icelandic Sight. The trail was well constructed and maintained, and we didn't get rained on - not heavily, at least. Also, I had fun referring to the waterfall as Slartibartfoss a couple of times, because immaturity.

Of particular note are the rock formations surrounding the waterfall - consisting of columnar jointed basalt. These formations are formed when lava or magma cools and contraction causes the new rock to split into six-sided columns. Trippy cool.

Jökulsárlón

High on our list of sites to visit was the glacier lagoon at Jökulsárlón.

The lagoon plays host to a number of icebergs, calved from the  Breiðamerkurjökull glacier - the name of which you probably don't care about or need to know, but there it is because I'm totally into diacriticals at this point.

The lagoon is quite large, and owing to the weather we didn't hike around nearly as much of it as we originally thought we might. However, we did come across an area where upwards of twelve seals were frolicking about.

Loch Ness Monster impersonation

The lagoon has an outlet to the Atlantic, through which individual chunks of ice can migrate when tidal conditions are right. When the tide drops, motating icebergs run aground where they are and wait for the next high tide.

Atlantic Shore

The length of the passage from the lagoon to the Atlantic is only a few hundred yards. We spent a fair amount of time on the Atlantic shore as well as at the lagoon itself.

The beach is black sand (as were most of the beaches we saw), and the contrast between the sand and whatever was on or near the beach was strikingly beautiful.

Chunks of ice both large and small exit the lagoon and often wash up on the beach.

Julia's favourite piece of beach ice

Here is a view from when we first arrived at the beach, when the tide was high enough that large pieces of ice were travelling out of the lagoon into the ocean, and were then being washed up onto the shore.

And a bit of video that captures the dynamic pretty well.

Pieces may travel down the beach being washed up repeatedly, melting down all the while, or may finally wash out to sea.

We left and returned a couple of hours later, and the tide had receded considerably. These are the pieces of ice in the previous picture and video, now stranded up on shore.

Lamb Diary

If there were such a thing as a food-synonym, Iceland's would be "Lamb". My personal objective was to eat lamb every day during the visit, an objective I only failed to achieve on one day, and even then only (as detailed below) due to a rather unusual set of circumstances. 

With no further ado, I present: The Lamb Diary.

Lamb Fillet

Hótel Búðir - Búðir

First night in Iceland, having driven to the Snæfellsnes Peninsula, we were lagged out - almost zombiefied - and we drove 40 minutes to a restaurant at which we had made reservations weeks ago. The Hótel Búðir is built near a historically significant chapel - and there's not a whole lot more to Búðir. Their dining room is top notch. 

Served with new potatoes and local carrots. Garnished with chunks of veal tongue, which melted in your mouth and had a mouthfeel like bacon.

Lamb Soup

Prímus Kaffi - Hellnar

In the middle of our drive around Snaeffels in dreary winter drizzle, we stopped in at Hellnar - just west of Búðir - to get a bite at the cafe. We both got the Lamb Soup, a savory broth with large chunks of lamb and vegetables. It was accompanied by bread and rich butter, and we washed it down with tea and mocha. The soup hit the spot on a cold, rainy day. 

Lamb Shank

Sjávarpakkhúsið - Stykkishólmur

For our second night on the peninsula, we had made reservations at Sjávarpakkhúsið, an hour away from our hotel in Rif, based on a good experience some friends had had there recently. The restaurant is smallish and cozy, right on the wharf, and has the feeling of a clean tavern or public house. We both nailed the lamb shanks, and were not disappointed.

The chef here is also a fan of creative desserts. For ours, we shared Chocolate Shock - various presentations of chocolate. A ganache shell filled with whipped chocolate, chocolate cake with a true buttercream frosting, white chocolate mousse. 

Lamb Sandwich

Halldorskaffi - Vik

It was a seven hour journey on the road from our digs on the peninsula to our hotel on the southeast coast, and we stopped in at a crowded bar/restaurant in Vik that had the comfy feel of a noisy, rustic ski lodge at a second tier resort. We each grabbed a beer. Julia got a seafood stew, and I got the lamb sandwich. Tasty, lean and succulent slabs of lamb between slices of whole grain, served with thick wedges of fried potato. Stout fare. 

Mutton Sausage

Following our hike and cave exploration on Falljökull glacier, we stopped in at the visitor's center for some hot beverages. In the fridge case, we spied some goodies made from locally sourced mutton, and scored some mutton sausage slices. We had a picnic lunch in our hotel room before heading out again in the afternoon, combining the sausage with some pepper-Havarti.

There may be some who feel that mutton sausage is not gastronomically culinariesque enough to warrant inclusion in a Lamb Diary. They are wrong.

Roasted Lamb Leg

Fosshotel Glacier Lagoon - Hnappavellir

Our first night on our southwest excursion we stayed in spartan accommodations in Hof, but we relocated to the Fosshotel Glacier Lagoon, fifteen minutes away, for the next two nights. We dined in the hotel our first night there, and I got slow roasted lamb leg. Served with fennel, new potatoes, with an almond garnish. The white cups are onion hemisphere shells, filled with a light, frothy fresh hollandaise.

Lamb Chops

Kaffi Hornið - Höfn

After an adventurous day at the glacier lagoon at Jökulsárlón, we continued on down the coast to Höfn in search of an interesting place to have dinner. We found it at the Kaffi Hornið. The chops were pan fried to perfection, each with a rind of crisped, transformed lamb fat that added the perfect musky stank that is the reason I so dearly love eating the sheeps. Bonus: reindeer burger, with blue cheese. We split both entrees between the two of us, and smiled all the way through it.

Lamb Fillet Redux (sort of)

Þrír Frakkar - Reykjavik

We made reservations at Þrír Frakkar far in advance of our visit. Upscale atmosphere, and an impeccably credentialed kitchen - I was looking forward to what I was sure would be the best lamb of the trip. But when I got the menu, I had to pause. One offering was horse tenderloin, and I seriously had a difficult time deciding whether to order lamb or horse. In the end, I went with the lamb fillet. Julia got cod cheeks. For openers, Julia got fish soup, which she described as "perfect". I got mushroom soup, which was absolutely wonderful - creamy and rich and subtle.

When my main dish arrived, I saw three large slabs of meat - which struck me as unusual, but who was I to complain about so much lamb! There seemed to be a faintly off kilter smell, mildly of fish, which I determined was in fact coming from my plate and not Julia's. First bites held the crispness of the grill, though there wasn't much there in the way of flavour. The deeper I got into the piece, I noticed a very dark color, and a softer texture - not quite gelatinous. I wondered if these had come from a pan that had cooked fish? I wondered if it had been underdone, and if so what underdone lamb would do to me. I kept eating bites. Perhaps the second piece was fully cooked? I finally gave a piece to Julia to try, and she agreed that it was pretty odd. We really weren't certain what it was I was eating. It definitely looked like grilled meat, but although we couldn't identify it specifically we were pretty sure at that point that it wasn't lamb.

We asked our server what it was that was on my plate. It turns out that I had been served whale. 

Lamb Tapas

Tapas - Reykjavik

For our last serious meal in Iceland, we selected a restaurant specializing in Spanish and Icelandic tapas, named, unsurprisingly, Tapas. Of the selections we made, two involved lamb. Pictured above: rack of lamb with samfaina and mint sauce.

Why we can taste Things

The second entry, above, lamb tenderloin in licorice-sauce, blew us away.  Raw marinated lamb chunklets with creamy accompaniment.

Snæfellsnes Peninsula

We began with a drive from the international airport in Keflavík (near the capitol, Reykjavík) up to the Snæfellsnes Peninsula, so named after the volacano Snæfellsjökull, which occupies the central portion of the peninsula. Of literary note, this is the volcano into which the intrepid explorers descended in Jules Verne’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth in order to reach and explore a world within our world. Who could resist the draw of such an icon? Not us.

The primary objective of our visit to Iceland was to witness the Aurora Borealis – hence our winter excursion. We were experiencing a fair amount of trepidation during our drive, therefore, as the day was overcast with thick, low clouds all the way up to the peninsula. We spent two nights on the peninsula, and during that time the weather never varied – except for the part about how sometimes it rained in a sputtering fashion, while at other times it rained a bit harder, although in fact most of the time it simply drizzled a lot.

On our second day we drove entirely around the famed volcano, and as a keepsake I took the best shot of Snæfells that I was able…

Snæfellsjökull

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Although we were disappointed not to be able to see Snæfells, we were able to see a number of other cool things. At the top of this blog is a picture of a waterfall in the town of Ólafsvík. There are a number of waterfalls visible from the road as one drives along – smaller, but no less striking.

We also toured a lava tube. A lava tube forms when the top part of a lava flow cools while the lava underneath keeps flowing. A lava tube is left behind when hot lava underneath the cooling ceiling flows away, leaving an underground cavern behind.

After the tube is formed, a cave-in of a portion of the ceiling can reveal its presence at the surface – that is what happened with the tube we toured. We descended roughly 30 metres underground, and then were able to follow the tube laterally. 

I found the walls of the tube to be particularly interesting. Much of the rock was porous, underscoring the origin of the cave, which I thought was pretty cool. We also saw stalagmites which had grown up as hot lava pushed up through small holes in the floor of the tube, cooling as it rose and creating a vertical passage for more lava. We saw a couple of these, three or four feet high.

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Though we sometimes wondered, while circumnavigating the volcano, what might be lurking behind cloud banks, we spent a far greater amount of time marveling at strikingly beautiful scenes. Scenes that would have been even more beautiful – and more photographable – given some sunshine. Nevertheless, we did come across a few that seemed worth preserving as images…

In days of old, sod roofs were the norm, and from time to time we saw buildings that appeared still to be thusly equipped. Here are two outbuildings we saw that had them. I can’t be sure whether in the modern day this is actually the roof or whether it is simply aesthetic.

It turns out that, at some point, someone committed an Art on the end of this structure.

Our first night on the peninsula, we had a wonderful meal at the restaurant in the Hótel Búðir, which is built near the site of a very old and historically significant chapel. The next day, amidst the cold drizzle and wind, we returned to walk about the chapel and the nearby shore.

I couldn’t help but smile.

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Further on down the road, we came across a few Icelandic ponies up near the fence bordering the road, and stopped for a closer inspection.

The ponies are stockier than their equine cousins, and sport a thick coat in wintertime, though they can be groomed to a sheen in summer. They have changed very little since arriving in Iceland hundreds of years ago.

Riding is a pastime that is embraced by a large percentage of the population; show riding competitions are also a thing. Export of the horses is permitted, but once a horse has left Iceland it may never legally return – a precaution against importing disease against which the domestic stock might be vulnerable.

There are aficionados of these horses in other countries, and international competitions are likewise held. Icelanders regularly compete and, as might be expected, often do very well. But when returning home, the riders are required to leave their oft beloved mounts behind.

Julia doled out some freelance pony scratchies, and suffered no adverse consequences – in contrast to earlier adventures involving non-sanctioned yak touching.

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A large portion of the landscape we have seen consists of lava fields. A great portion of these fields are flat expanses. Strewn with boulders and large rocks, and covered with a thick layer of green moss, the fields remind me of nothing so much as a vast expanse of mint chocolate-chip gelato, if such had been made with particularly chunky chips.

Closer to the volcano from whence the lava originated, you can also observe snake-like lava flows, where tall streams of chunky magma streamed down the slope and across the flat toward the sea.