* * Day 11 in the Land of Waterfalls

Day 11

It's day eleven in the Land Of Waterfalls. Oh, my!

We awoke on our final day in Akeuryi and said tearful goodbyes to our hostess, Saldis. She is a manic-knitter, and Jane bought for herself a brown sweater that Saldis had just completed. We had a great time with her and will miss her and being at her flat. Time moves on and so must we.

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For the second consecutive morning, the town was shrouded in fog when we awoke. Apparently this is a common summer pattern of early morning fog wafting up the fjord with rapidly clearing skies. Another beautiful day beaconed.

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We stopped at the grocery store for food for the next couple of days and filled the tank with more $9/gallon gas. Then we went to the town's arboretum. Akeuryi reputedly has the northernmost public botanical garden in the world. We had a peaceful walk through the rows of flowers, shrubs, and overhanging trees. A cruise ship anchored in the harbor and there were many guests from it wandering the garden.

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Leaving town, we made the now-familiar journey eastward in Highway 1. We stopped again at the Goddifoss waterfall and had a nice picnic, outside of the car for a change. We continued through Myvatn, where, like a scene from Groundhog Day, our windshield was again splattered with midges. We motored on, breaking new ground. 

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Myvatn is a high plain, with its lake giving it much greenery and life. But farther to the east, the area became desolate and barren, like the high deserts of Idaho or Nevada. And seemingly as endless. We crossed the Jakulsa a Fjothum (river) and turned onto a hard-packed dirt road, northwards, to the twin falls of the river, the Dettifoss and Selfoss. The road threw up a huge cloud of dust behind our car and others. I tried to pass a slower-moving car, but he wouldn't give way and it was difficult to see well enough through the dust to get close enough to pass. Rather than breathe his dust, we parked and took a quick power-nap, giving him some space. The road went on probably 40 minutes or so, before the turn to the waterfall overlook parking lot. 

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A well-maintained trail led down to an overlook at the Dettifoss. It was thunderous! The flow is enormous and the sheer power of the water was overwhelming to the senses.  The river is Iceland's longest and it drains the largest basin, but it doesn't have the most flow because much of the basin is in the island's rain shadow and is dry. Nevertheless, it is quite impressive!

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Jane and I walked up-river towards the Selfoss. There was a stretch of the trail through a field of boulders, and she fell on slippery rock and banged her knee. I helped her up but she decided to head back to the car rather than continuing. I went on, reaching the Selfoss in another 30 minutes. Near it, I fell too, losing my balance on another slippery rock. Enough! 

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Still, I had the chance to get a good feel for the upper and lower falls.  The river drops out of the nation's largest glacier field well to the south. It heads due northwards, across this desert-like plain. At the falls, it enters a canyon of its own creation, with each of the two falls dropping off its own rock shelf. I took some photos, knowing the would never be capable of showing the power someone can only feel when there.

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Then, I re-joined Jane and we drove back again across the dusty desert. 

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Back on Highway 1, we turned eastward again and continued the long journey across the high desert. Finally, the road rose through a low north-south ridge of mountains and began descending, taking us back to the low elevation, greener, cultivated areas we'd seen so much of before. Sheep reappeared in the pastures. We saw lots of swans, sitting in the ponds and on the fields. Two flew nearly over the car, impressing us with their size and grace.

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We descended again and reached the river valley of the Jokuldalur, pointed northeasterly towards the sea, with endless ribbons of waterfalls streaming from the uplands to our left, above. Again, cutting agains the drain, the road rose over a ridge and to the long valley of the Lagarfljot, Iceland's equivalent of Loch Ness, complete with its own monster, real or imagined. We entered the town of Eglisstadir, the largest in the Northeast, but just as quickly headed out of town again due east to our destination for the day, Seydisfjordur. 

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Oh, my gosh, WHAT A ROAD! It is a mere 25 kilometers (15 miles) from Eglisstadir to Seydisfjordur, but it takes the nation's highest paved and plowed road. The climb from Eglisstadir makes long, sweeping switchbacks up the ridge face. The top is a snowy plain, five kilometers long or so. The descent is a plunge with 10% grades or more, rapidly descending into the cirque. The town of Seydisfjordur is easily seen below, far lower than the eyes deem possible. Yet the road drops in graceful, guard-rail-less turns. And of course, the warped disk brakes of the Honda shook the steering wheel wildly whenever I needed to use them. 

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We reached the town at the mouth of the fjord of the same name. The directions to our guest house were cryptic at best, but we followed our intuition and quickly found it. Johanna, our hostess, assured us that anybody in town could have told us where she was. She has a large, lovely home where she lives alone, her husband having left in the aftermath of of the economic collapse of 2008, in a fog of alcoholism. 

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I fixed dinner for Jane and myself, chicken cordon bleu for her and salmon for me. By this time, the town was deeply enshrouded in fog, giving it a Poe-like mystery. It was quite cold, but nonetheless, I went for a walk into the village where there were two bars going strong on this Saturday night. Then to my blog. Jane is chatting up our hostess, talking about friendships and places, politics, weather, pets, and children. The sound of flowing water from a cascade beside the house fills my ears. 

Day 11It's day eleven in the Land Of Waterfalls. Oh, my!We awoke on our final day in Akeuryi and said tearful goodbyes to our hostess, Saldis. She is a manic-knitter, and Jane bought for herself a brown sweater that Saldis had just completed. We had a great time with her and will miss her and being at her flat. Time moves on and so must we..For the second consecutive morning, the town was shrouded in fog when we awoke. Apparently this is a common summer pattern of early morning fog wafting up the fjord with rapidly clearing skies. Another beautiful day beaconed..We stopped at the grocery store for food for the next couple of days and filled the tank with more $9/gallon gas. Then we went to the town's arboretum. Akeuryi reputedly has the northernmost public botanical garden in the world. We had a peaceful walk through the rows of flowers, shrubs, and overhanging trees. A cruise ship anchored in the harbor and there were many guests from it wandering the garden..Leaving town, we made the now-familiar journey eastward in Highway 1. We stopped again at the Goddifoss waterfall and had a nice picnic, outside of the car for a change. We continued through Myvatn, where, like a scene from Groundhog Day, our windshield was again splattered with midges. We motored on, breaking new ground. .Myvatn is a high plain, with its lake giving it much greenery and life. But farther to the east, the area became desolate and barren, like the high deserts of Idaho or Nevada. And seemingly as endless. We crossed the Jakulsa a Fjothum (river) and turned onto a hard-packed dirt road, northwards, to the twin falls of the river, the Dettifoss and Selfoss. The road threw up a huge cloud of dust behind our car and others. I tried to pass a slower-moving car, but he wouldn't give way and it was difficult to see well enough through the dust to get close enough to pass. Rather than breathe his dust, we parked and took a quick power-nap, giving him some space. The road went on probably 40 minutes or so, before the turn to the waterfall overlook parking lot. .A well-maintained trail led down to an overlook at the Dettifoss. It was thunderous! The flow is enormous and the sheer power of the water was overwhelming to the senses.  The river is Iceland's longest and it drains the largest basin, but it doesn't have the most flow because much of the basin is in the island's rain shadow and is dry. Nevertheless, it is quite impressive!.Jane and I walked up-river towards the Selfoss. There was a stretch of the trail through a field of boulders, and she fell on slippery rock and banged her knee. I helped her up but she decided to head back to the car rather than continuing. I went on, reaching the Selfoss in another 30 minutes. Near it, I fell too, losing my balance on another slippery rock. Enough! .Still, I had the chance to get a good feel for the upper and lower falls.  The river drops out of the nation's largest glacier field well to the south. It heads due northwards, across this desert-like plain. At the falls, it enters a canyon of its own creation, with each of the two falls dropping off its own rock shelf. I took some photos, knowing the would never be capable of showing the power someone can only feel when there..Then, I re-joined Jane and we drove back again across the dusty desert. .Back on Highway 1, we turned eastward again and continued the long journey across the high desert. Finally, the road rose through a low north-south ridge of mountains and began descending, taking us back to the low elevation, greener, cultivated areas we'd seen so much of before. Sheep reappeared in the pastures. We saw lots of swans, sitting in the ponds and on the fields. Two flew nearly over the car, impressing us with their size and grace..We descended again and reached the river valley of the Jokuldalur, pointed northeasterly towards the sea, with endless ribbons of waterfalls streaming from the uplands to our left, above. Again, cutting agains the drain, the road rose over a ridge and to the long valley of the Lagarfljot, Iceland's equivalent of Loch Ness, complete with its own monster, real or imagined. We entered the town of Eglisstadir, the largest in the Northeast, but just as quickly headed out of town again due east to our destination for the day, Seydisfjordur. .Oh, my gosh, WHAT A ROAD! It is a mere 25 kilometers (15 miles) from Eglisstadir to Seydisfjordur, but it takes the nation's highest paved and plowed road. The climb from Eglisstadir makes long, sweeping switchbacks up the ridge face. The top is a snowy plain, five kilometers long or so. The descent is a plunge with 10% grades or more, rapidly descending into the cirque. The town of Seydisfjordur is easily seen below, far lower than the eyes deem possible. Yet the road drops in graceful, guard-rail-less turns. And of course, the warped disk brakes of the Honda shook the steering wheel wildly whenever I needed to use them. .We reached the town at the mouth of the fjord of the same name. The directions to our guest house were cryptic at best, but we followed our intuition and quickly found it. Johanna, our hostess, assured us that anybody in town could have told us where she was. She has a large, lovely home where she lives alone, her husband having left in the aftermath of of the economic collapse of 2008, in a fog of alcoholism. .I fixed dinner for Jane and myself, chicken cordon bleu for her and salmon for me. By this time, the town was deeply enshrouded in fog, giving it a Poe-like mystery. It was quite cold, but nonetheless, I went for a walk into the village where there were two bars going strong on this Saturday night. Then to my blog. Jane is chatting up our hostess, talking about friendships and places, politics, weather, pets, and children. The sound of flowing water from a cascade beside the house fills my ears.