Iceland Day 3, Heading South - Part 1
The morning came quick as we rose from the Oddsson. The sun crested the horizon to illuminate the North Atlantic bay outside our window, so we decided to venture out into the brisk oceanic air to find fuel, in the form of breakfast.
Heading South
after coffee.
Wednesday, November 1
We had an extraordinary time walking along the old harbor. While strolling down the docks, we saw tour boat captains with empty vessels as they prepped for the day’s excursions. A quaint coffee house and bakery at the end of the dock caught our attention. Inside the cozy seaside café, we picked up a croissant and hot coffee before continuing to the grocery store.
Bonus is an Icelandic grocery store that sports a piggy bank as its mascot, and is by-far is the most economical place to buy anything edible. After combing through Icelandic meats, cheeses, chips, drinks, breads and Skyr (the best damn yogurt I’ve ever had), a trip to the gas station on our way out of town provided a breakfast hot dog for yours truly (*the beard)— Icelanders love their hot dogs, just like most Nordic countries, so when in Reykjavík…
View across the harbor showed a spit of land with a lighthouse on the end
Our full day’s adventure took us 185 miles from Reykjavík across the southern part of the island to Vik, the southern most village in Iceland; then back to the Riverside Guest House for the night. The road trip was broken up with a quick stop in Hella to drop off gear and check out the accommodations.
We then hopped back onto the highway in search of waterfalls. Seljalandsfoss was the main attraction, and in about 40 minutes, we turned off of HWY 1 onto the service road. Tour buses, vans and cars increased in density — this was a true tourist destination, and included a tremendous parking lot and restroom building.
The cold wind ripped between the vehicles with incredible intensity, and shook the car as we gathered our coats for exiting our mobile shelter.
From the parking lot there were a few different options that led to the viewing areas, and people seemed to be traversing in all directions, so we chose to view the first aquatic feature in a clockwise direction — which allowed us to climb a frozen staircase, rather than descend it.
(The pictures make it look nice and cozy, but in reality, the windchill was about 17° F.)
Atop the stairs, the path curved as it led us behind the waterfall. Jeri took the front, and advanced onward, to conquer the frozen spray that stung our cheeks. We soon found ourselves protected from the elements, beneath several tons of rock, in a concave space that peered through the glacier-fed downpour.
The sounds of crashing, splashing water magnified and distorted our senses as we explored the igneous formation. We followed the trail and upon exiting the experiential loop, we endured — to the one who lives in the canyon.
Gljúfrabúi
One who lives in the canyon
Gljúfrafoss, or Gljúfrabúi as it is also know, is only a few hundred yards from its larger sibling, and hides something special. Obscured by the outcropping rocks, this slender cascading feature lives up to its moniker, translated as “one who lives in the canyon”. The elegant formation plummets into a small pool behind the boulders.
Scouting the area showed that this character had many facets to investigate. Each one offered a level of intimacy that could not be found around Seljalandsfoss.
Looking out to the west after climbing up to see the top of the falls
The valley is expansive, frigid, and dramatically sun-kissed.
Subsequently, we examined the rest of the man-made facilities, and returned to the car for the windbreak it offered. Some snacks, and then back on the road to Vik, but before we get there — sunset on black sand beaches.