Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.01.2008, Síða 39

Article | Reykjavík Grapevine | Issue 01 2008 | 23
seem to be much more going on in this sleepy
town, so I returned to the road with a brand new
soundtrack playing – a cheesy ‘70s cover version
of Elvis’ “Suspicious Minds.” I was suddenly oddly
and embarrassingly moved by the overwrought
tune, but I suspect this was a combination of the
extra-strong coffee I picked up at Vík’s single gas
station and the astounding Mýrdalssandur, the
glacial desert I was now entering.
Glacial Landscapes for Glacial Landscapes
At this point, I began to wish I actually had
brought some CDs with me for the trip. But in this
day of the iPod, who still carries physical copies
of music along with them on their travels? Luck-
ily, I had been given a copy of Reykjavik!’s excel-
lent ‘Glacial Landscapes, Religion, Oppression,
and Alcohol’ by a very drunken guitar playing
member of the band during the festival. I popped
this in and was immediately inspired and ener-
gised, but managed to slow down as I passed a
rest stop with mysterious piles of rocks dotting
the landscape.
Intrigued, I pulled over to investigate and
found that this spot marks the remains of an an-
cient homestead. It seems that Icelanders con-
sider it good luck to add a rock to one of these
cairns, so I happily obliged, secretly hoping that
this action would portend good things to come.
In the distance, the cloud cover lifted up ever so
slightly, affording me a glimpse of Myrdalsjökull,
a glacier that would pale in comparison to what I
would experience in the morning at Vatnajökull,
Europe’s largest glacier.
I tipped my hat to the elves and trolls I’m sure
were scurrying all around me and got back in the
car, determined to make it to Hótel Skaftafell be-
fore dark, on the edge of Skaftafell National Park.
The hotel turned out to be a pretty average road-
side accommodation, nothing special but not
particularly grungy either. It’s pretty much the
only option for lodging in the area, so one can’t
complain too much.
A busload of British teenagers was spending
the night as well, so the management obliged my
request to change rooms so I could get a decent
night’s rest. After sampling the excellent break-
fast spread, I headed out before sunrise to back-
track a few kilometres to the edge of the glacier
just within the boundaries of the national park.
Towards the East Coast ‘80s
At first light I arrived at Skaftafell’s deserted visi-
tor centre to the most appropriate soundtrack of
all – complete silence. Alone, except for the oc-
casional chirping bird, I walked the path through
the dissipating mist to the glacier’s edge. Signs
warned against climbing on Vatnajökull, and the
visible crevasses convinced me that it was advice
worth heeding. Later on during my trip, someone
would tell me about a couple of German tour-
ists who disappeared on the glacier last summer
and haven’t been heard from since. Blissfully
unaware of this at the time, I immersed myself
in the serenity of my surroundings. On the way
back to the Ring Road, an incredibly cheesy reg-
gae song played on the radio, something about
the “heartbeat of the earth.” Somehow, this hack-
neyed cliché felt kind of poignant, considering
the natural beauty surrounding me.
As I travelled northeast on the Ring Road,
skirting the coast, the massive glacier peeping
out from behind the mountains every few min-
utes, a litany of ‘80s hits burst forth from my Ex-
plorer’s speakers – ‘Tainted Love,’ ‘Purple Rain,’
etc. I passed through the small town of Höfn and
entered a tunnel through the mountains. Static
immediately deadened the sound from the car
speakers, but when I came out into the sunshine
of the fjord country on the other side, Sinead
O’Conner’s “Nothing Compares 2 U” was play-
ing – yet another perfect soundtrack moment.
I stopped for lunch in Djúpivogur at the Hótel
Framtíð. This was one of the best meals I had
during my time in Iceland. I ordered the daily
special, consisting of vegetable soup, baked cod,
fried potato balls, and a cabbage salad. My meal
was enhanced by the restaurant’s soundtrack,
with what sounded like an Icelandic Neil Dia-
mond singing a song called “Blue Jean Queen.”
A Friendly Reminder from JC
From Djúpivogur, I stayed on the Ring Road in-
stead of taking Route 939, which would have
connected me directly to Egilsstaðir and short-
ened my trip significantly. This is a good choice
if you have time to spare, as the road winds you
around beautiful fjords, sometimes going sev-
eral kilometres inland and back out to the coast.
Talking Heads’ ‘Road to Nowhere’ began to play
as I flipped through the dial, on the only station
that had any reception in this part of the country.
Unsure if I had missed a crucial turn that would
add hours to my journey, David Byrne’s words
seemed to mock me, until I realised I was on the
right path.
After a brief stop in Reyðarfjörður, where my
guidebook told me I might be able to find the
grave of Völva (I didn’t), I headed out on the final
stretch to my destination for the night, Seyðis-
fjörður.
Heading up over the hills from Egilsstaðir, Au-
dio Adrenaline’s moronic Christian rock played
on the radio, a song called “Never Gonna Be as
Big as Jesus.” Jesus, what a terrible song. But this
musical torment was well worth it when I pulled
into the parking lot of Seyðisfjörður’s quaint and
classy Hotel Aldan. Owner Klas Poulsen met me
in the building that houses the dining room and
reception area to direct me towards a separate
building where the rooms are located. Mine was
on the top floor, large, antique-furnished, and
very comfortable accommodation.
Seems that in the winter, everything in the
town closes down at about 6pm, but I made it
over to the ATVR (the state alcohol store) dur-
ing the one hour it is open on weekdays to pick
up a couple of Vikings. Seyðisfjörður is a bustling
ferry stop during the summer, but the only sign
of life this night was the town’s name in lights up
on the mountainside. I bought my supper at the
local grocery store and headed back to my room
to settle down for the night.
My trip was only halfway over, and there was
still a lot of ground to cover and soundtracks to
hear, but I already felt like I had gotten to know
this wonderful country just a little better.
Text by Jonah Flicker
Photos by Jonah Flicker
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