Reykjavík Grapevine - 03.06.2011, Blaðsíða 34

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CONSTABLE POINT
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My gloveless hands clutched the cold metal railing of
the tractor-drawn hay cart as we drove into the sea
towards Ingólfshöfði, an isolated cape located south
of the Vatnajökull glacier. From a distance, a vast
ocean seemed to separate us from our destination.
In reality, it was a thin layer of water that the tractor's
burly tires easily traversed.
GAGGLES OF GIGGLES
In late April, the six-kilometre drive through a wet,
black sand desert to Ingólfshöfði, though scenic, was
a cold and bumpy one. The bumps, however, pro-
duced mostly giggles over grumbles from me and my
travel mates. We could see Ingólfshöfði's silhouette
in the distance, and its elusiveness kept us inquisi-
tive and happy.
The only way to get to Ingólfshöfði is via amphibi-
ous vehicles or tractors (so don't try to drive there in
your rental, even if it's a 4x4). For the past decade,
Sigurður Bjarnason, a retired farmer of the area, and
his family have been driving gaggles of tourists out
to the cape daily during the summer using their nifty
tractors. Due to Sigurður's increasing age, his son
Einar has taken over most of the tours with his wife
Matta.
HUMBLED BY HISTORY
Though I usually prefer travelling on my own to guid-
ed tours, I was pleasantly surprised by Einar's tour
of Ingólfshöfði: he did not herd the group like cattle,
nor did he make cheesy jokes that aimed to please
the dull-brained masses. He provided information
about the history and ecology of the cape in a re-
laxed, straightforward manner and came equipped
with a monocular through which we could all gaze
at seabirds. We spent about an hour and half on the
cape and walked about 2–3 kilometres following the
cliff ledge.
Before Einar mentioned it, I had no idea Ingólf-
shöfði was named after the first permanent settler in
Iceland, Ingólfur Arnarson, who spent a few winters
on the cape in the late 800s before moving to Reyk-
javík. When Ingólfur and brother-in-law Hjörleifur
Hróðmarsson first saw land on their voyage from
Norway, Ingólfur threw his high-seat pillars (a pair
of wooden poles that symbolized the status of head
of the household in Scandinavian houses) overboard
and vowed to settle where the gods brought them to
shore. It took three years for Ingólfur's slaves to find
the pillars in the bay of what is now Reykjavík.
NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK
During the summer, thousands of nesting seabirds
call Ingólfshöfði home, especially puffins and Great
Skuas, which is one reason why many tourists travel
to the cape on Einar's tours. Before heading out, Ein-
ar warned us that we might not see puffins this early
in the season. In late April, only the males have come
to shore to clean out their old nests, a burrow usu-
ally situated at the edge of a sharp precipice. After
cleaning, the males line the newly excavated nests
with a fresh layer of plants, feathers and seaweed.
The females, who are courted and charmed (and im-
pregnated) on the rough waters of the north Atlantic
Ocean, come to land around mid-May, when they
have to find their mate amongst a bustling colony of
other puffin couples.
MONOGAMY AND MURDER
Puffins start breeding at around four to five years of
age and remain with the same mate for life. These
birds are the ideal of monogamy in the flesh; divorce
rarely occurs, and when it does, it's usually because
the pair failed to produce young after trying for sev-
eral years. Some of its neighbours on Ingólfshöfði,
like the Great Skua, sabotage the puffin's romantic
lifestyle by murdering its children. With a wingspan
of up to 140 cm, Great Skuas are much larger than
puffins and find their young quite tasty.
Known to fly at the head of humans or other
intruders approaching its nest, the Great Skua is a
feisty parent. While on Ingólfshöfði I felt as though
they were watching me closely as I paraded around
their home. (The puffin, however, remained oblivious
to our presence until someone got too close.)
After climbing up a steep-ish sand dune, Einar
guided the group along the cliffs of Ingólfshöfði that
faced the open ocean. In the corner of my eye, I
caught a glimpse of a silly little bird flapping its wings
vigorously in an attempt to make it to the edge of
the rock ledge. With its natural tuxedo and colour-
ful beak, puffins are not that difficult to spot. Before
plummeting down to the ocean below, the puffin
remained still just long enough for all of us to get a
closer look at him through the monocular, which my
bird-crazy eyes enjoyed immensely.
On our way back to the tractor, I spotted the skel-
eton of a bird stripped bare to the bones lying in the
grass, its bright orange and black beak giving away
its identity. Despite their comical name and appear-
ance, I was reminded while on Ingólfshöfði that puf-
fins are real, live animals, susceptible to the grips of
Skuas, starvation and disease. Seeing them in their
natural habitat, they became much more than the
caricature tourism companies portray them to be.
For this, I have a newfound respect for puffins; for
tour guides, too, and their fancy monoculars.
34
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 7 — 2011
Travel | Birdwatching
Words
Vanessa Schipani
Photography
Maroesjka Lavigne
“Puffins start breeding at around four to five years of
age and remain with the same
mate for life. These birds are
the ideal of monogamy in the
flesh; divorce rarely occurs,
and when it does, it's usually
because the pair failed to
produce young after trying for
several years.
Do you think puffins are maybe 'overrated'?
Why do folks love them so much?
Visit the official travel guide to South Iceland at www.south.is
for more information on accommodation, dining, and
what to do & see while you are there.
A tour of Cape Ingólfshöfði's history and wildlife
Into The Ocean