Reykjavík Grapevine - 01.08.2014, Blaðsíða 48

48 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 11 — 2014TRAVEL
We started our journey with rays of warm
sunlight, heading southeast on the Ring
Road. Not long into the trip, however, we
found ourselves in the midst of a snow-
storm that forced us to slow down to 20
km/h, since otherwise, our ginormous yel-
low camper would have blown away like
an empty box of Cheerios. Auspicious be-
ginnings indeed!
Þorlákshöfn, our first stop, assaulted
our nostrils with its fishy smell as soon as
we opened the van doors. We ventured
into Skálinn, one of those ubiquitous grill,
gas station and general store combos that
dot the country. As we discovered on our
trip, a place like Skálinn is the epicentre
and hot spot of every small town along
the south coast. There we interrupted a
romantic teenage couple, Snæfríður Sól
and Sighvatur Bjarki, during their date-
night dinner of burgers and fries in order
to press them on the topic du jour: the
teacher's strike (this was back in March).
“I don't enjoy it, it ruins the routine,” said
18-year-old Snæfríður who, we might ap-
provingly note, is an aspiring doctor. “Ev-
erybody else is working, so I have noth-
ing to do.” Where does one go in case of
a wave of boredom? The local swimming
pool is a desirable destination for fun. Un-
fortunately, we missed the opening hours:
it was past five PM.
Although she claimed to love the town
she grew up in, Snæfríður said she wasn’t
sure she’d be working in Þorlákshöfn for
the rest of her life. Apparently, there’s not
much of a future for youngsters in the
area. “You either drive to Reykjavík or
Selfoss for work, or you get a job in a fish
factory,” she explained. “Or you become a
teacher, and then you can live here. Those
are the two main jobs, in fish factories and
in schools.”
We then headed to Meitillinn (“The
Stead”), a local bar and grill, which Sigh-
vatur Bjarki told us was one of two places
to grab a beer on a Friday night.
Once inside, we found fishermen Styr-
mir Ingi Hauksson and Ágúst Óli Leifsson
enjoying a pint and resting after a windy
day at sea. They were in town for very
pragmatic reasons. “Our boat was sold to
a new owner and we came with it,” Ágúst
said. He made it sound as if they were cat-
tle, even though he was actually captain of
the ship. “If the pay wasn’t so good, I’d be
home in the East, where my heart is,” Styr-
mir admitted, in what we assumed was a
poetic reference to his wife and two kids
in Breiðdalsvík. The sap had been forced
to sacrifice his preferred profession, too:
“If I had a choice, I’d go into bodybuilding
or something like that,” he confided. We
could easily believe it, since he looked like
a bicep on two legs. “I used to work out a
lot, but I stopped for the sea.”
The sea is what we wanted to see
before we pulled out of fishy Þorlákshöfn.
So, we took a short walk to the beach, a
highly frequented spot when good wind
whispers through the bay. “It’s one of the
best surfing places in Iceland,” Sighvatur
had bragged earlier at Skálinn. The waves
were high, too scary for us to get our feet
wet. Also, cold.
From Nowhere To
Somewhere In Stokkseyri
By the time we reached Eyrarbakki, it was
too late to find anyone on the streets, so
we abandoned our plan of meeting more
locals and chose our first sleeping spot
instead: the parking lot of the town’s tiny
white church, next to the only restaurant
which was, of course, closed. The mer-
cury was well below the freezing point
that night, and crunchy snow lay all over
the ground outside. Whiskey and beer
warmed us up from the inside, and at
some point, sleep washed us away.
We awoke the next morning to beau-
tiful sunshine. The day’s warmer forecast
had been accurate, which rarely happens
in Iceland. The warmth motivated us to ex-
plore the town, seeking any kind of enter-
tainment. However, this turned out to be a
doomed pursuit.
We passed two deserted hostels
(again: it was March), a retirement home
and a forsaken gas station. We then gave
up and left for Eyrarbakki’s close neigh-
bour, Stokkseyri, heading instantly for the
pool. The lovely outdoor facility welcomed
our tired, stinky and frozen bodies. Just
as we had made ourselves comfortable
in the hot tub, a pleasant voice appeared
from behind. “Would you like some cof-
How to get there?
For your own camper-based adventure, contact Happy Camper at info@happycampers.is or +
354 578 7860, or visit their website at www.happycampers.is
Vík í Mýrdal1
Words Fred Q. Labelle, Yasmin Nowak and Jonathan Pattishall
Photos Fred Q. Labelle, Yasmin Nowak and Jonathan Pattishall
Nearly 200 kilometres of road lay in front of us. From Reykjavík in the southeast to
Vík in the southwest in two days, that was our mission. That’s not at all that much,
you might note, but we had to make some stops on the way in order to delve into the
towns along the way and get a feel for their lovely people. It all took a while.
In A Van Down
By The Ocean
EXPLORING ICELAND,
THE FAROE ISLANDS OR GREENLAND
IT´S EASY WITH AIR ICELAND
ÞÓRSHÖFN
VOPNAFJÖRÐUR
TÓRSHAVN
ILULISSAT
ITTOQQORTOORMIIT
NUUK
KULUSUK
NARSARSUAQ
GRÍMSEY
ÍSAFJÖRÐUR
AKUREYRI
EGILSSTAÐIR
REYKJAVÍK
GREENLAND
ICELAND
FAROE ISLANDS