Reykjavík Grapevine - 22.05.2015, Page 28

28 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 6 — 2015TRAVEL
But someone slipped up, let the dog out
of the bun and told my friend Hjalti about
it right before he went driving up north.
He did it. I had my own road trip to the
northern capital planned so I figured,
what the hell, let’s do this thing. I fucking
love hot dogs and eating junk food on
the road. I told my road trip mates
this would be happening—five people
squeezed into a sedan need to be aware
of the puking risk—and asked if anyone
would join me in the attempt. “No way,”
those wimps said. “When Hjalti did it,
he felt terrible after.” So what? I’m from
North America, a continent covered in
all-you-can-eat buffets, unreasonable
portions and Guy Fieri. I was born ready.

It’s not so bad!

Now I’m not usually a breakfast person,
but oddly enough, I woke up the morning
of The Seven excursion ravenously
hungry. I knew that if I waited the two
hours until my first hot dog I would
be full-on hangry (hungry + angry)
so I had an egg and toast. This may
have been a dumb idea, but I was still
excited when our car rolled into the lot
at the Ártúnsholt N1 gas station. I was
eating my first “eina með öllu” at 9:30
sharp. Within a couple of bites I could
already tell this would be the worst one
I would have. The bun was overgrilled
and dry, the sausage was shriveled and
flavourless, and the usually delicious
condiments did nothing to compensate
for either. Oh well.
At Borganes, the sun was shining,
the air was warm, and the N1 was
swarming with locals making the
Saturday-morning small-talk rounds. I
got myself another classic all-dressed
hot dog and paired it with some delicious
blue Powerade, because of electrolytes
and whatnot. I expected this one to be
really good, possibly because of the
high turnover rate that this station sees,
as my backseat-buddy Júlía pointed out.
However it was only slightly better than
the previous one, but at least the bun
and dog were significantly fresher.

What was I thinking?

Peeling out of Borganes, the car kids all
started laughing at me because the next
stop, Baulan, was supposedly just a few
minutes away. They all started taunting
me that I’d have to shove another one
down in the next three minutes and,
caving to peer pressure, I let them make
the decision to stop or keep driving. Half
an hour later we finally zoomed past
the uniquely shaped gas station! “That
wasn’t as close as I thought it was,” said
my bandmate Biggi. By that point, my
stomach had actually made a bit of room
and I could have had one, but it was too
late. I’d already failed The Seven.
Despite the setback, I rationalised
that I would press on with the next four
stops and have my Baulan dog on the
return trip. By the time we got to the
next hot dog stop, Staðarskáli, I was
genuinely craving one and it did not
disappoint. The bun was warm and just
lightly grilled, the clerk offered me a
grilled or steamed dog (steamed, takk)
and he was nice and generous with
both kinds of onions. While snacking,
I pointed out the station's animals-
of-Iceland mural and my friend Þórir
corrected, “Those are just the animals
they put in the hot dogs.” Touché.
By the time we got to Blönduós,
I was starting to feel the bread and
meat byproducts forming a brick in my
stomach. I knew it was time to have a
coffee with my hot dog—you know why—
and eating it was actually feeling like a
chore. When I went to throw away my
wrapper the wind whipped it right out of
the garbage can and away into nature.

I’ve made a huge mistake

On the way to Varmahlíð, my car-
mates reached consensus that this
would probably be the best hot dog of
all because it isn’t a large pre-fab N1
like the other stops and they use Góði
instead of SS Pylsur. However, I would
not confirm or disprove the theory at this
point. As I approached the counter I was
distracted by the
soft serve ice cream
machine. Having
already failed at The
Seven, I decided
it was time to give
up altogether. I got myself a chocolate-
dipped vanilla cone and we skipped the
last stop in Akureyri.
When we arrived at our destination
I finally met Áki, the one who had spilled
the secret to my friend Hjalti in the first
place, and told him that I had tried and
failed at the mission. Delighted with my
efforts, he finally revealed the truth: The
Seven was never some big secret. It was
just a joke and like the gullible glutton
that I am, I fell for it. We had a good
laugh, had some beers and I pooped a
whole bunch that night.
Final verdict: my
friends were right not
to join me. I didn’t even
have five and I felt
terrible. But even if it
was all a joke, I would be impressed by
anyone who could make it through The
Seven. And for the record, I did have hot
dogs at Varmahlíð and Baulan on the
way back. They were excellent.
The people of Akureyri have been keeping a secret from
us Capital Region folk. It’s called The Seven. For years now,
while driving the four-and-a-half-to-six-hour road trip be-
tween the North and South, many northerners have made
it common practice to eat one hot dog at each of the seven
pit stops between Akureyri and Reykjavík, and they didn’t
tell us about it because they think we’re just a bunch of city
slicker suckers.
Words
RX Beckett
Photos
Art Bicnick
The
Seven
Driving to Akureyri one
hot dog at a time
TVEIR HRAFNAR listhús, Art Gallery
Baldursgata 12 101 Reykjavík (at the corner of Baldursgata and Nönnugata, facing Þrír Frakkar Restaurant)
Phone: +354 552 8822 +354 863 6860 +354 863 6885 art@tveirhrafnar.is www.tveirhrafnar.is
Opening hours: Thu-Fri 12pm - 5pm, Sat 1pm - 4pm and by appointment +354 863 6860
TVEIR HRAFNAR
listhús, Art Gallery
offers a range of artwork by
contemporary Icelandic artists
represented by the gallery,
selected works by acclaimed
artists and past Icelandic
masters.
Guðbjörg Lind Jónsdóttir
Hallgrímur Helgason
Húbert Nói Jóhannesson
Jón Óskar
Óli G. Jóhannsson
Steinunn Þórarinsdóttir
Also works by:
Hadda Fjóla Reykdal
Hulda Hákon
Sara Oskarsson
Nína Tryggvadóttir
Kristján Davíðsson
- among others
HULDA HÁKON
14 MAY - 20 JUNE 2015
“I’m from North
America, a continent
covered in all-you-
can-eat buffets, un-
reasonable portions
and Guy Fieri. I was
born ready.”
The Akureyri Seven
The stops