Reykjavík Grapevine - 03.06.2016, Page 57

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It’s almost 2pm when our tiny pro-
peller plane passes over the glossy
white mountains that mark Ice-
land’s northern coastline. I press
my face to the cold glass to see the
fjords below. They’re vast and un-
dulating, full of intriguing nooks
that seem to invite exploration.
But today, we’re leaving the
sub-Arctic island of Iceland en-
tirely. Soon, the plane banks,
and the island of Grímsey comes
into view. It’s even tinier than I’d
imagined—a rocky outcrop, 39
km north of the mainland, that
fits into one small cabin window,
like a single comma in the North
Atlantic.
At 1030 metres long, the air-
port's runway is about 20% of the
island’s length, but we still need to
brake rapidly during our landing.
As the door opens, we immediate-
ly feel a chill in the air. Grímsey
sits at the threshold of the Arctic
Circle, and although it’s not far
from the mainland, the difference
is tangible.
Puffin island
We’re greeted by Ragnheiður, also
known as Grímsey’s own “Lady
Gagga.” She’s the owner of Guest-
house Básar, and also works at the
airport, amongst other things.
With her is Anna María, who
owns Gullsól, the other guest-
house on the island. “You can stay
in either,” laughs Gagga. “There’s
no competition, don’t worry!” We
opt for Gullsól, and Anna packs
us into her 4x4 for a tour of the
island—or, at least, the portion
with roads. “You came at a good
time,” she says. “The puffins ar-
rived yesterday.”
Within minutes, we’re bounc-
ing along a coastal track next to
some sheer cliffs. “There they
are!” says Anna, and sure enough,
we see not one, but hundreds of
bright-billed puffins, diving from
the clifftop as we approach. “The
newspapers like to write about
them coming back,” says Anna,
“so we keep a lookout. We hunt
them, too—there’s been some de-
bate about stopping, because it up-
sets the tourists. But it’s a big part
of the island’s tradition.”
The lighthouse keeper
We cruise through Sandvík, Grím-
sey’s only town. Its two streets
hold a gas-powered electricity
plant that chugs 24/7, a tiny store,
a cafe that’s still closed for win-
ter, and a school that also acts as
a community centre. We don’t see
a single person. “There are only
about thirty people on the island
right now,” says Anna. “A lot of the
fisherman are out at sea.”
At the end of the road is the is-
land’s lighthouse. Anna’s father,
Bjarni, is the lighthouse keeper,
like his father before him. "The
guest book goes back to the 1930s,”
says Bjarni, as his daughter trans-
lates. “You used to have to pay half
a króna to come inside, which was
quite a lot back then.” I sign the
book, and leaf through the pages,
watching the gradual deteriora-
tion from the pristine, slanted
penmanship of the 20th century
into the messy handwriting of the
90s and 00s, and, finally, my own
scrawled name.
Bjarni fires up the light array,
and we climb a ladder to see the
view, warmed by the powerful
revolving bulbs. From looking at
maps, I’d imagined that Grímsey
would be far from the mainland,
but in reality, the entire southern
horizon is a magnificent vista of
Iceland’s snowy northern coast-
line, glowing a gentle pink as eve-
ning approaches.
To the end
The next morning, after a night of
aurora made brighter by the lack
of light pollution, we set out to
hike the island. Grímsey’s south-
ern coast is lined by spectacular
basalt cliffs. The geometric pillars
have eroded over time to form a
58 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 7 — 2016TRAVEL
Grímsey
Living On The Edge
Three days on Grímsey,
Iceland’s Arctic island
Words by JOHN ROGERS
Pictures by ART BICNICK