Reykjavík Grapevine - 09.12.2016, Side 54

Seen from Iceland’s Ring Road, the
Eastfjords seem like a sparsely oc-
cupied stretch of undulating fjords
and mountainous wilderness,
punctuated by small towns, farms
and patches of reforested wood-
land. But Route One turns inland
one fjord before Reyðarfjörður—
the long, tendril-like inlet that
leads to the coastal towns of
Reyðarfjörður and Eskifjörður
and, across the Oddskarð moun-
tain range, Iceland’s easternmost
town of Neskaupstaður.
We set out for Neskaupstaður
at 7pm, an hour after the sun
has left the sky. The glow of Eg-
ilsstaðir soon fades into the dis-
tance, plunging us into darkness
on the unlit road. Soon, my eyes
adjust, and the bright, almost-full
moon—closer to the earth than
any time this millennium—casts
a ghostly glow over the scenery
around us, hinting at the scale of
the mountains that flank Route 92.
To the west, the bright moonlight
glistens on the high, snowy slopes
and peaks. To the east, it haloes the
jagged mountaintops.
It comes as a surprise to round
a long bend and suddenly see the
lights of Reyðarfjörður spread out
in the fjord below. By Icelandic
standards, it looks like a hidden
metropolis. We cruise through
the town slowly past seaside in-
dustrial buildings, a large har-
bour area, and ranks of apartment
buildings, their lights glimpsed
through heavy mist. Twenty min-
utes of snowy mountain road lat-
er comes Eskifjörður. It looks like
a tiny village on the map, but it ac-
tually coats the fjord’s far coast-
line with glittering lights.
A f ter driv ing a treacher-
ous mountain road and passing
through the gated single-lane
tunnel of Oddskarðsgöng, we ar-
rive at Hotel Hildibrand in Nes-
kaupstaður. The tourist season
has come to a close, and there’s
only one other guest in the hotel.
We’re alone in the restaurant,
where the dual receptionist and
waiter serves up hot seafood soup
and local lamb shanks, before
showing us into a large, luxurious
apartment for the night. I look out
the window at the vague moun-
tainous shapes across the fjord,
and go to sleep eager to see the
morning view.
The good life
It’s snowing heavily come day-
break, and the high peaks appear
only intermittently through the
thick flurries. I go for a morning
dip in the local pool, which has
perfect outdoor hot pots, a slide
for kids, and a view out across
the snowy fjord. A wall of steam
rises into the dark morning sky
as locals sit soaking and chatting,
preparing for their day. Life in
Neskaupstaður seems calm and
gently paced.
Back at the Hildibrand, the ho-
tel’s owner—the locally born and
raised Guðröður Hákonarson—
offers to show us around town.
He moves aside a tray of fresh
eggs—”we have chickens to sup-
ply the hotel,” he smiles—and we
climb into his jeep to cruise past
the town’s harbour, hospital, a
snowed-in golf course and a local
history museum that’s closed for
the winter.
“1200 people live here,” says
Guðröður. “It's a big city, for Ice-
land. We have the biggest fish fac-
tory in the country, and 24% of
all Iceland’s aluminium and fish
exports leave from Eskifjörður,
Reyðarfjörður, Fáskrúðsfjörður
and Neskaupstaður.”
Guðröðu r i s a fa r mer by
trade—his lamb and potatoes are
on the menu in the Hildibrand—
but as we bounce along the track
to the mouth of a new, almost-
complete tunnel to Eskifjörður,
he explains that the hotel in-
creasingly monopolises his time.
He hopes that, in the long term,
tourism will create jobs to keep
the town’s young people from mi-
grating to Reykjavík, and further
afield.
"I love the tunnel,” he enthus-
es, as we climb out of the car and
tread around the tunnel’s drip-
ping black mouth. “It’s good for
the hospital, the fishing industry,
the hotel, the Eistnaflug music
festival—it's good for everything
here. It helps mobility. People will
be able to move around and work.
The hospital employs 50 people,
and we have the aluminium
smelter, so there are jobs here.
Many of our young people go to
Reykjavík to school, and we want
them to come back with what they
have learned.”
“It's a good life here,” finishes
Guðröður. “The countryside is
great for hiking. Kids can go to
the harbour, pull out a fish, and
walk home safely. If there's any
problem, the parents just talk
to each other. I love this simple
small-town life."
Whiteout
Back in town, the snowstorm is
worsening. We check the weather
report, and notice an imminent
dip in the snowfall and wind
speed. It’s the only chance we’ll
have to head back inland and beat
the coming blizzard.
On the road, it quickly becomes
apparent quickly that we’ll see
even less of the fjord on our re-
turn journey than we did the night
before. The snowstorm is heavier
than anticipated, and we crawl
along the road at 20kmph with
the hazard lights on, often losing
sight of another car just ahead and
using the yellow roadside posts as
a guide. Visibility is close to zero.
It’s a harrowing drive, and I’m
relieved when the weather clears
around Egilsstaðir. The road is
closed not long after.

As we take off into the storm after
a short and teasing glimpse of life
in the Eastfjords, I’m left with a
heightened rather than sated cu-
riosity about the twists and turns
of this remote and secretive part
of Iceland.
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A flying visit to Neskaupstaður,
Iceland’s easternmost town
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 18 — 2016
54
Far East
Words JOHN ROGERS Photos ART BICNICK
Distance from
Reykjavík
707 km
Car provided by
europcar.is
Flight provided by
airiceland.is
Accommodation
provided by Hotel Hildibrand
- hildibrand.com
How to get there
Take Route 1 or fly to
Egilsstaðir, then take Route 92