Reykjavík Grapevine - 26.08.2016, Blaðsíða 52

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After three months on this island,
it all came down to a few short
final hours and a road trip. Less
than two days before my depar-
ture from Iceland, I’d been stamp-
ing my feet at the Havarí arts
space and barn disco on the is-
land's east coast; a few hours later,
I was traversing the entire length
of the country to Keflavík for the
the plane back to Canada.
As I crouched on the floor of the
crowded airport, one of the ear-
worms from the show just a few
hours earlier burrowed its way
through my mind. "I don't wan-
na go to sleep either," a crew of
sweaty Icelanders had sung to the
sweatier crowd of revellers, who
enthusiastically shouted back the
sentiment. About 100 people had
made the trek from as far away as
Reykjavík to party with FM Belfast
at Havarí, a farm tucked away in a
fjord just east of Djúpivogur.
Driving the
South Coast
The drive to Havarí is difficult,
not for the distance or the quality
of the roads, but for the strength
of will it takes to resist the urge
to stop every few minutes to enjoy
the view. Along the 600-kilometre
stretch of road between Reykja-
vík and Berufjörður, you pass a
tremendous diversity of terrain,
from barren black moonscapes to
vibrant green moss-covered lava
fields, steep rocky cliffs to stun-
ning ocean views.
Our first stop along the way
was at Fjaðrárgljúfur, a canyon
just west of Kirkjubæjarklaustur.
Although it’s just a few kilome-
tres from the Ring Road, it feels
relatively off the beaten path. We
hike along the edge of the chasm,
which seems improbably carved
out by glacial meltwater. The trail
leads down to the canyon floor,
where we dip our feet into an icy
river, and feel dwarfed by the tow-
ering rock face.
After Kirkjubæjarklaustur, the
highway takes a relatively straight
path towards the massive Vatna-
jökull, Europe’s largest glacier. At
certain moments all colour seems
to vanish, and the surroundings
become a barren monochrome.
The glacier looms ever closer,
until its long icy tongues stretch
down from its mountain perch, as
if threatening to sweep away the
tiny cars that crawl like ants along
the highway.
Entering the East
Settlements along Iceland’s South
Coast are few and far between. An
hour after the famous Jökulsár-
lón we reach Höfn, one of the last
stops before our destination. The
town is known for its lobster, and
a dinner of langoustine tails drip-
ping in garlic sauce at Humar-
höfnin is a tasty treat after a long
day of driving. From the restau-
rant, it’s a short walk down to the
harbour, where there are views
of Vatnajökull to the west, and in
the opposite direction the sharp
peaks that signal our entry to the
eastern extremities of the island.
Although much of Iceland is
known for its flat-topped moun-
tains that appear to have had their
summits sliced off, the East is a
completely different story. Past
Höfn, the mountains begin to
take distinctly pointier shapes.
The highway hugs the mountain
slopes, teetering dangerously
close to the water’s edge as it
winds its way towards Djúpivogur,
providing astounding vistas of
these rocky peaks. As the sun be-
gins to set behind the mountains,
and as clouds begin to gather
around the mountain tops, it’s
easy to imagine that elves, trolls
or other hidden people could be
living up there, just out of reach.
When we reach Djúpivogur,
we’re tricked into thinking that
we’re nearly at our destination. But
Havarí is located on a farm called
Karlsstaðir that’s still another
45 minutes around Berufjörður,
a long fjörd that reaches about
twenty kilometres inland. At its
far end, the road turns to gravel,
and it becomes clear just how iso-
lated the farm really is.
Eventually we arrive, greeted by
a barking dog as we crunch up
the long driveway. In the dim-
ness of the mid-August evening,
the lights of Djúpivogur sparkle
across the water.
East Iceland
I Don’t
Wanna Go
To Sleep
Either
One intern’s final
road trip out east
Words ISAAC WÜRMANN Photos ART BICNICK
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 13 — 2016
52