Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.05.2017, Blaðsíða 52

It’s an hour’s drive from the capi-
tal to Borgarnes, and, on this Good
Friday morning, old-time Southern
gospel seems a fitting soundtrack
for the familiar bucolic stretch of
Route One that normally consti-
tutes a forgettable leg of long-haul
treks northward. I’ve not even fin-
ished my first cup of joe as we glide
across the narrow causeway over
Borgarfjörður and arrive at the
rocky spit of land on which Borgar-
nes stands. The town’s proximity
to the capital—and the drab collec-
tion of gas stations and supermar-
kets that line the highway—make
it tempting to write off Borgarnes
as a scenically situated rest stop.
But turning off the Ring Road and
exploring Borgarnes reveals an un-
expectedly endearing little town,
steeped in the memory of its me-
dieval past.
Automotive graveyard

After clearing the charmless hub
of roadside amenities, we cruise
down Borgarnes’s main thorough-
fare towards the tip of the peninsu-
la. First, we explore Hlíðartúnshú-
sin, where several turf houses from
the early twentieth century remain
tucked into the rocky hillside. Con-
tinuing through the modest town
centre, we pass Skallagrímsgarður,
a small wooded park and the pur-
ported burial site of Skalla-Grímur
Kveldúlfsson, who first settled this
area in the ninth century. At the
peninsula’s end, we cross a narrow
bridge to the island of Brákarey—
a post-industrial graveyard of au-
tomotive bric-a-brac. Old cars and
buses rust in varying states of dis-
repair and a bright pink VW camp-
er stands out against the backdrop
of rocky islets jutting from wa-
ters which, at low tide, reflect the
bright afternoon sunshine. Tucked
amidst the warehouses are the
town’s Transportation Museum
and Antique Car Exhibition, which
are closed for the holiday.
After our exploratory jaunt
through town, we stop into the Set-
tlement Centre, which houses exhi-
bitions on the medieval settlement
of Iceland and Egils Saga, which
takes place chiefly in this region.
Equipped with an audio guide, we
work our way through the labyrinth
of dioramas and infographics that
help visualise the circumstances of
9th century settlers and illustrate
the lore of local hero Egill Skalla-
grímsson. With displays built of
repurposed wood and found ob-
jects, the Egils Saga exhibition in
particular is tastefully folksy.
The expressive wooden sculp-
tures that fill the exhibit were built
by artist Aðalheiður Eysteinsdót-
tir, whose congenial statues appear
in the lobbies of Icelandair hotels
throughout the country. In the
Settlement Centre’s restaurant, we
gorge ourselves on a wholesome
buffet of salads and roasted vege-
tables—a welcome departure from
the heavy fare that more commonly
fills my gut beyond Reykjavík’s city
limits. We climb the hill behind the
Settlement Centre where a monu-
ment commemorates Egill’s nurse,
Þorgerður brák, for whom Brákarey
is named. Egils Saga recounts how
Skallagrímur, Egill’s father, chased
Þorgerður into the sea here and
hurled a boulder at her, causing her
to drown and infuriating young
Egill. The grim tale taints the im-
pressive vista with an unsavoury
aftertaste.
Coffee and kitsch

We drive up one of the town’s hilly
roads to our accommodation at
Borgarnes Bed and Breakfast. Sop-
orific sunlight shines through the
home’s ample windows. The din-
ing room window affords a sweep-
ing view of the waters and islets
of Borgarfjörður, perfectly fram-
ing Litla Brákarey, a small island
that, depending on the tides, can
be reached on foot. We clamber
down to the beach to attempt the
crossing, but decide to stay on the
shore when viscous mud encases
our boots on the first step.
Drowsy from the walk, we re-
charge on coffee and cakes at Kaffi
Kyrrð, which is also the town’s flo-
rist. Kitschy décor and sanguine
platitudes (“Dream, Hope, Love”)
make Kyrrð feel more like a great-
aunt’s living room than a place of
business, and indeed the handful of
locals sitting in the café seem com-
pletely at home, chatting breezily
while sinking into couches as we
plot our next move.
Steamy baptism

The mid-spring sun begins its idle
descent as we drive forty minutes
inland along mostly dirt roads to-
wards Krosslaug hotpot. A sign in
Latin and Icelandic at the begin-
ning of the trail announces that
Icelanders from the West were bap-
tised here in the year 1000. Indeed,
the medieval Kristni Saga confirms
the proclivities of certain Iceland-
ers who eschewed cold water chris-
tening in favour of a more soothing
experience. It’s hard to blame them:
the water in the small, mossy pool
steams at a comfortable 43˚ C. We
soak for hours, undaunted by er-
rant snowflakes and glacial winds,
as the sun continues to sink behind
the mountains. By the time we re-
turn to Borgarnes, diner food is the
only hot meal available, but after
our refreshing, languid dunk, I
have no reason to complain. We re-
turn to the B&B and call it a night.
The next day, as I sip my morn-
ing coffee, the view out the dining
room window has changed com-
pletely: seas entirely encompass
Litla Brákarey and pregnant clouds
hang above. We nosh on a sump-
tuous breakfast spread whipped
up by Bertha, the proprietor of
Borgarnes Bed and Breakfast: hot
pancakes and several varieties of
freshly baked breads. Before leav-
ing, we take a final spin around
town, climbing to the hilltop
church for a final view of Borgar-
nes and the snow-peaked moun-
tains that dwarf it; nascent grassy
patches are beginning their yearly
ascent up the mountainside. After
25 minutes of driving, the spire of
Hallgrímskirkja is already visible
from the road. I’m surprised for a
moment, but then remember that
I’m already halfway home.
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Adventures Close To Home
There’s more to Borgarnes than gas stations
Distance from
Reykjavík
70 km
How to get there
Head north on Route One.
50 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 07 — 2017
Accommodation provided by
borgarnesbb.is
Relaxing in Krosslaug natural hot pot
The Settlement Centre in Borgarnes
Words: Eli Petzold
Photos: John Rogers