Reykjavík Grapevine - Aug 2019, Page 29

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29doned at this time of year. Past
two closed cafés and a Foshotel
undergoing renovations, an icy
path leads down to the rocky shore,
where a large basalt tidal cave is
under assault from the high seas.
The frothy torrent smashes into the
swirling rock formations so hard
that it creates a fog of salty spray.
There are several other stops
around the tip of the peninsula. At
Lóndrangar, two huge spiked sea
stacks stand silhouetted against the
dim sky, as if in conversation. At
Djúpalónsandur, a gaggle of tour-
ists meander between the rusted
shards of a 1948 shipwreck that
now form a spectral permanent
memorial. Back at Skarðsvík, the
aftermath of yesterday’s storm is
visible: seemingly immoveable car-
sized boulders have shifted around
overnight, blocking off rock pools
and coves that were open for ex-
ploration just a day before.
We drop by the Freezer Hos-
tel and theatre in Rif to find the
owner, Kári Viðarsson, working on
some improvements to the build-
ing’s insulation in the spluttering
rain. “The waves were unusually
high yesterday,” he says, taking
a break in the cosy lounge. “The
sea was so high it was splashing
the windows of our apartments in
Hellissandur, and it pulled down
the dunes in Krossavík. The shape
of the bay has changed.” He takes
a sip of coffee, finishing: “This is a
new thing, weather like this.”
Animal nature
It isn’t only the humans who are
noticing the weather. At Ytri-Tun-
ga, the seal colony has moved clos-
er to the shore than usual into a
tucked away inlet, where twenty
or so plump animals bask on the
rocks, flopping into the water oc-
casionally to peer curiously at the
gathered crowd of observers.
In Grundarfjörður, an innumer-
able flock of seagulls are massing
over the beach. Thousands of birds
wheel in the air as one, circling
the cliffs, swooping over the white
tideline below and drawing an im-
promptu audience who’ve pulled
over to watch the spectacle unfold.
As the sky starts to dim, we
set out back towards the hotel via
the Snæfellsvegur mountain road.
Rain starts to fall as we pass the
distinctive wedge of Kirkjufell and
before long, the windscreen wipers
can’t work fast enough to sweep
away the water. We creep over the
mountain slowly, peering out into
the gloaming. In awe of the wild
nature and violent elements of
Snæfellsnes, the car is enveloped
by darkness and deluge alike, and
we’re beyond grateful when the
lights of Hótel Búðir appear once
more through the downpour.
WELCOME TO
ANOTHER WORLD
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