Reykjavík Grapevine - sep. 2020, Side 36

Hat? Check. Parka? Check. Gloves?
Check. Some people might tell you
that September is still technically
summer. Some people would be
wrong—at least when talking about
Iceland. So, what can we do instead
of sunbathing? How about some troll
hunting?
North Of The Wall
The flow of tourists is already start-
ing to ebb in Iceland, not that it was
ever more than a trickle this summer.
The wind and drizzle are also doing
their best to make the indoors look
more enticing, promising comfort,
safety from the elements and maybe
a hot beverage to warm up with, while
snuggling on a couch with a cozy blan-
ket. If you’re a wuss.
How about a trip to the northern-
most town in Iceland instead? Luckily,
I still have the opportunity to travel
to the furthest regions of the island,
thanks to it being sort of a part of my
job. But what to do so far up north?
Sure, the view from the car seat will be
great, through mountains and along
the sides of cliffs, but how much en-
tertainment can there be in the lit-
tle fishing villages we’re set to visit?
Depends on what you’re looking for
I’d say. And what I’m searching for is
famous for avoiding the sun. That’s
right, I’m about to hunt some trolls.
Trollus Rockeronis
A typical Icelandic troll tends to be
quite a grumpy fellow, sometimes suf-
fering from noise sensitivity and hav-
ing the occasional craving for human
flesh. They also have a pretty severe
allergy to sunlight. Our skin problems
are nothing compared to the constant
threat of turning to solid stone as
soon as they’re hit with the slightest
dose of vitamin D. Iceland has a lot of
folklore surrounding these guys, with
some trolls coming off more benevo-
lent than others. I’ve made it my mis-
sion to find at least some remnants
of the tales, while also enjoying the
breathtaking landscapes of the wild
north.
Over The Misty Mountains
The journey starts out early, as the
Grapevine’s faithful cameraman
Art Bicnick and I drive from Reyk-
javík through the never-ending
Hvalfjör!ur, to Borganes for some
much-needed coffee and stopping oc-
casionally for a particularly nice shot
of a mountain. The weather starts
out fine enough, with some sunshine
making the strong winds more tol-
erable as we get closer and closer to
our destination. Soon we’re headed
into the grey mist, not knowing what
awaits us on the other side.
Our first major stop is at Húnafjör-
dur, along a windy coastline, down
a cliff until we’re standing right in
front of what is supposed to be the
remnants of a troll. The big rock, just
a few meters into the sea is known as
Hvítserkur, which roughly translates
to “white coat.” Fitting as it’s coated in
white bird poo. That’s apparently what
you get for trying to smash a monas-
tery for ringing its bell and then get-
ting hit by the morning sun.
It's To Die For
The northern coastline offers an im-
pressive view over the North Atlantic
despite the drizzle. If anything, the
gloomy weather adds more atmo-
sphere. The part I’m probably the least
fond of is the mountain tunnel we have
to travel on our way in to Siglufjör!ur.
It’s a single lane for nearly a kilome-
ter. A car coming up in front of us has
to drive into one of the spaces carved
into the shoulder every few meters.
I hate every second of it. And I don’t
even consider myself claustrophobic.
Once that ordeal has passed, we
enter the historic village that started
out as a hub for fishing sharks, then
enjoyed an era of herring and became
the show place for some more modern
dark tales. In the shadow of the moun-
tains and surrounded by cute wooden
fishing houses, fictional murder has
also made its home. Author Ragnar
Jónasson made Siglufjör!ur the set-
ting for his literary Dark Iceland series
and a lot of the crime series “Trapped”
(“Ófær!“) was filmed here.
Pool With A View
As remote as the little fishing village
is, it sure has its charm. The Siglunes
Guesthouse we’re staying at not only
offers coziness but also Moroccan
cuisine by master-chef, Jaouad Hbib,
who built the reputation of the restau-
rant and changes up the menu daily.
I honestly doubt that I’ll find such a
symphony of spices again in Iceland
anytime soon. Our second day in the
north is thankfully sunnier and we
can watch the sun slowly rise over
the mountains. We head out—back
through the cursed tunnel—and stop
at Hofsós for a dip in a swimming
pool overlooking Skagafjör!ur. In the
fjord, I can also spot the small islands
Drangey and Málmey, which both have
troll stories connected to them.
Drangey is said to have been a big
cow that was led by trolls when they
all got hit by the morning sun. Málmey
is even said to be cursed! Apparently
married couples should not live on the
island for more than 20 years, lest the
wife mysteriously disappear and pos-
sibly turn into a troll. Though perhaps
you should simply not isolate your
spouse on a rock in the ocean. It might
lead to some marital friction... even if
the northern landscape of Iceland is
breathtakingly gorgeous.
Travel distance
from Reykjavík:
385 km
Accomodation:
hotelsi!lunes.is
Car provided by:
!ocarrental.is
Okay, Is This A
Rock Or A Troll?
Huntin! For Mythical Creatures In The Furthest North
Words: Catherine Magnúsdóttir Photos: Art Bicnick
Travel
Early morning autumn walk in Siglu!ör"ur
Luckily the pool is warmer than the !ord
Drangey
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36The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 07— 2020