Today started with promise. It looked to be another hot, sunny day. Howard and I decked out accordingly in shorts and sandals, and sat in the sunshine to eat our breakfast. We considered a bike ride, but thought it might get too hot, so opted to leave it until the evening, when it might be cooler.

So instead, we decided on a short trip northwards to Skagen (pronounced skain), to the most northerly tip of Denmark. Within minutes of setting out, the clouds started gathering. By the time we arrived, in retribution for moaning yesterday about being too hot, the weather started to look decidedly dodgy. First we explored the town, which was much larger than we had expected. Typical of Denmark, it was spotless and very well ordered. All the buildings in the old town are painted ochre, with red roofs. Apparently it is local custom that every Whitsuntide, everyone re-paints their homes in ochre and lime, so maintaining the pristine and uniform appearance.  

My guide book had recommended the Skagen Museum cafe as a good place to eat – so we headed there for coffee and a bowl of soup. It was indeed lovely, the cafe set in peaceful gardens, with a profusion of beautiful pink peonies growing all around. As we left the cafe, it started to drizzle. Undeterred, we had a quick look around the town. They seem to specialise in museums in Skagen. As well as the town museum, there was a Teddy Bear Museum and an Artist’s Museum. Apparently the luminous light in Skagen is favoured by artists, a little like St. Ives in Cornwall, and has given rise to the ‘Skagen School’ of artists.

We then headed up to the peninsula. By now the rain had truly started. The top at Grenan is a narrow stretch of dunes, with sandy beaches either side. The very tip is just a few metres wide where the waters of Kattegat and Skagerrak meet, and you can put a foot in either ocean. Since, by now, the rain was of stair-rod variety, we opted to make the journey out to the point in a Sandormen, which translates as ‘Sand Worm’. This actually sounds much more exciting than it really is – in reality it turns out to be a tractor-driven carriage. The benefit of this mode of travel though is that it is rain-proof.

So a hardy group of us set off on the short journey out to the point. When we arrived, it was raining so hard, that some of the passengers opted not to even get off the vehicle to have a look, but of course, we did. Stood at the water’s edge was a group of young girls who had obviously walked out to the point, but were mightily relieved to see that a means of transporting them back had just arrived. 

As I walked around to take a photo of the Sand Worm before getting back on board, who should appear but David Bailey again. As I looked up, there he was, taking photos of the young tourists. First a pair of Oriental girls, and then, seeing that this was his thing, another larger group asked him to take their photo. It really is beyond comprehension how often he manages to get asked to take people’s pictures!

Very bedraggled from our trip, we headed back to Oscar to dry out. We got chatting to an English couple who had spotted our GB plates, and wanted to know about our trip – I think all the flags on the inside were a bit of a giveaway!

Back at the campsite, we decided to pop the few yards along the road to a restaurant we had spotted. The menu was only in Danish, so Howard tried to use his special ‘Translate App’. ‘Ah’, he said, ‘Hospitalised Shrimps!’ Clearly, the App isn’t that good! We ended up eating our bodyweight in fish. Howard opted for their tray of six fish, cooked in different ways – smoked mackerel, hot smoked salmon, fish cakes, prawns, some sort of fish terrine and a grilled fish of unknown origin. If you think that sounds a lot, the size of my fish and chips was humungous. The piece of cod fell off both sides of the plate. Needless to say, Howard ended up with seven pieces of fish – his six, plus quite a lot of mine. I’m hoping all that fish oil will be good for his hair!

Tomorrow we catch the ferry to Sweden. Not many photos today because of the weather – the sunset was taken last night, from the beach by our campsite. We will leave Denmark with very fond memories – a lovely country with charming friendly people. Definitely a place to return to in future.

P.S. Have just managed to add photos for Days 147 and 148 that couldn’t previously add, in case anyone interested!

Yesterday evening turned out to be a right hooley. After our G & T in the bar, we de-camped to the restaurant, having decided to treat ourselves on the last night, and also frankly fed up with, by now, very warm cheese and biscuits.

It seemed strangely quiet in the restaurant. After we finished our meal, we decided to have coffee back in the lounge bar, before heading off to bed. As we approached, we heard the now familiar sound of the accordionists. As we walked into the lounge, we discovered where the rest of the passengers had gathered. It was completely heaving with people, all standing in circles, linking arms, like in ‘Auld Lang Syne’, singing their hearts out. It was truly a sight to behold. The singing was being lead by a rather plump gentlemen in a bright red velvet jacket. There was not a single soul in the entire room (and it is a large room) who wasn’t singing and joining in the fun. Howard and I just chuckled to ourselves. Never before had a ferry trip been so eventful.

The group singing and dancing went on until 11.30pm. I suspect it was supposed to finish earlier, since I gathered on at least two occasions that they were playing the last song. I must admit that this whole episode was quite infectious. I found myself tapping my feet, and humming along. Howard even had a little jig.

Eventually the lights went bright, and people started making their way back to their cabins, all with smiles on their faces.

This morning was tough. The tannoy came on at 7am to say that we would be arriving in Denmark in the next hour, and we were to vacate our cabins. The mood amongst the passengers was definitely subdued, as we all sat quietly waiting for the car deck to open.

As predicted, we were the last car out, bar one other. We were completely wedged behind a small truck, whose canopy was less than a centimetre from one of our wing mirrors. Howard stood protectively guarding Oscar, like a worried parent.

Eventually disembarked, we headed for town to stock up on supplies and do some chores. Howard was in desperate need of a haircut, as am I. We found a barbers, but all the female salons were closed. Despite just asking for a tidy up, the barber set forth on Howard’s hair with gusto. He came out a new man. A new grey man! The barber had somehow managed to cut all his brown bits off, much to my horror. Every time I look at him now, I’m wondering who is this in the van with me?!

We returned to the campsite where we stayed the night before catching the ferry to Iceland, nearly a month ago. We needed to return here, since a certain person (and it wasn’t me), purchased a new Camping Gaz cylinder here, but was so busy gassing to the woman, that he left it behind on the counter. We realised the error as soon as we had landed in Iceland, and called the campsite, who agreed to keep it for us until we returned. We ended up cooking in the van much less than we had anticipated whilst in Iceland, largely due to the poor weather, so as it turned out, we hadn’t needed this spare cylinder after all.

We had just set up camp in our previous pitch, and put the table and chairs out, when a sodding ‘Great White’ came and parked up right next to us (despite there being an entire field to pick from), and faced themselves so that they are looking straight into our van. What is it about these people?!! Howard looked their vehicle up on Google – it is an all-singing, all-dancing £108,000 vehicle. Who would spend all that money, and then spend their vacation parked within two feet of us? I have given Howard full permission to snore all night long!

The rest of the day was spent doing chores. We filled three huge washing machines with dirty washing (none of the campsites or guest houses had washing facilities in Iceland), and tried to plan for the next stage of our trip.

Having been chilled to the core in Iceland, we are now finding the weather way too hot for us. This afternoon, the temperature must have reached thirty degrees, and we just wilted in the heat. I know – there’s no pleasing some people.

We have an early night planned, after our abrupt start this morning. Hopefully, the ‘Big White’s’ TV won’t keep us awake. Otherwise, I might have to set Howard off singing his bass part from Oklahoma. Okla – homa! Okla -homa! That should do the trick!

I leave you with just a few photos from last night – the band, the Compere, the audience dancing, and Howard dancing (sorry rather dark)! Also check out the new grey man!|

Today, we face a whole day at sea – yawn. Just after breakfast, we passed the Shetlands. This time, disappointingly, our phones didn’t ping in with ‘Welcome to the UK’, and neither was the sun shining, as on our outward trip. Howard did take a wander up on deck, whilst I was typing the blog, and reported that the ‘Oom-Pa’ band were still playing though, in the bar on the deck. I suspect by the end of the day, therefore, that most of the passengers will be rather inebriated, as this is their only source of entertainment!

OK – a brief update on the ferry status. I have just done a couple of laps of the boat, whilst waiting for photos to download. Three hours on, the accordian players are still up on deck, in the covered bar, playing their hearts out! There are twelve people sitting in the lounge with us, five in the duty free shop, four sitting in the corridor seats, four up on deck – one doing yoga, one drinking a large bottle of beer, and an elderly couple reading. Everyone else appears to be in the covered bar on deck, drinking profusely, and singing heartily in Danish. The band have now handed out booklets with the words to their songs. It’s utterly hilarious! It’s half past one in the afternoon, and they are showing no sign of stopping this never-ending performance. I spoke to one of the band members between songs. They are a famous accordion group in the Faroes. They are travelling to Denmark, staying briefly, then returning to the Faroes. They certainly have a captive audience here, and they are going for it. I have never, in my life, seen such a happy group of ferry passengers! By the end of today, I may know the words to some of their songs! Howard may be insane!

Final update! Just returned to our room to find two sweet little old ladies in the room opposite us, dancing down the corridor back to their room, rather tottery, humming one of the accordionists songs. Back up in the ‘sky Bar’ on deck – the musicians are still playing, although only two of them now (this is 6pm, seven hours after they started)! In their music cases sit empty bottles of vodka – every picture tells a story. There is an over-riding stench of stale beer and bacon on deck, but you’ll be pleased to hear that the passengers are still singing!! You couldn’t make it up!

P.S. Still no photos – the ship’s WiFi seems to have gone the same way as most of the passengers. So, if you can’t beat them, join them – we’re off to ‘Happy Hour’.

After only a night on board, I am starting to feel like a caged animal. There is only so much that you can do on board a boat – eat, sleep and look out to sea. After breakfast in our cabin, we treated ourselves to coffee and cake in the lounge. The barman remembered us from the outward trip. ‘You’ll be needing a knife to cut the pastry in half, I guess?”. I find it hard to believe that we are the only people on this boat that share a large pastry, but maybe we are?

By late morning, the trip started to become exciting again – we were approaching the Faroes. They came in sight at about 11am, but we did not finally dock til gone three. 

The islands slowly got closer and closer.

Within a mile or so of reaching the narrow channel between some of the islands, a dolphin  leapt out of the water, as if to greet us. It circled the boat, before eventually disappearing off into the ocean. It felt as if it was welcoming us to the Faroes.

We stood on deck for two hours or so, watching the looming grey /green cliffs go past. Occasionally, we would see tiny little communities nestled on the shore of the fjords. So isolated, it is hard to understand how these people survive.

Eventually we docked at Torshavn, the capital. Like before, we had opted to book a trip out to see the island. Last time, our guide had been a charming lady who lived in Torshavn, with a gentle lilting voice and kindly disposition. This time we ended up with the Faroe’s version of Tom Jones – loud, brash, constantly laughing at his own jokes, and bursting into song. I preferred the lady!

The coach took us off across the island of Streymoy, where the capital is sited, and across the bridge onto the neighbouring island of Eysturoy. A 7km tunnel is currently being constructed between the islands, but for now, the only communication is a bridge at the narrowest point, across the range of mountains behind the capital and northwards. The scenery en route was stunning. Huge rugged mountains and deep fjords. The guide told us that the long fjord between the two islands had been a base for the British Navy in the North Atlantic in the 2nd World War. It made me wonder if perhaps my dad had ever been here, when he served on destroyers in the war as a WT Operator.

As before, we saw hundreds of sheep grazing the slopes. Unlike in Iceland, many of the Faroese sheep only seemed to have one lamb. In Iceland, every sheep had two – such that the rules of the road were that if a sheep wandered into the road, you waited for the other two to pass. With a population of 50,000 people, sheep outnumber the population by two to one. We passed many fish farms in the fjords, and then a fish processing plant. We were told that at it’s peak, the plant was processing between 1,000 and 2,000 tons of herring and mackerel per day, that was being caught off the Faroese waters. No surprise, therefore, to discover that 95% of the Faroese income comes from fishing.

We eventually came to a charming little fishing village in the far north eastern tip of Eysturoy called Gjogv. This quiet little village is set closed in by the mountains, and with the harbour set in a deep natural gorge in the rock. I read that in rough seas, the fishing boats are winched out of the harbour to prevent them from smashing into the rocky walls of the cleft. A simple white and green church stands at the foot of the village. It was here that the first consecration service was held in Faroese, marking a milestone in the acceptance of Faroese as the national language, rather than Danish. A sculpture of a mother and two children by the church commemorate all the fisherman lost at sea over the years. In 1870, half the male population of the village were lost at sea, when two eight men boats went down. At the quayside, Howard and I watched a fisherman washing and gutting his catch of the day – a good haul. Clearly the waters here are still teeming with fish, which explains why the Faroes opted not to join the EU, like it’s Danish rulers, for fear of losing their fishing rights.

On the way back to Torshavn, I realised why I loath coach trips so much. Passing one fjord, we saw a group of people hauling a rowing boat out onto the beach. At the next fjord, we saw two rowing boats out on the water. They looked virtually identical to our Scottish rowing skiffs, except they seemed to have six sets of oars, three each side, with the rowers sitting alongside each other. Howard and I were itching to stop and look, but the coach just went sailing past, the guide more interesting in telling one of his awful jokes. It also made us think of home – conscious that our brilliant Wormit rowers had bagged a haul of medals at the Broughty Regatta last weekend – a first for the club, and very well deserved.

By the time we arrived back at Torshavn, it was time to board the boat again. As we pulled into the dock, our guide burst into song again – Shirley Bassey’s ‘My Way’ – there are no words! Frustratingly, then boat then was late leaving, meaning that we could have spent another hour or so wandering around Torshavn. The delay was made more bearable by a group of Faroese who had just joined our boat. These eight men were a group of accordionists who play as a band, and they proceeded to entertain the passengers with a spontaneous concert of accordion ‘Oom-Pa’ music, both in the lounge, and then up on the deck. It just made us smile, as all the Danish speaking passengers joined in singing with the music. A lovely way to end the day.

It was a beautiful sunny day in Seydisfjordur. We occupied our time before catching the ferry taking a walk around the town, and doing a bit of last minute shopping. In one of the craft shops, we bought Howard a jumper. The lady, who had knitted them all herself, seemed intent on Howard buying one three sizes too big. She also seemed to feel that he should go for a manly colour, like grey or black. His attempts to try on more colourful versions were met by a frown from the lady. Eventually, we compromised, and bought him a blue one, with a green pattern. I still suspect he has picked a ladies jumper, but who cares. We then proceeded to have a very leisurely lunch at the local Icelandic restaurant, trying to eek out the time before catching the ferry. It was so warm, we opted to eat outside. Ironically, this was the warmest day that we had experienced in Iceland – the day we were leaving. The food was superb – fresh fish caught locally, with a shared rhubarb crumble to finish. Rhubarb is another of Iceland’s favourite cuisine’s, along with liquorice. We have seen it growing profusely throughout the island – presumably it can tolerate the harsh climate that Iceland has to offer. 

Eventually, it was time to say goodbye to Iceland. We queued up behind other vehicles, but were then placed first in Line 1 to drive onto the ferry – so ended up being put on first. No doubt this will mean that we come off last in Denmark, which is fine by us, since trying to drive out of the ridiculously tight space in which we have been squeezed will be tricky.

This time we have come onto the ferry better prepared than on the outward trip. Not only was the bought food mediocre, it was also exorbitantly expensive. So we have taken on board breakfast cereal, yoghurt, orange juice, and a selection of cheese and biscuits. The ferry is much quieter than the outward trip. Previously, we had a large group of Germans on a Viking Cruise, who had filled the lounge area, and watched films on Iceland and the Faroes in German. So it will be much quieter travelling back.

It was still ‘Happy Hour’ in the bar after we boarded, so Howard and I treated ourselves to a Hendricks, after our tea of cheese and biscuits. My memory is obviously very short-lived. The combination of gin and two Stugeron rendered me unconscious until nine o’clock the next morning – the best sleep I have had in weeks!

We had a lovely evening last night in Faskrudsfjordur. We ate in the hotel restaurant, locally sourced salmon and lamb, both of which were delicious. Our room looked out over the fjord, and when at 2.30 am I woke for a pee, I looked out of the window to see that the sun was rising, casting a pink glow over the snow laden slopes of the fjord. 

After breakfast, before leaving Faskrudsfjordur, we took a look around the museum, sited in one of the buildings now owned by the hotel, but formerly the French Hospital. I’m not a great one for museums generally, but this one was superb, displaying lots of the medical equipment used at the time. In the basement, was a really realistic mock-up of inside one of the fishing vessels, showing how the French crewman would have lived for months at a time – it was fascinating. There was also an old photograph showing all the French fishing vessels in the fjord – literally thirty or forty at a time, in this narrow fjord. All the fish caught were preserved in salt, and returned to Europe. 

Eventually we headed on our way, and planned a coffee stop at Reydarfjordur, a small community along the next fjord northwards. We pulled into a lay-by just above the town to admire the view. Also parked in the lay-by was a red California, one of the few we have spotted on our journey around Iceland. The young couple came across to talk to us. They had just arrived on the ferry that morning, having spent a week on the Faroes. They were also planning spending a year travelling around Europe. The guy had fought in Afghanistan for the British Army, and lost a leg, so was taking this opportunity to travel. He had previously done an expedition to Greenland, trekking across the ice shelf. We spend quite a while chatting with them and comparing notes, and gave them some tips on good places to visit and stay whilst in Iceland. We have yet to meet a fellow California owner that we haven’t immediately bonded with – I suspect we all share a bit of an intrepid spirit.

After coffee, we continued on to Egilsstadir. Rather than head straight to Seydisfjordur, we decided on a slight excursion inland along Lake Logurinn. The whole route alongside the lake was lined with purple lupins, growing like weeds, but producing a profusion of colour. It turns out that these are not native plants – they are Alaskan lupins introduced in the 1800s. However, they serve a useful purpose, since they help re-vitalise eroded soil by fixing nitrogen and stabilising the soil. In addition, all along the lakeside, there has been a massive project of re-forestation. Throughout the whole trip, we have seen very few trees in Iceland. Previous generations had chopped all the native trees down for firewood and for boat and house building. The Icelanders are now starting to plant trees again, in an attempt to help soil erosion. So the fauna along this route was very different from anything we had seen on our travels around the island. The lake itself was a milky white colour, and, like Loch Ness, has become famous for sporadic sightings of a ‘Monster Worm’ seen swimming in the deep lake.

We came to a splendid looking turf-roofed house which had been home to Gunner Gunnerson, a famous Icelandic author. In the restaurant on site, they were offering a ‘cake buffet’, but neither of us fancied a mountain of cakes, so opted for a modest slice of banana bread instead.

We then re-traced our steps, through Eglisstadir and on to Seydisfjordur, crossing the high mountain pass Fjardarheidi, 620 metres above sea-level. Three weeks ago, when we had arrived in Iceland, we drove from the ferry in a snowstorm over this pass, which was white with thick snow. Today, on our return trip, the sun was shining, and the roads clear of snow. There was still plenty of the white stuff lying on the ground, but a considerable amount had melted in the few weeks since we had passed through. Seydisfjordur looked splendid as we drove down off the mountain, and into the town. Our ferry was sat there at the docks, in the shadow of the fjord. 

Tomorrow we board, and head back to Denmark, via the Faroes. It’s sad to think our time in Iceland is nearly at an end. It has been quite an amazing experience, and nothing can prepare you for the totally awesome scenery. Undoubtedly one of the highlights of our trip. I somehow doubt it can be matched, but I’m prepared to be proven wrong.

Today has been quite spectacular. Words cannot describe the scenery east of Hofn, as we drove towards the East Fjords. We set off with myself driving, but the scenery was just so stunning, that it was really hard to make any real progress along the road. Every five minutes, I would screech to a halt beside the road to take a photo. The mountains looked dramatic in the subdued sunlight, which highlighted all the layers and different colours due to the growth of lichen. After an hour or so, Howard asked whether the photos might all look a little similar – ‘lots of rocks’ was I think his comment! This , of course, was code for ‘Stop taking all these photos, and just drive’. Eventually, he could take no more, and jumped in the driving seat, eager to reach our designated coffee stop before lunch time. We arrived at Djupivogur just after one. It was a pleasant fishing town, sitting at the entrance to Berufjordur, a long steep sided fjord. The town has a pretty harbour, and a museum, housed in a long red building overlooking the harbour. We sat at a table outside the Museum, and had our belated morning coffee in the sunshine.

We then continued on, driving along Berufjordur. We had not anticipated the 8km stretch of gravel road that we then encountered. We were driving on Route 1, Iceland’s main ring road – but suddenly the tarmac stopped, and we were met with a very stoney pot-holed stretch of road. The extraordinary thing was that just after the gravel finished, and the tarmac re-started again, someone had been along with spray paint to mark out the slight irregularities in the tarmac road. This was within two yards of where the exceedingly uneven and bumpy gravel road had stopped. The mind boggled. So, you are going to repair these tiny little imperfections in the tarmac road, after making us drive for 8km along a frankly despicable piece of gravel track!

However, we survived our bone shaking experience, and continued on along the northern flank of Berufjordur, to a fishing village called Breidalsvik. Nothing much seemed to go on here apart from fishing, so we continued to wind our way northwards, following the undulations of the fingers of fjords. All along the route, we saw purple lupins blooming at he side of the road, growing like weeds. For a relatively short distance, as the crow flies, it took us most of the day to reach Faskrudsfjordur, our stop off for tonight.

This is idyllic settlement, set in the most glorious steep sided fjord, lined with snowy mountains. We have treated ourselves to a night in a hotel, and, it is to die for! It sits right by the side of the fjord, and our room looks across the fjord to the mountains beyond. The town of Faskrudsdfjorsdur has a huge French influence. From the 16th century until World war 1, this fjord was host to the French fishing fleet. Approximately three hundred French fishing vessels operated out of this fjord, catching predominantly cod. Around Iceland there were a thousand French fishing boats at their peak, and as a result, a French Hospital ship serviced the fleet. When this ship sank, a French Hospital was sited in this fjord to tend to the French fisherman, and was actually sited in the hotel where we are currently staying. The French influence in Faskrudsdjordur remain, with all street names being in both Icelandic and French.

The town of Faskrudsjrdur is divine. It’s setting is sublime, looking out over the fjord, and the buildings are simple, but traditionally Icelandic, with brightly coloured wrought iron roofs. It has been a lovely place to spend our penultimate evening in Iceland. We started off in the Eastern Fjords, and this is where we have returned to – with it’s natural beauty and lack of mass tourism. Tomorrow we make our way along to Seydisfordur, where we will catch our ferry back to Denmark.

It has been a very special experience spending time here in Iceland. Nothing I can say will convey the sheer beauty of this country. Despite it’s wind and rain, it is an extraordinary place to visit. It hasn’t been without it’s trials, but has undoubtedly been one of the highlights of our trip to date.

Today we bade farewell to Thomas and Katy. The taxi came to pick them up at 5am, so Howard and I got an early start, which was just as well, since we had a long drive ahead of us.

The city was quiet as we left, and set off eastwards again along Route 1. This was the trip we had done a week earlier in the pouring rain, so it was good to see the scenery this time under better conditions. We decided to split the trip into four segments, so that we could switch over with the driving, and do a bit of sightseeing.

First stop was Selfoss for breakfast, at a cafe we had found with Thomas and Katy. Next stop was Vik. On the two previous occasions we had passed by here, the weather had been atrocious. However, today, contrary to the weather forecast, the sun came out. We headed down to the black sand beach, where you can see the famous rock stacks in the distance, known as the the Troll Rocks, and where previously you had been able to walk under the basalt cliffs and see a sea cave. Today, we found access to the beach cordoned off. Initially we had thought it was because the entire area is a nature reserve for puffins and other sea birds. But then we saw a notice saying that several people had died after being swept away by strong waves at the base of the basalt cliffs. So instead we followed the designated path along the cliff tops and admired the view. The wind was so strong, that at times it was hard to stand, but it blew away the cobwebs, and gave us a break from the driving. We also spotted the odd puffin or two peeking out from their burrows.

We then headed eastwards until we came to Skaftafell National Park, on the edge of the glacial ice cap. Our destination was a waterfall called Svartifoss. In order to reach it, we had to hike for about three kilometres, but the walk was worth it. Although not particularly high or broad, the Svartifoss waterfall plunges into a pool surrounded by an amphitheatre of hexagonal basalt columns, giving it the nickname the Black Falls. It was certainly an impressive sight as the sun glinted onto the basalt columns.

We continued on our way, to the last pit stop of our drive – another quick peek at Jokulsarlon, the glacial lagoon filled with icebergs. We had, of course, already visited here last week, but were unable to drive past again without a final look. The sun was strong, but lower in the sky than on our last visit, so the lagoon had taken on a very different appearance. Also, this time, the tide was coming in, causing the icebergs to move around the entrance to the lagoon, rather than flowing out into the sea. Once more, Howard and I just stood and stared – it is such a magical sight, and one which you could never get bored with.

Sadly though, by now it was getting late, so we tore ourselves away, and drove the final leg of our journey towards Hofn. We parked up, and headed straight to the Pizza Restaurant, where Howard treated himself to a ‘Lobster Festival’ – an interesting take on a pizza. 

We are now back on track to catch our ferry in a couple of days time. First we have the Eastern Fjords to explore, as we make our way back to Seydisfjordur. It’s hard to believe that we have been here in Iceland three weeks already. There’s so much we haven’t been able to see, but we have definitely fallen in love with the place. The scenery is just out of this world – very different from anywhere else we have ever visited. But if there’s one place in Iceland I would urge anyone to visit, it would be Jokulsarlon. Icebergs rock!

We have just spent a wonderful four days with Thomas and Katy. It was lovely to see them again, particularly so since this was the first time we had seen them since they got engaged. They had told us the news by Facetime some weeks ago, whilst we were sitting in St. Marks Square in Venice. It had seemed a very apt place to find out – such a romantic setting, and it had given us a good excuse to celebrate. So to meet them off the plane from Glasgow was especially exciting for us, and to welcome Katy into the family, so to speak.

The first two days of their trip we based ourselves out in the countryside, near Hekla. We hit the tourist trail, and did part of the Golden Circle with them, visiting Gulfoss waterfall and Geysir.  We also returned to the Seljalandsfoss waterfall. This time there was no chickening out – Howard, Thomas and Katy decided that they would walk behind the waterfall. I was put on photographic duty. So, kitted out in waterproofs, they took the narrow path behind the roaring waterfall. By all accounts it was a very wet experience, but they seemed to enjoy themselves.

Yesterday we headed off to the Reykajanes Peninsula, to visit one of the most popular tourist attractions in Iceland, the Blue Lagoon. Not seeing the great appeal of sitting in the effluent from a power station, I opted to watch from the side, whilst the three of them plunged themselves into the milky blue waters and cover their faces in mud. It was a hilarious sight, but I must say they embraced it with gusto.

Driving back to Reykjavik later that day, they all claimed that their skin felt softer, so maybe I should have joined in too. However, having ‘people-watched’ at the side of the lagoon, I was of the distinct opinion that there were bodies in there that I did not want to share my bath-time with!

We have spent the last day and a half in Reykjavik, the capital. It has happened to coincide with the Reykjavik Festival, so there has been plenty going on in the city, including parades, live music and a cycle race. Yesterday was a gorgeous evening, and we definitely saw the city at it’s best. The city’s landmark buildings, the Cathedral and the glass covered Concert Hall looked wonderful in the evening light. Today was cloudier, but dry nonetheless, and we had a lovely day just exploring the sights. One of the highlights for me was a visit to the Museum of Photography, which was hosting a splendid exhibition by a German photographer on photographs of the icy landscapes of Iceland and Greenland.

The highlight for Howard and Thomas was undoubtedly the ‘Saga Museum’, where they got to dress up as Vikings – such kids! That was closely followed by a visit to one of Reykjavik’s Microbreweries for a tasting of their ale. I made the error of trying one of their small batch gins. I hadn’t realised that it was ‘Navy strength’ – it was so strong I had to buy more tonic to make it vaguely drinkable.

So all in all, we have had a lovely time with the ‘children’. They leave early tomorrow morning, and then we have a very long drive eastwards, to get back on course for our ferry. It is hard to think that it is likely the next time we see them, they will be in Australia. But that is many months away, and before that, we have many other places to visit on our trip around Europe.