Fall travels - part 2b (Iceland)

This is the second part of my Iceland report. Find the first here.

So I was driving around in the rain, not enjoying the scenery too much, when I remembered an errand I needed to run. My sister had asked the previous day if I had tried hákarl yet. After I looked it up, I decided I'd had to hunt some down.

Hákarl is fermented shark meat. Fresh meat from a Greenland shark is poisonous, so to neutralize the toxins the meat is made to ferment and literally hang around for a few months.

As luck would have, there was a shark museum along my route along the peninsula, and this was my next stop. It wasn't a big place, just a bunch of shark carcasses, stuffed animals, fishing relics... and they happen to process Greenland shark meat the traditional way. To call the finished product edible is a bit of a stretch, but we were offered a bit of hákarl at the end of a video presentation on the process. The initial taste wasn't the worst thing I've ever had, but I could have done without the aftertaste that lingered for the rest of the day.

One dead shark.

About to take a bite. I still wonder why I had a second one.

The drying shed out back. Very fragrant.

My day spent touring the peninsula was cold and wet, but spending most of it in the car made for a comfy and relaxing day.

The next day I headed out to see Glymur waterfall. It was the highest waterfall in Iceland... until a higher one was discovered a few years ago. But at 650 feet, it's no slouch.

When I first got to the trailhead, it was pouring buckets, so I drove around looking for a "hot pot" to relax in -- a natural hot tub! I did find a small one eventually but it was overrun by two people so I passed. Back to the trailhead for the waterfall. By this time the rain had pretty well stopped. The trail was muddy and slick in places, but the steepest sections had cables or steps to make life easier.

A slippery log. It's removed for the off season, so I lucked out; wading would be cold!

The climb was strenuous but quite rewarding. And a little scary. No fences to keep you away from dropoffs, and the wind was brutal.

The falls. You can see some tourists just above centre, at the prime lookout spot.

At the lookout. See? Proof I was actually there.

Two feet away, it drops off 500 feet.

Spectacular view once the weather cleared up.

The view from the top was incredible, and the wind was worse than ever. The ideal plan is to cross the river at the top and climb down the other side of the gorge. However, I didn't see an obvious trail across the water, and crossing would have required getting wet, and none of the few people there were doing it either. So, back the way I came.

On my way down, I met an 80-year-old man and his wife at the slippery log. We helped each other across it, and I made a mental note to remain relatively fit if I'm to be anywhere near as active in my old age as this guy was.

Ooh... blue sky!

After my waterfall outing I headed back to the hostel early. You see, there is a brewery a few kilometres from the hostel but their hours are 1pm to 5pm. Not useful as I tend to be out sightseeing during those hours. So this time I made a point of returning on time. I enjoyed many brews, including perhaps the most interesting beer I've ever tried.

Whale unmentionables chopped up and smoked in sheep dung. I've had worse.

I sampled a whole slew of beers and bought two bottles. When it came time to pay, it turned out they weren't set up for plastic at the moment. This was the only time cash would have been helpful. But not to worry; the guy gave me an email address and said I could send money via PayPal when I get home. How awesome is that?

Armed with some local beer and the inside scoop (from my landlady) where to find a natural hot pool, I drove off for my final task of the day. I got to Krosslaug and found it deserted. Measuring just a few feet across, and with the water at a perfect 40 degrees, it was to me the quintessential Iceland experience.

That night I was about to turn in when I was informed that the northern lights were likely to show. I took a peek but wasn't impressed. Instead, I set my alarm for two hours later, at which time I was rewarded with a better light show.

Wherefore art thou, correct camera setting?

Final day. I had a plane to catch, but a few hours to kill first. I decided to knock off one last tourist trap: Geysir! This venerable phenomenon is the real thing, and what all geysers are named after. Sadly, Geysir the geyser hasn't erupted in quite some time, but nearby Strokkur is faithful and regular. So my morning would consist of driving two hours to seeing some geysers and then two hours to the airport.

At any rate, I left the hostel on time, and quite low on gas. I took a route that took me past a gas station. Except this particular gas station doesn't open until 10am. Who does that!? So I detoured to another one, which cost me some time. (Gas stations are quite rare in these remote parts.)

At the geysers, I saw a bunch of tourists holding up their phones and tablets in front a pool, as if waiting for it to blow. I snickered and walked on.

Waiting, waiting. The water level heaves slightly, like it's breathing.

Suddenly behind me, WHOOSH! Oops, missed it. So I pulled out my own electronics and stood there with my finger poised. A while later I was rewarded with an eruption of scalding sulfurous water that fortunately goes straight up (and straight back down).

Beginning to erupt.

And that was it. I jumped back in the car and enjoyed my final drive on winding roads, past farms and hamlets and mountains.

It seems that farming here means sheep. They're everywhere, including on the road. One time a farmer started flailing his arms on a road in front of me as I approached. Turns out his sheep felt like crossing the road, and he wanted to ensure I didn't end up with mutton on my grill.

There are quite a few horses too, but at least they're fenced in.

This one was showing off.

Other than that, things are safe. I didn't see any cops. No roadkill. No accidents (despite lots of tourists looking dangerously ill at ease maneuvering their big rental motorhomes).  Many roads are not paved, and many bridges are single lane only. Whoever gets there first has the right of way. Some big bus didn't get the memo, because I swear I got to a bridge first but he clearly wasn't slowing down for anything so I had to screech to a halt.

I think the sign means "Free for all - good luck"

And then there was this narrow bridge. I wasn't sure I'd get across it unscathed. I couldn't imagine driving anything big over it. Not being able to see what was approaching didn't help matters.

In the end I made it in one piece (despite way too much shooting of photos while driving). I didn't get to see Reykjavik at all, which didn't bother me. I saw only a small part of the country, so there's plenty more to explore if I ever make it back there.

This tiny country has a third of the population of Ottawa's one million. It's the size of South Korea, which has a population 50 million. There's lots of room to explore, lots of room for tourists (and believe me, there were lots even in September; I can't imagine the zoo it becomes in July/August).

No regrets, Iceland. May you be around for a while yet, in case I want to come back. Just don't go all volcanic and end up looking like this everywhere...

Cool but inhospitable.

Fall travels - part 2a (Iceland)

So I was in Holland in early September, and on my way home I stopped in to see Iceland a minute. I've long wanted to go, but it's at the bottom of Carrie's list of destinations, so I had to go alone. I tried to convince a few friends to drop everything and come on over, but they all disappointed me bitterly. So I was on my own!

(The whole Europe trip was a last-minute thing, and I had no time to plan anything. It was on this trip that I learned again how invaluable my dear wife really is, what with all the itineraries that magically formulate when we travel together.)

So yeah, I flew from Amsterdam to Iceland with not much of a plan, just a car rental and a guest house lined up. At the airport I bought a sim card for my phone so I'd be connected for the four-day trip. Best investment ever! I found my rental car (which cost an arm and a leg) and drove the couple hours to the guest house (which cost me the other arm and leg).

Yes, getting to Iceland can be crazy cheap, but once you're there, yikes! The tiny car cost me $125/day, plus $2.25/l for gas. They insure you to the hilt, and I also opted for ash/dust insurance, in case the wind picks up and sandblasts your car with whatever's lying around.

And the guest house (basically a hostel) was also $125/day, and that was one of the cheaper options (albeit last-minute). I ate dinner there the first night, the sole guest of the place. The bill of $38 for home-cooked fare of fish and potatoes wiped out any meal budget I might have had; the next day I went out and bought some bread and jam, which would be my sustenance for the next few days.

A word on the beautiful Icelandic language: letters and their usage are a little different than they may appear (to anglophones).  If you think you pronounced something right, you probably didn't. My hostel, and the river after which it is named, is Hvítá; who would have thought it would be pronounced kweetao? Also, the Icelandic alphabet has a few extra letters, in particular ð (soft th sound) and þ (hard th sound). These two sounds alone make the language sound quite wonderful, reminding me of Dutch but without the harshness. I found myself reading off every road sign I came across as I drove, totally mastering (or maybe butchering) the tongue and having no clue what I was saying.

After my first good night's sleep in Iceland, I hit the road. What's this? FIRE!!

Or maybe not. STEAM!! As you drive around, it's very common to see steaming rising from a random field. Iceland is blessed with much geothermal activity, and a quarter of its electricity comes from geothermal power plants. Seven in eight buildings are heated with geothermal energy. So you see lots of distribution infrastructure, like pipes that move hot water from ground sources to nearby towns.

Deildartunguhver is a hot spring very near to my hostel, where water comes out of the ground near boiling (97 degrees) and is piped to towns up to 60km away or more.

The sulfur smell is quite strong here, and in fact is even noticed when taking a shower in Iceland since the water probably comes from hot springs like this with high sulfur content.

I then proceeded to the first of many nice waterfalls along a nice walking trail, encountering a self-serve golf course on the way: just pay with your credit card at the machine and then hit the links!

(Credit cards. Very handy in this country. In fact, no one really uses cash. I didn't see any cash but actually wanted to take some home as a souvenir, so before I left the country I ended up asking my landlady if she had some spare cash lying around that I could buy. She scrounged some up and added it to my bill.)

Next stop: some craters. There are many craters here; some are easy to see up close, while others take effort. They often rise out of an otherwise flat landscape, just asking to be explored. So I obliged. The Grábrók craters are just off the road and one of them comes equipped with stairs and a walkway around the rim. A little touristy, but an easy target.

Hraunfossar (lava falls) was a spectacular spot which photos do no justice at all. All this touristy stuff plus geocaching was really eating up my day.

I booted around to see some more and hit the end of the road at one point. Or at least the end of a good road. There exists in Iceland a set of roads called the F-roads. These access the rugged highlands of the country and are often open only during a few summer months. Two-wheel-drives are not permitted. And river crossings are common, which will void any rental car insurance. Of course, lots of tour companies will take you into these areas... for a fee.

Warning! Cool vehicles only beyond this point.

My rental... and some enviable alternatives.

The next day I headed out once again, this time to see the Snaefellsnes peninsula. It was windy and rainy, but sitting around seemed wasteful, so I made the most of it. On the way, the Eldborg crater was beckoning to me. I think it took an hour to reach on foot. Most estimated hiking times in tourism or guide books seemed about twice what they should be for me, so the math was easy. I was very thankful for having the foresight to pack two jackets, merino wool layers, gloves and a hat; I made use of all of these on this rather cold day.

Eldborg looms.

I kept driving, wishing the rain might stop, but no luck. Ytri Tunga beach is famous for its seal colony so I stopped there for a quick look and lunch (jam sandwich!). I was rewarded with some seals cavorting in the shallows, and even got some terrible shots to share with the world.

I went on to Arnarstapi, which has a statue and some interesting rock formations.

Meet the statue of Bárður, a character from an Icelandic saga.

Bárður is much bigger than he looks.

Gatklettur arch reminded me of Hopewell (flowerpot) Rocks in New Brunswick.

At the end of the peninsula sits Snaefellsjökull National Park, a barren yet green expanse that probably would have looked a little nicer in sunlight. It's barren in that it's pretty much lava fields, but it's green due to the moss growth on the very old lava. The park includes seashore, lots of lava fields, and the Snæfellsjökull mountain and glacier.

Like the lawn of lava lichen?

 

The town of Hellissandur had some whale bones on display. "Dead whale" the signs says (in case the creature's state wasn't evident).

The vibrant paint colours of homes remind me of St. John's, NL.

Most homes seemed well kept, and most farms had a nice splash of red, perhaps to offset the dreary lack of colour in the winter. Other points of architectural interest appeared as well.

So picturesque.

The modern-looking Ólafsvíkurkirkja.

There's even a road sign to signify abandoned farms.

Imagine your own cliff as a backdrop... complete with waterfall.

Okay, this blog post is getting ornery... too many photos perhaps? To be continued...

Fall travels - part 1 (Netherlands)

We've been home for a week following a nice excursion out west, and it feels great to be back. But the whole excursion thing began a little earlier for me...

It all started with the sad occasion of my last remaining grandparent passing away in the Netherlands. My opa died at the start of September, marking the end of an era and of a generation (my oma passed away just last year). I hadn't been to any of my grandparents' funerals, so I decided to make the trek for this particular goodbye. I hadn't known these (my maternal) grandparents particularly well, but they'd been to Canada a number of times to visit, and Carrie and I saw them in the Netherlands in 2007.

An early photo of me with Opa

At any rate, I made hurried plans to get there, and I learned that my parents and my li'l sister Marian would be going as well. I booked a cheaper-than-most flight with a little Icelandic airline (Wow Air) and extended one layover in Reykjavik just a little.

My airline had good prices, but it was a no-frills kind of deal. As in, do you want leg room? [Insert old-fashioned cash register sound here] CHING! A standard carry-on size bag to, uh, carry on? CHING! How about a snack? CHING! Yikes. K, maybe just a water? CHING CHING CHING!!! Yup, no frills. I did splurge on some leg room, but forewent the rest; my allowable carry-on was tiny, ridiculously small for the trip I was taking... but yay, no extra fee.

Anyway, off I went! My airline flew out of Montreal, so I took a Greyhound bus from Ottawa to Montreal airport. Took off for an overnight to Amsterdam via Reykjavik. Once in Amsterdam I considered getting a sim card for my phone but got lazy and used wi-fi where I could. But first things first!

Croquettes for breakfast

After my culturally appropriate introductory meal, I went about learning how to get to the city of Assen, the place of my birth. Found a train ticket machine, mastered it, inserted credit card... which the machine spat out after a few moments' thought. "Temporarily rejected." Uh-oh. Yanked out another dustier one. (I don't do cash, so I come prepared with an arsenal of plastic.)

The second card worked; turned out the first card (joint with Carrie) had hit its max due to her work trip to Geneva and then some fraudulent use.

So, armed with a ticket, I hopped onto the correct train and settled in for a two-hour ride. Then... something jogged my memory; I went over to the door and read a sign that confirmed my suspicions: I was supposed to validate/activate my ticket at the station. If a ticket master comes by and my ticket isn't active, the fine is decidedly unpleasant. So I peered out of the train at a couple of stations to see where/how to do this validating. Once I decided I knew what to do, I jumped out of the train at the next stop, ran to the validating station, swiped my ticket... and turned back to the train in time to see it glide gracefully away.

Sigh. At least I still had my tiny bag of possessions with me.

Well, the mission was half successful. I got to wait a half hour for the next train, which took me uneventfully to Assen. There, I pulled out my trusty printed-out minimally-labelled map of the city and started walking. I met a few new people, got to practice my Dutch, and saw much more of Assen than I had intended to that day. That's what happens when your map stinks and your starting point isn't where you think it is on the map. Anyway, a planned half hour walk turned into a scenic hour, and I finally arrived at the home of my aunt (mom's sister) and uncle, whose house used to be owned by my paternal grandparents. Small world, this country.

Sad day but beautiful weather. Service was partly in English, for our benefit.

I stayed only four full days and wasn't there to see the country, but I did take the time to head to Amsterdam one day with Marian. Two hours each way by train for a few hours in the city... it was a hectic day.

Waiting for the train in Assen

The previous time Marian and I were there (September of '81)

On arriving in Amsterdam, we booked a boat tour and then went to a nearby café for some yummy Dutch food. Time always gets away from you when you're having fun, or in Marian's case, when you're laughing so hard you cry...

As always, you don't remember what was so funny. Probably nothing.

Appeltaart... yum!

We paid our bill and asked where the tour might start; the lady pointed us to some boat tour area nearby. Headed over there and asked around, nope, it's back that way. Really, right beside the café we just left? Ran back over there, and caught our boat just in time. We were maybe a dozen tourists on the boat, which was small enough to negotiate a lot of canals the bigger tour boats couldn't get into.

We saw the narrowest house in Amsterdam, Rembrandt's house, plenty of non-level and unstable-looking houses holding each other up, and lots of other sights. Oh, and houseboats. Big ones, little ones, nice ones, dilapidated ones, stuck ones (low bridges built around them), not-so-stuck ones (wheelhouse can be disassembled so the boat can fit under said low bridges)... and much more.

Narrow, and not quite level

Watch your step!

Duck! (Where?)

Waterfront property! Uh, needs work.

After the boat, we walked aimlessly to enjoy the experience of small bustling European streets. A turn here, a twist there, a.. wait WHAT?! I'm strolling along, probably looking at my phone, and Marian notices the, um, wares being displayed in the windows. Okay, so we hustle down the shady street a little faster. I look down a dark alley as we walk past its entrance, and--they must coordinate this--five scantily-clad ladies on each side of the alley lean out from their doorways and eye us. The absurdity of it made me almost want to get a picture, but we imagined angry, uh, employers chasing us down if we did. So we didn't hang around. Alright, lemme consult my bucket list... <rustle, rustle> ... ah, here it is! Visit red light district by accident: check!

Okay, safe to stop for a picture, Marian. It's fine, no need to look up.

We wandered on and came to Anne Frank's house, which Marian had really wanted to see. Unfortunately, if you don't reserve a ticket months beforehand, you get to stand at the end of a long line toward the end of the day and watch a few people get in. We didn't have that kind of time, so we carried on.

After seeing not nearly enough of the city, we headed back to the train station to figure out our return trip. As we stood there waiting, we snickered at someone running like mad to catch a train. "Haha, poor schmuck's missing his train!" Then I paused; let's just make sure we're not missing ours. Checked my phone. OH CRAP! Turns out platforms 10A and 10B are not the same thing. And so we flew like the wind, certain that someone, somewhere, was snickering at these two schmucks trying desperately to make their train. Marian's flipflops clattering along (who knew you could run in those?), her sunglasses flying off behind us to join our dignity. But we made the train, and that's really all that matters.

Off to Meppel! We had planned to stop at an uncle and aunt's place for dinner there. They treated us to Chinese take-out, and we enjoyed a splendid evening. And instead of letting us take the train back to Assen, our dear uncle drove us all the way back to Assen at around midnight. Nicest uncle from Meppel ever!

Oom Roelof's e-bike. No wonder biking seems so easy in Holland!

Oh, and this day was Lily's first day of school ever. How dare I miss this?

Looked sad but wasn't, apparently

The next day it was time to explore Assen, where Dad grew up. We saw his old stomping grounds, former place of employment, even the church where he was baptized. This church had been a Jewish synagogue before World War II; of Assen's over 500 Jews, only two dozen survived the war. The synagogue was no longer feasible for such a small group, and it was sold to the Reformed church. While we were nearby, the caretaker happened by, so we got a look inside as well.

A star of David still adorns a couple of church windows to commemorate the Jews.

We also checked out my dad's childhood home, which was overlooked by the local jail. During the war, Dad's uncle was active in the resistance, and the Germans picked up the man's wife to make her tell them her husband's whereabouts. Well, she didn't know, or at least didn't talk; none of the family knew where she was either, but she had the privilege of looking out her cell window and seeing my grandparents' house and the goings-on of everyday life. After three months, the Germans gave up and released her; my oma was expecting at the time and was excited to tell her... except she already knew, having deduced this from her bird's-eye view across the street! [Dad: let me know if I got my facts wrong.]

Marian had a fixation with old stuff. She complained that the oldest thing she knows is her dad. Every old building she touched was a new record. "Ahh, 100 years old?!?"... "Wow, 200 years old?!?"... "Ooh, 400 years old?!?"

But... this is older than my pa!

We finally encountered an old wall, remains of a monastery dating back to the year 1260 or so. Hope that's old enough for you, Marian!

We encountered the town hall, which made me think to dig into my archives. Tada, same young couple, same spot!

Now

Before colour was invented (45 years or so ago)

An obligatory photo shoot with Bartje. He hasn't aged a bit; can't say that for some of us.

2016

2007

Back in 2007, Carrie and I were planning on our final day in Assen to have lunch with an uncle and aunt, before taking the train to Schiphol or something. Well, it was a Sunday and some friends took us to their church, and time got away from us. By the time we extricated ourselves from a very long service and made it to the uncle and aunt's house, we didn't have time to eat. My dear aunt had prepared a nice hot lunch for us and we had only time to smell it, grab our luggage and run to the train station. We just barely caught our train.

I've felt supremely bad about this for nine years, so it was time to get over it. I went into a flower shop with Marian and found a lovely bouquet to buy for my aunt. Threw down my credit card, and... "we don't take plastic." Huh? Well, I don't carry cash, so that's not cool. Fortunately my little sister carries mad stacks, so she covered it. Anyway, we managed to find my aunt and uncle's place, and I finally got to apologize properly, and I can once again sleep at night. The end.

Now where were we? Right, in Assen. I had a great time catching up with aunts and uncles I rarely see, and with cousins I barely know. Marian took lots of pictures of family, so I didn't bother. My mother has one brother in Alberta and four sisters in the Netherlands. Of about 100 descendants (and spouses) of my late grandparents, more live in Canada than in Holland, but our small visiting Canadian contingent meant about half the clan was there. It was wonderful to connect with so much family we never otherwise see. And since I'm not on bookface or whatever that thing is called, it may be another 10 years before I connect with any of them again.