Iceland Day 17 – Westman Islands

Thursday September 11, East of Vík to Westman Islands (Vestmannayær)

In keeping with the spirit of getting off the ring road as much as possible, today was our long-planned foray to the Westman Islands, an archipelago of small islands and rocks just off the south coast of Iceland, accessible by boat or small plane. We booked a ferry ride for us and our car so that we could drive about the island to explore.

How Cute is This Puffin at Stórhöfði?

The Westman Islands (the principal island is Heimaey, "home island") were long on my must-see list for their rugged beauty and easily accessible puffin colony. Seeing puffins would be a bonus on this trip, but not seeing them would not be a deal breaker. With the timing of our trip in the second week of September, seeing puffins would always be a crapshoot. In September, they leave land to spend the winter at sea.

Another reason to visit was because Vestmannaeyjabær, the only town in the islands, is home to one of Iceland's great restaurants, Slippurinn, at which I wanted to dine. When I heard that renowned Icelandic chef Gísli Matt was closing this longtime restaurant on September 13, I was a bit bummed that another great restaurant was closing. But after closing my own, I understand the need to rest, recharge, and take a different tack. Fortunately, we would be in town on September 11 to try one of his final tasting menus at this restaurant.

Situated off the southern coast, the Westman Islands seem inaptly named. They are called "West" because they were named after the Irish, or "Westmen," who were enslaved by the Norse settlers and who subsequently fled to the islands. Despite the islands' location off Iceland's south coast, the name stuck because Ireland is west from the Norse point of view.

The islands' location off the coast requiring a ferry ride to reach them brings the weather into play. The best strategy for visiting is to book ferry tickets a day in advance according to the weather forecast. That is all well and good for day visitors, but our staying overnight, plus booking reservations at Slippurinn, required committing to a date regardless of the weather, a bit of a gamble.

Weather did factor in to our visit. At 0230, a violent series of wind gusts rammed the house like a bull bison in full charge at a rival, making me wonder how rough our ferry ride would be. I also thought about all the tents we saw pitched at the campgrounds yesterday and if they survived the gusts recorded at 30 m/s, 67 mph. The wind also prompted me to look again at the weather forecast in the middle of the night. The forecast was concerning and not hopeful for our outdoor activities in and around Vestmannaeyjabær.

Leaving our apartment on the farm at 0800 headed for the ferry terminal at Landeyjahöfn in a raging downpour, my concern was misplaced. I should not have worried about outdoor activities at our destination, but getting there at all. We arrived at the ferry terminal to see empty car lanes and no ferry.

When we went inside to ask about the situation, we found the 1000 ferry had been cancelled for rough weather. They had emailed us notice of the cancellation, but unfortunately after we were already on the road for the 95-minute drive to the ferry terminal. If you visit Iceland and everything goes according to plan, have you really visited Iceland?

Ferry Terminal: No Cars in Line and No Ferry

Our Home for the Next 3.5 Hours

Black Sand, Pouring Rain at Landeyjahöfn

At Long Last, We Have a Ferry

This turn of events was not on my bingo card for today. Nor was being told on arrival for the 1000 ferry that the next ferry at noon was full, but we could join the waitlist. The ticket agent promised definite space on the 1400 ferry. With the wind blowing squalls of rain across the parking lot and showing no promise of change, I wondered if more cancellations were to come.

Had the notice of the delay reached us earlier, we could have spent a leisurely morning at the apartment rather than an uncomfortable morning in the ferry waiting room. We bought cups of shitty coffee from a machine, spread our wet coats out to dry, plugged our electronic devices into the wall outlets, and sat back to wait.

1000 came, then 1100, then I received an email that the 1100 ferry left the islands for the mainland but the return trip to the islands would be delayed from 1200 to 1300, probably because the ride would be directly into the wind. Attached to the email were new boarding passes for the 1300 ferry. That, at least, was progress and I was hopeful.

Encouraged, at 1115, I went outside to move the car into the boarding lanes. I found that the rain had backed off, and more importantly, that the 1100 ferry had indeed arrived and was putting the car ramp down, a great sign that we would sail at 1300. The ferry is the very same that we took from Stykkishólmur to Brjánslækur, a replacement for the usual ferry that is currently in dry dock.

I drove the car onto the ferry about 1245 and we did pull away right on schedule at 1300. When I came upstairs from the car deck, I found Ann in the bow end of the seating area, seated with two American guys. As we pulled away, the water was relatively calm until we cleared the breakwater and then the boat began to bounce and bounce hard as it plowed into large wave after large wave. One of the guys we were seated with started looking a little green and he was doing his best to not to get sick.

Waves Bouncing off the Bow of the Ferry

As we neared the island of Heimaey, the largest island in the archipelago, about 7 kilometers off the coast and home to about 4500 people, I could see tall cliffs through the fog and mist. I was certain these cliffs were stunning when the sun was shining. Once at the dock in downtown, we set off for the far eastern point of the island to the Urðaviti Lighthouse. The lighthouse was situated in a gorgeous location that looked promising for photography, but as soon as we parked and exited the car, a vicious squall slammed us.

Quickly, we jumped back in the car to move along, the weather not seeming like it would cooperate. From the stormy Urðaviti lighthouse, we drove past the Eldfell Volcano Trail Head, where we hoped to climb the volcano to take in the island below us. We kept going because of the lashing squalls. Eldfell (“fire mountain”) is famous for having erupted in 1973, causing evacuation of the entire island. It is even more famous for the use of massive pumps spraying cold sea water on lava to stop its encroachment on the harbor below.

Driving on to the far southern point of the island, we wanted to climb up Stórhöfði, a large cape, to the lighthouse and to look for puffins just below the lighthouse. We caught a weather break just as we managed to squeeze our car into the tiny parking area at the trail to the Puffin Lookout. Furiously dynamic, the weather changed every 15 minutes and luck had us arrive to look for puffins in a relatively calm period between lashing squalls.

I did not think that puffins would still be in residence at this late date based on looking at the webcam on the colony that was being broadcast at the ferry terminal where we spent the entire morning. I never did see a single bird on the camera. But within a minute of gazing at the steep, tall, and grass-covered cliffside to my left, I saw a tiny white spot. Putting the big camera on it and shooting, I saw a tiny puffin in the viewfinder after enlarging the image.

Now that I knew what to look for, I saw a dozen or more of these birds come out of their burrows in the distance and then dive off the cliff into the air to fly out to the water. In a huge surprise, one stepped out of its burrow just below me not 4 meters away. I got many frames of this bird and I took a bunch on random cellphones that people kept passing to me.

In between birds, a couple of locals were talking about the colony. One of them was a woman who had just released a puffling that she rescued the evening before. Young puffins, called pufflings, become disoriented by the lights in town and land in the streets necessitating their rescue and return to their home at the cliffs.

Back at the car, I struggled with the door against the wind that had once again starting screaming after the wonderful respite while watching the puffins. The car struggled up the steep grade to the parking area at the top of Stórhöfði, home to the Great Cape Lighthouse. There we struggled getting out of the car against the brutal wind of another squall blowing through. Various non-authoritative sources claim this is the windiest place in Europe. Windy, undoubtedly; windiest, who knows?

Stórhöfði Lighthouse

The views from the barren hilltop on which the lighthouse sits are amazing even with all the clouds blowing through. On a sunny day, the views must be nearly indescribable. We circumnavigated the cape, mostly around the edge of the cliffs, staying well back in the face of wicked gusts that were pushing us around like we weighed nothing.

Annie Looks at Suðurey, South Island, from Stórhöfði

Beautiful, Even in the Mist

Glad to be back in the car and out of the wind, we descended back towards town to check in to our house downtown. We noted on the climb up the cape a place called Pirate Cove to check out on the way back. Pirate Cove or Ræningjatangi is a where Algerian pirates landed during a raid in 1627, capturing many islanders as slaves. I loved the black and white chiaroscuro aspect of the white wind-frothed waves against the black rocks, the black sand, and the black lava formations. I banged out these three photos in under 30 seconds because the rain was blowing sideways now in sheets.

Ræningjatangi, Pirate Cove

Thin Lava Flow as Yet Unbroken

We found our house in downtown without any issue. It was not the prettiest place we have stayed and was awkwardly laid out with living room, kitchen, and bathroom on the street level and the two bedrooms in the basement, down an incredibly tight and steep spiral staircase. Navigating those stairs to and from the bathroom in the middle of the night would be particularly torturous. On the plus side, the house was within walking distance of all downtown and had plenty of free street parking.

After unpacking and cleaning up for dinner, we decided to walk to The Brothers Brewery a block away. Ann got to yakking with a couple of women from California and as they were trading Iceland experiences, Ann extoled the virtues of the gorgeous Westfjords. As I went to the bar to get us refills, Jón Þór, cod captain out of Ísafjörður in the Westfjords, approached me and expressed his happiness that we really loved his home. We had a fun chat with him, a rare experience in having an actual conversation with an Icelander. As we were leaving, he mentioned he had a restaurant to recommend to us. When I asked which, he recommended we go to Slippurinn. I assured him that we had booked reservations at least a month earlier. We would see Jón Þór and his girlfriend at the restaurant later on.

Some of the Best Beer in Iceland

Kind of Resembles an Oregon Brewery

Hazy Girl Got a Hazy

From The Brothers Brewing, it must be all of four blocks to Slippurinn, the landmark restaurant whose name means "boat slip" in Icelandic. The former shipyard machine workshop was loving rehabbed into relaxed second floor restaurant that has a decided industrial vibe. Over more than a decade, this family-run establishment gained an international reputation for creative, seasonal, and locally foraged meals on the strength of son Gísli Matt's cooking.

Unpretentious Slippurinn

Industrial Stair Tread Pattern

Besides great cooking, Slippurinn is also known for incredible cocktails. Each cocktail on the list is based on a specific herb such as dandelion, sorrel, birch, or arctic thyme. Each is documented in an innovative booklet with a page describing the cocktail and the facing page showing an illustration of the herb. I am a sucker for lovage, so ordering the skessujurt cocktail was a no-brainer. Add ordered the rabbabari/rhubarb drink. The lovage cocktail was magical.

Photos from the Cocktail Menu

Rhubarb, back, Lovage, front

Although Slippurinn offers an à la carte menu, it was a foregone conclusion that Ann and I would order the tasting menu along with accompanying wine pairings. That is how we roll. I rarely want to order my own meal. I would much rather have the restaurant serve me what they think they do best or the dishes that they think define their style. I tried to make some notes on these dishes that night but as I write this, we dined there going on more than three weeks ago and some things have faded from memory.

Cod Skin with Angelica

Sea Lettuce Cracker with Sea Truffles and Beach Herbs

Surprise "Wine" Pairing: Grugg & Makk Eldfell Wild Ale Made with Microbes Collected on the Slopes of the Volcano

A Really Unusual and Tasty Brew

Best Dish of the Night: Uni with
Spiced Rhubarb Granita, Pickled Currants, Slightly Horseradish Whipped Cream

Arctic Thyme-Cured Halibut with a Killer Herbal Broth

Signature Cod Wing, Hot Sauce, Pine, and Smoked Buttermilk Probably Least Interesting Dish of the Night

Monkfish Cheeks, Cauliflower Purée, Charred Cauliflower, Lamb Jus The Monkfish Texture was Extraordinarily Meat-Like

Cured Lamb on a Galette of Spent Brewing Grains

Grilled Lamb Prime with Celery Root, Lamb Jus, and Hazelnuts
Celery Root Was the Star, Crispy Outside, Tender Inside

I am still not certain what a lamb prime is; it is not a cut that I know from American or French butchery. I can tell that it comes from the shoulder/front forequarter of the lamb, but where specifically I do not know because although I have butchered many lambs, I cut it differently. That said, although Icelandic lamb is terrific, the star of this dish was the celery root. It was tender inside and crispy outside, almost as if it had been roasted or braised, then cooled and deep-fried. However it was made, it is addictive and I want more.

Lemon Sole with Beurre Blanc

Mystery Dessert: Chocolate, Rhubarb Granita, and a Salted Meringue

Skyr and Sorrel Granita, Oats, White Chocolate, Whey Caramel

All things must end and Slippurrin is now closed after a long run. Ann and I were fortunate to eat there just at the end, although through luck rather than planning. For my part, the meal taken as a whole was one of the best I have ever had. My lovage cocktail, I can state without reservation, was the best cocktail I have ever had, a "sleeper" they called it because diners are sometimes put off by lovage and Iceland's version of caraway-flavored aquavit called Brennivín. Those flavors talk to my chef palate.

But the food and drink are not the most impressive thing. I was impressed with how everyone on the small staff pitched in with whatever task needed to be done, true team service. Servers made drinks; bartenders ran plates; everyone bussed tables; the talented sommelier did nearly everything in the front of the house; and, the line cooks having the kitchen on lock, Chef Gísli Matt served several of the courses himself, lingering to explain them.

After finding out that our sommelier/server is next going to run the wine program at Skál in Reykjavík where Gísli Matt is one of the partners, we mentioned that we had been unable to secure a reservation. She booked a table for us at Skál on Sunday without any apparent issue. Her knowledge will be indispensable there to help upgrade what we found to be a deficient wine program.

We congratulated everyone on the way out on a successful long run and wished them well in wherever their roads head next. Ours headed about three blocks away to a cramped bed down an impossible spiral staircase. We counted our blessings as we walked that it was no longer raining.