Iceland Day 9 – Siglufjörður

Wednesday September 3, Hvammstangi to Siglufjörður

Wednesday morning in Hvammstangi dawned about like Tuesday night, overcast and spitting rain, but a trifle less windy. The crazy Icelandic wind roared through the night, often brutally so, crashing against the windows of our apartment, and was still howling at 0530. Thankfully, the gusts eased off somewhat by 0700. Windy, gray, and blah, it looked to be another day of charming Icelandic weather: clouds and rain, I came to call "Icelandic sunshine."

Not hanging around town for the local coffee shop to open at 1100, before 0900 we turned right, north, out of the driveway and started our explore of the Vatnsnes, the first and smallest of the peninsulas in North Iceland. The peninsula order heading east is Vatnsnes, Skagi, and Tröllaskagi where we would stay the night in its principal town of Siglufjörður. After exploring the Vatnsnes, it was an open question if we would also explore the Skagi or just keep heading east to the Tröllaskagi for the night.

Immediately out of town, the pavement ceased on route 711, the road to Illugastaðir, a private farm that is well-known for its seal watching. Twenty-five kilometers of dirt road later, we turned into the private drive at Illugastaðir Farm and drove down to the parking lot, camping area, and restrooms. After paying for parking in the comfort of the car using the Parka app, we bundled in many layers with beanies and gloves against the cold, cold wind screaming off the Húnaflói (”Polar Bear Cub Bay”) a large bay open to the North Atlantic.

Hardy Icelandic Horses: Illugastaðir is a Working Farm

The site is well-maintained with walking paths down to a seal blind right on the bay. The cold conditions had Ann going back to the warmth of the car after not too long a visit, while I continued down to the water in hopes of catching a glimpse of an elusive Gray Seal. Alas, today was not the day and I saw only a single Harbor Seal which I believe was posing for me. This may be the premier seal haul-out in Iceland, but it did not pan out for us today.

The Lone Harbor Seal at Illugastaðir

Orange Lichen

Angelica Seed Heads Framed Against the Stormy Sea
Found Everywhere in Iceland, Ætihvönn, Angelica archangelica 

Chilly in the brisk wind and not wanting to leave Ann abandoned in the car for long, I hurried back. After dropping a couple layers in the back seat, I fired the car up to continue our trip north and around the tip of the Vatnsnes where the road turns south. On the way out of the driveway, the car hesitated and stuttered as it had on several prior occasions, lugging hard and not wanting to get up to speed. Not a half a kilometer down the main dirt road, a dire-sounding audible alarm shrieked while the dashboard displayed a bright red STOP with the message "Warning: Engine Failure Risk."

This Was NOT on My Iceland Bingo Card

So, here we were in an extremely remote part of Northern Iceland, a long way from help, with no ability to phone for assistance, at a dead stop in the middle of a lane-and-a-half wide dirt track, pondering an alarm that portended catastrophic engine failure. Silly me: With all the planning that I did for this trip, I did not have a contingency plan for this situation. Who would?

Taking stock of the situation and knowing that the engine was still running and not sounding like it was going to throw a rod, knowing that there were kilometers of nothingness north ahead of us, and remembering that there were a couple of campers and a construction crew working on a building back at Illugastaðir, we returned to the Illugastaðir parking lot to be in a known location near people from whom we could possibly bum a phone from to make a call.

I used the mobile Wi-Fi to send the photo above to the rental car agency requesting their advice, and then sat back to await their response. My prior email to them had been answered, but it took a couple of hours though that time, it was the middle of the night and not the middle of a business day as it was currently. Within five minutes, I received the response:

"You can keep driving with a higher RPM average (approx 3.000) so the particle filter will be cleaned up. Instead of driving in sixth gear when going 90, try to go with fifth or fourth gear. After several kilometres, the sign should clear."

And now I understood the cause of the hesitations that we had been having: a fuel system issue. Diesel engines typically have multiple fuel filters as well as fuel injectors that can get clogged. I found it ironic that the work-around to the message about the engine dying was to rev the hell out of it. With the blessing of the rental car agency, we set off north again at high RPM. I took it to 3000 RPM in fourth gear and downshifted into third and that seemed to shake things loose again.

For the duration of our trip, this problem would recur at any time the car was stopped for more than a half an hour, at least a couple times a day. A few days later, the check engine light would come on permanently with a message "Check Injection." I suppose I could have stopped and bought a bottle of fuel injector cleaner, but as long as the car was getting us where we needed to be without any loss of performance, I would leave the problem for the mechanics back in Reykjavík.

During the rest of the trip, the engine ran with no problems once it was warm and the fuel flowing. Despite the myriad warnings, I found the Dacia Duster a reasonable vehicle for Iceland with a suspension capable of taking on the dirt roads plus sufficient 4WD and clearance to take on small creeks and rutted roads. I found it reasonably comfortable and easy to drive. It made plenty of torque in lower gears, had enough horsepower for passing, and the 6-speed manual transmission shifted easily. First gear was so low that I often started it in second gear, reserving first for picking my way up exceedingly steep rutted tracks.

Car scare behind us, we drove on, stopping as we felt the urge. At one point, we came across this abandoned barn that screamed out to be photographed against the backdrop of the bay and the low clouds.

Abandoned Barn, Vatnsnes

Against the Cold Húnafjörður

From the interlude at the abandoned barn, we drove on to our next destination around the tip of the peninsula and headed back south, the Hvítserkur Sea Stack, aka Dinosaur Rock. Examining the rock from close range, I never did understand the rationale for the dinosaur moniker. The Icelandic name which translates to white shirt makes perfect sense; the rock is coated in a layer of white bird poop. I enjoyed the short leg stretch of a walk from the car park, which was down a steep and rutted entrance road. Climbing back out made me thankful for four-wheel drive and a super low first gear.

Hvítserkur Sea Stack

Now after more than a week of driving in Iceland, we had become much more familiar with the roadways and signage. In a country full of rolling hills over which approaching vehicles cannot be seen, drivers must be vigilant when approaching these blind hillcrests. We noted that different areas use different means to warn approaching drivers of these blind spots.

One is a yellow warning sign stating Blindhæð or “blind height.” Another on paved roads (a rarity in rural Iceland) has the center no-passing stripe split to create an artificial median between the two lanes. My favorite is a road sign at the apex of the hill with a keep right arrow on it, in the photo below. I admit that I was confused at first why a road sign would be planted in the middle of a dirt road. I chuckled at the first several of them that we passed in Vatnsnes until I finally comprehended their purpose in separating the often one-lane dirt roads into two lanes at blind hills.

Why the Sign in the Middle of the Road?

In planning our trip, I made lists of potential places to visit along our routes that we could visit or skip as our moods, schedule, and weather dictated. Some sights whose value I could not discern over the internet, I noted as potentially skippable. One such called Borgarvirki I found mentioned in several tourist accounts, but I could not understand why we should stop at something called a "geographic feature" or a "volcanic plug." After the sea stack, though, we put Borgarvirki into the GPS and made our way for it over increasingly rougher roads.

As we approached what looked like a rocky tor dominating the nearby countryside, we started climbing and winding closer to what looked like it could have been an ancient lookout, fortress, or beacon hill. Despite the wind and rain, I felt the need to go explore. As I climbed, I am certain that the hill has been used for centuries, if for no other reason than the views of the surrounding country and Lake Vesturhopsvatn from the top are wonderful. I enjoyed the brief stop.

Climbing up to Borgarvirki

View of Vesturhopsvatn from Top of Borgarvirki

After visiting Borgarvirki, our dirt road travels ended after a rough stretch of track out to the ring road. We backtracked just a couple of minutes back west on the ring road to take the detour to Kolugljúfur, a canyon containing a group of delightful waterfalls known collectively as the Kolufossar waterfalls. From the perspectives of visual interest and ability to see these falls intimately in such a confined area, these falls are high on my list of those to visit in Iceland.

Kolugljúfur Canyon, One of the Stunning Kolufossar Waterfalls

Intrepid Annie

Love the Blue Water in This Pool

The next stop as we drove east was a locale that I doubt many tourists visit, an island in the middle of the Blanda River, a nature reserve that has been proposed as a future national park. To reach Hrútey ("Ram Island") in Blönduós, we had to endure a short stretch of the ring road. Just beyond downtown Blönduós, we turned right into the car park. A short descent towards the river leads to two pedestrian bridges across the river to the island. The island, whose sides are sheer cliffs in many locations, stands proud of the Blanda by 20 to 30 meters. On its way to the sea/Húnafjörður, the churning and frothing mass of glacial meltwater races violently around the basalt island.

The main trail that follows the circumference of the island is not long, likely less than a kilometer. A few other trails seem to crisscross the island in places, often running through groves of trees. Many trees on this island are not native to Iceland, having been planted at some point in the past. Some even have markers indicating the source of the trees, such as Sitka Spruce from Alaska. Because it had stopped raining temporarily, our walk proved delightful.

Twin Pedestrian Bridges to Hrútey

1.5km from the Sea, the Blanda is Screaming

Redwing Enjoying a Puddle Bath

Exploring the Cliff Tops

Love the Red Birch Bark

At Water Level, This Torrent is Loud and Scary

Creek Falling into the Blanda

A Rare Late Season Angelica Bloom

One of Many Large Boletes

Angelica and Downy Birch, Birki, Betula pubescens

More Boletes

A Spectacularly Colored Yarrow, Vallhumall, Achillea millefolium 

Saying Goodbye to Lovely Hrútey

After eating our lunch sandwiches while looking out over the furious torrent of the Blanda, we had a decision to make. Should we make the 90-minute detour up the Skagi to visit Kálfshamarsvík, a cove surrounded by jointed basalt columns that some argue are the most beautiful in Iceland? We decided that it was not worth the hour-and-a-half investment of time versus arriving earlier in Siglufjörður and having a beer while warming up after having spent the bulk of the day in the rain. Besides, I reminded myself, we will almost certainly have the opportunity to see more spectacular columns in a few days.

In the now deteriorating weather, the temporary respite from the rain over, our focus was on getting to Siglufjörður and limiting our stops to those along the direct route there. This ruled out visiting Reykjafoss which would have involved another walk in the rain. Just before exiting the ring road to head north into Siglufjörður, I wanted to stop at Víðimýrarkirkja, built in 1834 and one of the few preserved turf-roofed churches still in Iceland. Beyond that, halfway to our destination, I wanted to stop at Grafarkirkja, the oldest church in Iceland.

Lovely Víðimýrarkirkja

We Left Quickly as It Started to Rain Hard
and Two Tour Buses Started Belching Visitors

With Víðimýrarkirkja just off the ring road and with enough parking for a bus or two, it seems to be highly visited. I would have liked to have spent more time here taking it in, but it started raining harder and two tour buses spoiled all tranquility. We hustled away to Grafarkirkja which is decidedly not tour bus friendly, involving opening a closed gate to access the car park down a dirt road, then a several-hundred meter walk to the church in the middle of a vast pasture.

Spectacular Setting for Grafarkirkja

Spectacular Carving on the Rake Boards

Situated near the village of Hofsós, Grafarkirkja is the oldest turf church in Iceland, the oldest Christian church, and among the most ornately decorated. Parts of this church date to the 17th century, but the Sturlunga Saga attests to a church on this location from 1240. I love that it sits in a pasture surrounded by a circular turf wall broken only by an ornate wooden gate. I wonder if this or similar buildings did not influence J.R.R. Tolkien.

In the gray afternoon, we made our way into Siglufjörður, navigating a couple of the one-lane tunnels for which the Tröllaskagi is renowned. This drive has reportedly spectacular alpine vistas, but we could not see a thing in the fog and the rain. Sadly, we missed all the beauty of this peninsula.

Once in the small town, it was not hard to find Segull 67 Brewery, one of the more renowned small breweries in Iceland. For English speakers, segull, meaning magnet, seems easy to pronounce. However, it does not sound like the obvious seagull, but seh-gootl. Thankful to be inside on a dreary day, we met a bunch of Americans and a pair of Brits all traveling as a group.

Eclectic Interior of Segull 67

After the brewery and on the way to the grocery store, we poked about the cute town a bit. I am sure that it is a fun place to wander around on a warm, sunny day, but today was not that day.

Siglufjörður

We found our apartment building without too much difficulty. Its address was advertised at number 2, but fortunately our host had included a photo showing 2A, keeping us from ending up in the wrong part of the building. Down a half flight of stairs, we found a superbly nicely appointed modern apartment, both spacious and with a nice kitchen that we took no advantage of.

Ann wanted nachos for dinner, so we scrounged what we could from the limited selection at the tiny store: a bag of Doritos (no other chips to be found), a small bottle of sriracha, a can of black beans, and a small bag of grated cheese. Ann was perplexed at the Cool American-flavored Doritos, no plain ones being for sale. I assured her that they had to be Cool Ranch, a title that would be largely meaningless in Icelandic and European markets where ranch dressing is not well understood. After layering the chips and other ingredients, I applied some microwave magic.

Ersatz "Nachos" Courtesy of Chef Mike

We turned in to our comfortable bed in our extremely nice apartment, an apartment that was begging us to stay longer. Knowing it was impossible, I wanted to spend another night here (unlike in Hvammstangi that I could have skipped altogether without regret) to see the town in better weather. Equally, however, I was looking forward to our next two nights and our whale watching trip in nearby Húsavík, a mere two-hour drive without any detours. Detour we would, but that is a tale for the next post. I fell asleep hoping that the rain would break tomorrow.