Snæfellsnes Peninsula, Iceland
The drive to the northwest of Iceland was an adventure so much like travelling to another planet. We took a small group tour which picked us up at 9 am. From there, we were no longer in the familiar world.
Travel by way of fjords northwest. A long tunnel dips below the water of a fjord to emerge on the other side - the area of the Snæfellsnes peninsula felt like prehistoric Iceland: whale bones on the beach, chunky grey-blue rocks, and tiptoe grass layering above the sands, all set against the backdrop of the darkest mountains I have seen. Black and imposing, even in the midst of layers of cloud and fog. My imagination sparks alive in this atmosphere. Pausing for the most delicious home cooked lunch at a horse farm, with breathtaking views out the window of said dark mountains. It was here the rain started but there were more dramatic locations to experience. For in Iceland the saying goes that there is no bad weather, just wrong clothing.
The moody, misty atmosphere accompanied the rain and with a bend in the road the sea and dramatic coast came into view. One can not neglect to stand in awe of such scenery, even amidst raindrops.
The famous black church standing firm on the unprotected hillside, exposed to the winds coming off the crashing sea. Huge, mossy boulders broke away from the coast now seem to be frozen in a poetic stance. Protector of the region, statue of Bárður Snæfellsás watches over the paths along the cliff side, ready to help a lost or troubled hiker. I just read/listened to his saga before leaving for Iceland, so it was particularly enjoyable to see the place connected with the saga literature. And the dramatic cliffs rise high above the tumultuous sea. One can just stand there windswept and wet, not wanting to leave that spot too soon.
The atmosphere was mystical and otherworldly and as my nose was glued to the window I could easily see the stories of old running across the lava fields, dancing along these crevices. I could feel the words forming into story - if I had my book out to write I could have started my next tale, but I couldn't take my eyes off the landscape. Still rainy, we drove along the thin roads to the black sand beach Djúpalónssandur, which is like a scene from a mystical epic. Strange rock formations and lush green moss growing on them leads down the path to the black sands. Scattered remnants of a shipwreck from 1948 dotted the wide beach down to the rough waves. It was very mysterious standing there amidst waves and wind, sweeping the past into present.
Icelandic Fog
Foul and dull you dismiss
the fog of our fatherland -
don’t you realize it is
the creator changing his mind?
Like you, he wants the weather
to bear a fitting name,
yet he demurs at either
the sunshine or the rain.
(Stephan Stephansson)
No comments:
Post a Comment