There is a very small window during which Iceland can be a wonderful place to visit. We tried to match that window precisely--the first two weeks of July (2009 instead of 2008 but whose counting) knowing that even those dates were no guarantee of smooth sailing. Plenty of years have seen raging wind, rain, and even snow, in late June, early July. And yet, by some miracle (with a little global warming thrown in) we were thrilled minute after minute, day after day, by an absolutely incredible, breathtaking 12 days of gorgeous clear skies and spring like temperatures.
And when I say sun, I mean 24 hours of sun. By about 10pm, the precious golden light savored by photographers world round begins to shine, and then from there until about 3am it's a sensuously slow sunset. Following that, is a more mysterious sunrise not too far from the spot that the sun began its descent. In between, there is no darkness. So for slow risers, or people who have a lot of driving to do in between one destination and the next, there is no pressure to beat nightfall. Plus, the habit of eating at 10:30 or 11pm New York time was easily transferable to the spot in front of our tent at the same hour Icelandic time. No lantern or headlamp necessary!
The perks of Iceland are many:
- the vastness, but accessibility of the place (Iceland is the size of Kentucky)
- the lack of people and development of any kind
- the eternal sun
- wild camping is an option and preferable
- the 4-6" thick moss that covers much of the surface of the country
- the availability of delicious fresh fish
- the lack of rodents or bugs or any wild animals other than the elusive reindeer, and field mice
- Icelanders love of wool and felt
- the laid back enforcement of rules and lack of crime
- the ease at which I was able to not only leave the doors of the car open, but happily walk away from the car with the keys in the ignition
- and the diverse and epic landscape
We walked on glaciers, trekked through snow, biked over lava, soaked in natural hot springs, forded 25 rivers, lived outside for 8 days straight, got rescued by Iceland's own Emergency Rescue, drove 1750 kilometers in a Russian Lada Niva 4WD jeep, and remained in awe of what lay before our eyes every inch of the way.
It seemed like nirvana. But, it's important to remember that so much of the rest of the year finds Iceland undercover of snow and darkness. We appreciated our time there that much more realizing how fortunate we were to experience it in the most ideal of circumstances.
Icelanders are incredibly friendly. In a real, no-nonsense sort of way. It seemed like they appreciated that we took the time to visit their home. There are only 300,000 people living in Iceland, most of whom live in Reykjavik. Favorite facts include... the phone book is listed by first name. It is a patrimonial society so last names are one's father's name followed by either 'sson' or 'dotter' depending on one's current gender. They know their landscape like an old friend. There are no trees in Iceland because a series of volcanoes over the last millennium wiped them out. The country, before going bankrupt at least, had a relatively socialist based government. Once upon a recent time, there was 100% employment in Iceland! Architecture seems to follow from politics and so many of the buildings evoke Eastern Europe in their form follows function utilitarianism.
Because there are no trees, one is empowered from a navigational standpoint. Rather than feel lost in a forest that affords a myopic perspective, the openness of the landscape allows one to always take in the larger picture, the grand scheme, the whole scene. So, then the challenge becomes paying attention to the close-up and potentially overlooked. The views may easily distract one from the tiniest of wildflowers or the moss that manages to grow between the lava rocks, the striation of the ice underfoot or the morphing colors of the stone at the base of a mountain.
Driving the Lada Niva was fantastic because we felt like we could take on any road, no matter how un-road like it appeared. Marc theorized that the government didn't spend much time maintaining any road other than the main ring-road because it added to the visitors' sense of adventure. Well, it certainly added to ours. We felt like pioneers, Crocodile Dundee, and James Bond all wrapped into one. Marc excelled at the fording river task and claimed it was just like driving on the FDR drive when it periodically floods. Jill found many differences between the two experiences and held on for dear life and just kept counting.
We brought an ice cooler full of food for the trip which we supplemented along the way with the rare fresh vegetable and fresh fish from a harbor town. Most of Iceland's economy is based on fish and only 1% of the country is devoted to agricultural land so it doesn't take too much deducing to see that if you don't want fish, it's going to be an import and it's going to be expensive. We cooked great meals every night on our little camping stove and ate below a sun drenched sky. The water was phenomenal everywhere but tasted best straight from a newly rutted stream on the glacier! Water and wool probably make up the bulk of Iceland's non-fish exports.
Marc brought along a 'fresh' as well as a hard salami from the 2nd Avenue Deli. They served him relatively well, but got us pulled aside by customs when we tried to return home. The beagle smelled meat. Luckily, the label was still affixed to said salami, vouching for the fact that it was not smuggled in from Iceland.
As honeymoons go, it was pretty hard core and pretty spectacular.
