Europe 2019 : Day 18 The Iceland Tour Begins

Monday 26th August

The hotel booking confusion mentioned yesterday popped up again on Monday morning. The tour was due to begin with tour members being picked up from their respective hotels, transferred to a central point in Reykjavik, assigned to their correct buses and then being sent on their way. Fairly simple really. So long as the tour company knows where you are.

Waiting in the lobby of our hotel we got to talking to another guest, Sue, who we soon discovered was on the same tour as us, and another couple who were doing something else.

One bus from our tour company turned up only to find that the people to be picked up had not yet surfaced for breakfast – seems there was confusion as to whether the correct time was 8am or 9am – and then Sue was collected. There was no mention of us on the guide’s pick-up list.

Twenty minutes later and I was starting to contemplate ringing the company to find out what was going on when our names were called and all was well in the world again. It seems that one part of the tour company had us listed as being at a particular hotel (not the one we were in, nor the original proposed location) and there was some scrambling at HQ to determine where we were, even though our new tour buddy Sue let them know exactly what was going on.

By 9am the whole group of 19 had been assembled and we’d been introduced to our guide, Sindri, who then commenced an 7-day comedy routine while acting as driver and loader of luggage. The bus wasn’t that big so suitcases were carried in a trailer and small day packs could fit into the main bus in overhead racks.

The tour bus

The tour group consisted of five couples, six singles and one family group of three. There were four Australians (the two of us, and two single women); the trio from Canada; singles from Italy, France (though originally from Taiwan), and Scotland (originally from China); with the rest from the US. Ages ranged from 20 to mid-sixties. A fair mix, and all of them looked fitter than us, as would later prove to be the case.

Prior to the trip we’d decided that we didn’t want to lug extra weight in the form of hiking boots and waterproof trousers around with us for a month when we only needed them for less than a week, so had decided to rent them from the tour company. Rob’s boots and trousers fitted okay, though the trousers were of a rubber-like material which didn’t breathe much and made her sweat up a lot. My boots were fine but they had provided me with the same size trousers as Robyn which had no hope of fitting me. I pointed this out to Sindri who promised to get the problem fixed the next day when we got to the glacier.

Robyn and I had both recently read Sagaland by Richard Fielder and Kari Gislason, by way of background to the country. That book details Fielder’s investigation of a country that he was fascinated by, and Gislason’s journey back to his homeland in search of his heritage. It gave us a basic understanding of the country’s myths and history and interest in family relationships, which proved helpful over the days ahead.

The tour schedule calls for us to travel around Iceland in an anti-clockwise direction, generally staying close to the coast, with some diversions inland. The weather from the previous day was still hanging around though it did seem to be getting a little better. Still overcast, with a slight wind and some drizzle but not the sideways sleet of the day before.

Our first stop is at Thingvellir, some 40km northeast of the capital, set in a rift valley caused by the Mid-Atlantic rift, and site of the original Icelandic Parliament, first established in 930AD. It’s possible here to stand on both the European and North American tectonic plates at the same time, which felt rather like straddling the equator.

Sindri explains, Robyn listens

Next stop was Gullfoss, literally “Golden Falls”, though only if the sun was shining through the waterfall mist. As no sun was visible the name here didn’t seem overly applicable. We would get to see quite a lot of waterfalls over the coming week. Without the waterproofs I got wet pretty quickly so didn’t hang around the viewing spot for very long.

It was windy

Lunch found us at Geysir, site of a few geysers (from the Icelandic word “geysa”, meaning “to gush”) including Strokkur which erupts every 5-7 minutes. It was rather cold with the temperature sitting at or just below 10C and the wind chill factor dropping that by a few degrees. And it was still technically summer.

Strokkur gushes

Seljalandsfoss followed lunch. By now you’ll be seeing the use of the “foss” suffix on these names. It basically means “waterfall” in Icelandic, and, to my ear at least, seems appropriate. This waterfall has its source in the glacier on the volcano Eyjafjallajökull, which you may recall caused massive air-traffic havoc in 2010 all over Europe. The wind blew the ash and dust from that eruption high into the atmosphere to the east so the Icelanders weren’t bothered by it at all. Their major amusement was caused by the chaos caused to other countries and by the amusing attempts by non-Icelandic news commentators trying to pronounce the volcano’s name. We’d been taught an English-sounding cheat phrase, that closely approximated the true Icelandic pronunciation, on our Reykjavik walking tour. Can’t tell you what it is though as it’s a trade secret.

Seljalandsfoss drops over an escarpment over 60m high and allows visitors to walk behind the falling water into a cave carved out of the cliff face. Robyn trekked off to see it but I stayed back on the paved path across the face as I didn’t want to get saturated by the falling water.

Waterfall with humans

Skogafoss followed before we headed to Reynisfjara Black Sand Beach. Here the waves on the south coast ripped across the smooth back sand forming what are called “sneaker waves” – basically waves that travel much faster and further than people realise causing waterlogged shoes and drenched trousers. We had a quick look and headed back to the bus.

We made it to our hotel in the countryside, after driving through the coastal town of Vik, not long before 7pm. I was able to have a small glass of Irish whiskey and Robyn a glass of pinot grigio before dinner; we’d taken the precaution of bringing in a few bottles duty free. Which was a good move as both alcohol and food were expensive by Australian standards.

We were exhausted by the time we got to bed. It had been a very long day and the rest of the trip promised more of the same.