Day 1--Reykjavik, the South Coast, and the Golden Circle

Mom and I disembarked from the plane groggy, but giddy as two school girls.  It was starting to sink in that we had actually arrived in Iceland!  We rolled through immigration and customs without incident (aside from mom´s devastation at having to remove nearly every article of clothing only to find that her silver jewelry set off the sensors!), collected our rental car, and headed off into the bitter cold and biting wind.  In all honesty, we had no idea to where.  We just pulled out of the parking lot...  and decided to follow signs for Reykjavik.  Ironically, we thought we were flying to the capital directly, but it turns out that we flew in about 45 min south, to the town of Keflavik.

Once in Reykjavik, we had two missions.  1--to EAT!  and 2--to find a restroom.  Ultimately, both of these needs were hard to satisfy at 8am on a Friday morning.  After 30 minutes of slow, deliberate searching, we happened upon a small hotel.  They graciously allowed us to dine on a light breakfast of toast, sliced ham, sliced cheese, sliced tomoates, cucumbers, pickled herring, marmalade, mueslix, milk, yogurt, tea and coffee.  (This meal, by the way, has turned out to be the staple breakfast here.  I have yet to ascertain whether it is the staple for the locals as well, but it certianly is consistent across hotels.) With both of our needs met, we commenced to devise a plan.  We decided to spend the day along the southern coast to see for ourselves the impact of the volcano and its ensuing flood.

We took our time driving, as we acclimated to the road conditions, local speed limits (90km/hr most places), traffic signals (few and far between) and driving etiquette (kill or be killed).  We stopped frequently to admire wildlife, interesting buildings, and beautiful views, and to investigate local wool crafts. 

Soon we reached the end of Route 1 (a road which has encircles the entire island until recently).  The road was roped off with a simple flourescent yellow cord at the end of the bridge and guarded by a police car.  The other end of the bridge, we are told, touches nothing, as 400m of asphalt were removed to ease flooding.  Perched here at the windy end of civilization were several news crews awaiting headlining stories, and several other tourists like ourselves eager to see nature´s power.  Between the cold, the wind, and the clouds, waiting was no simple task, so many reporters were napping in their cars.
 

The flood plain itself was relatively undramatic, not having seen it´s previous splendor.  The cliff face at the edge of the glacier yielded a few graceful waterfalls, but a thick cloud bank hid the glacier itself and any other signs of the volcano.  What was remarkable, however, were the bits and pieces of the glacier that the flood had left behind.  The shoreline, consisting of dark, black volcanic sand, was littered with smooth chunks of glacial ice--some as small as a golf ball and others as big as a beach ball!  We snagged one of these chunks and threw it in our lunch cooler.  It has been serving us now for 3 days, keeping our dairy products cold.

Once we had seen enough, or our fingertips grew too cold to grip our cameras, we headed back to the car, opting to head for the dramatic "Golden Circle" in SW Iceland.  It turns out that this region is so named because it is laden with geothermic activity.  Though the leisurely ride had afforded us time to thaw, we froze. our little tootsies off, as we walked past bubbling sulfur springs and steaming holes, (all bringing me back to the Azores and the Caldeiras) and braced ourselves against the wind to watch a large geyser in the town of Geysir erupt a few times. 

Thoroughly chilled, and noticing the sun was starting to set, we headed back to the car, stopping in the gift shop for a new wollen hat for me (a total lifesaver) and a tip on a local hotel. The store manager called ahead for us to Hotel Gullfoss (pronounced Goodfoos), reserving us a room for the night and two seats for dinner that evening. He sent us off to go just 60km to find the hotel. Relieved to know we would have beds that evening, we drove off in the direction of the town of Gullfoss.   We chatted excitedly about how nicely things worked out, set the odometer, snapped shots of the surrounding view, and drove onwards.. and onwards....  but after only 30km or so, the road got smaller, and smaller, until it tunred into a ragged gravel road heading to a glacier.  Parked at the end of this road were two snowmobile tour supply vans and two generators.  Hmmmm.  Perhaps we had amade a mistake.  It seemed unlikely there would be a hotel out here.  Banging a quick u-turn, we headed back to a cafe we had seen along the way.  Closed.  10 minutes previously.  Furtunately, some tour guides were chatting in their vans in the parking lot, and they pointed us back down the road.  Just 2 km away.

Low and behold, we had passed the hotel soon after the gift shop.   Apparently some things do get lost in translation.  In turns out the man meant 6km not 60km.  BIG DIFFERENCE!  We were so busy gawking, and looking at the map, plotting our direction that we hadn´t noticed the two big signs pointing us to our safe pasture.  Needless to say we both heaved a huge sigh of relief as we pulled in the driveway at 8:30.  After a laughing explanation and apology, we were seated for an amazing dinner, of which our choices were. lamb, horse, or lax....  hmmm.  That´s a toughie for a furry-animal-loving gal like me.  Mom opted for the lamb and I enjoyed two cuts of lax (salmon).  It was an exquisite meal to cap the night and caused our eyelids to droop.  We waddled our full stomachs off to our soft beds for the night.