Overnight, we have traveled 206 nautical miles to the Westfjords, and are dropping an anchor at the largest town on the peninsula at 8:00am. As we cruise into the harbor, we see what a beautiful day it is and get a glimpse of the beautiful scenery we are in store for on our tour.
Our tour, entitled Dynjandi Waterfall and Local Village, will begin at 8:45. For that reason, we have breakfast at the Terrace Café right when it opened. Having said that, so many others are ahead of us that we have to dine in the open part of the restaurant right on the stern. What a lucky circumstance, because the weather is perfect and the ambience out there so serene. It is a wonderful beginning of what we anticipate will be an interesting day.
This is a “tender port,” in that we use the lifeboats as tenders to get to shore. The water is calm, and the ride only takes a few minutes. Many of the excursions are starting around this time, so there are several buses, and we are routed to ours quickly. A buzz of anticipation fills the air. We board and our guide Halla (pronounced Had’jla in Icelandic, we learn later) introduces herself.
Before continuing with this narrative of our day, it would be appropriate to set the scene. Here is a short description of Isajordur from Wikipedia: “safjörður (pronounced [ˈiːsaˌfjœrðʏr̥], meaning ice fjord, literally fjord of ices. … With a population of about 2,600, Ísafjörður is the largest settlement in the peninsula of Vestfirðir (Westfjords) and the administration centre of the Ísafjarðarbær municipality, which includes—besides Ísafjörður—the nearby villages of Hnífsdalur, Flateyri, Suðureyri, and Þingeyri. … The climate is characterised by cold winters and cool summers. The warmest month is July with the mean temperature of 9.9 °C (49.8 °F); the wettest is November with 120 mm (4.7 in) of precipitation.”
And here is a short description of the Westfjords from Wikipedia: “The Westfjords or West Fjords is a large peninsula in northwestern Iceland and an administrative district, the least populous administrative district. It lies on the Denmark Strait, facing the east coast of Greenland. It is connected to the rest of Iceland by a seven-kilometre-wide isthmus. The Westfjords are very mountainous; the coastline is heavily indented by dozens of fjords surrounded by steep hills. These indentations make roads very circuitous and communications by land difficult. In addition many of the roads are closed by ice and snow for several months of the year. The Vestfjarðagöng road tunnel from 1996 has improved that situation. The tunnel avoids the Breiðadalsheiði road pass, whose summit at 610m was formerly the highest pass in regular use in the Westfjords. It was frequently blocked by snow and prone to avalanches.
“The lack of flat lowlands in the area limits the potential for agriculture, which is mostly restricted to low-intensity sheep grazing near the fjords. Good natural harbors in many of the fjords and their proximity to fishing areas are vital for the local economy. The Westfjords are very sparsely populated, even by Icelandic standards: the total population in 2020 was 7,115.”
Our guide Halla is a hoot, and her picture is the one you see above. She explains that she grew up in Sudureyri, a small village we will visit later. She is forty years old, has been a guide for fourteen years, and also is a hiking and mountain climbing guide as well. She very quickly makes us feel right at home, especially with anecdotes about her upbringing. Her father is a farmer who keeps 350 sheep (“and he knows the name of every one” she exclaims proudly) and he raised her. She has a wonderful self-deprecating sense of humor, and is of course full of anecdotal information about the area we pass through as well as tidbits about everything. Here are some we hear at this point in the tour:
- Snow avalanches are less common than they used to be, but they can be deadly, especially because some villages are wedged between the water and the mountains behind them. In fact, in 1996, in one village we pass near, 20 people died in one – 10% of the entire population of the town. Many residents moved out of there permanently.
- The Westfjord area has the best water in Iceland. [We see that as quite a compliment, because we found the tap water in our hotel in Reykjavik to be some of the best we have ever tasted!]
- Skiing is popular, especially cross-country skiing.
- Almost all churches in Iceland face south. Her study of history, one of her hobbies, tells her that it probably due to a cathedral in Reykjavik being built facing south, with an edict from the bishop that all subsequently built churches in Iceland face that direction.
- We see hundreds and hundreds of “hay rolls,” most wrapped in white plastic. Halla tells us that we may see ones wrapped in pink plastic. 10% of them in the country are done that way, with proceeds donated to cancer research. Locals sometimes refer to these as “Troll Candy.”
- Elf Stones: Halla explains the fascinating legends surrounding elves. Iceland is dotted with elf stones, isolated basalt boulders that are thought to homes to elves. These are not the friendly elves of cartoon fame, and it is said that they live in these stones and will wreak havoc with anyone who disturbs them. There are many stories about construction projects suffering unexplained accidents because elf stones have been either moved or destroyed, and many a road project has been routed around one that would otherwise be moved to make way for the road. In fact, Halla’s father has an elf stone on his farm. Every year at Christmas, he brings a plate of food and leaves it by the stone for its elven inhabitants. When Halla has gently mocked him for this practice, his answer is: “Our house has not been burned in sixty years, and that’s because of this respectful gesture to them.” End of subject.
- We pass by several fish farms. Our guide is not a fan, because she fears the pollution that occurs in the water because of the concentration of fish droppings. She understands that the industry supplies many good-paying jobs and that it must exist, but she suggests that they adopt what she has learned is happening in Maine. Fish farms there are surrounding by beds of mussels, and these creatures feed off the fish poop and clean the surrounding ocean.
- The only animal native to Iceland is the Arctic Fox. In the 1980’s, the government made the mistake of allowing mink farming. Some of the mink have subsequently escaped and are a menace to all the other animals who live in the country.
- She mentions that ravens live year-round in Iceland. There are over 100 of them in the town in which she lives. People feed them, so they do not have any reason to migrate.
- There has been an increase in sightings of humpback whales in Iceland. The reason for that is the warming of the ocean, and the whales migrate further north to find cold water.
About twenty-five minutes out of Isafjordur, we enter a tunnel, not just any tunnel. Cathy is nervous; Steve is fascinated, so much so that, by way of explanation why, he is including this Wikipedia article:
“Vestfjarðagöng (Icelandic pronunciation: [ˈvɛstˌfjarðaˌkœiŋk], regionally also [-ˌkœŋk], ‘Westfjords Tunnel’) is the longest tunnel in Iceland. It has a length of 9,113 m (29,898 ft) and was opened in September 1996.
The photo above is that of the junction at the core of the tunnel.
The tunnel has three entrances and the three arms meet at junction in the tunnel. The three arms are known as:
- Breiðadalur, 4,150 m (13,615 ft), which gives access to Flateyri and the south-western part of the Westfjords;
- Botnsdalur 2,907 m (9,537 ft), which gives access to the village of Suðureyri to the west, a dead end route;
- Tungudalur 2,103 m (6,900 ft), which gives access to Ísafjörður and the northern part of the Westfjords.
Only the Tungudalur arm has two lanes throughout. Much of the rest of the tunnel has only one lane with passing places, with traffic light control to avoid collisions.
The tunnel avoids the Breiðadalsheiði road pass, whose summit at 610m was formerly the highest pass in regular use in the Westfjords. It was frequently blocked by snow and prone to avalanches.”
Because there are two lanes in the Tungudalar arm which we have entered, we do not have to stop. But when we reach the junction, and are therefore entering the Tungudalur section, it changes to one lane, and the traffic facing us has the right of way. Therefore, our bus must pull over into one of the many pullovers (marked with a lit ‘M’ sign, meaning Meetingplace) whenever opposing vehicles approach. Our guide says that, at times, it can take a half an hour to traverse the length of the tunnel during busy times of the day if you are the one to wait. We pull over at least six or eight times to let cars pass in the other direction.
More beautiful countryside and more interesting information, especially about the winters, which are the most severe in Iceland. A power line is parallel to the road we are on, which will take us to our first stop: Dynjandi waterfall. Invariably each winter, a storm will down these power lines, leaving the communities served without power for days. It happened once or twice each winter, and Halla expresses admiration for the crews that work to restore the power.
We now pass through another tunnel. This one was completed in 2020, and is two-lanes wide throughout, which our guide says is now a European Union requirement. It is 6 kilometers long (3.9 miles), and the speed limit is 70 kilometers/hour (45 mph). There has been talk about applying tolls to these tunnels, which, as one can imagine, does not sit well with those who need to use them. Halla states that payroll taxes in Iceland are in the 50% range, so locals feel that they’ve already paid for these tunnels.
We emerge a couple of miles short of our destination, where we arrive at 10:30am. We leave the bus, and Halla asks us to be back to the bus by Noon. She has set up five crates with various snacks: apples, apple juice, blueberry skyr (thick yogurt), salmon sandwiches and water. Cathy looked at the hike up to Dynjandi and decided to stay behind while Steve climbs up to them.
Dynjandi, which also goes by the name Fjallfoss, cascades some 99-100 meters (328 feet), looking remarkably like a beautiful bridal veil. On top, it is 30 meters (98 feet) wide and widens up to 60 meters (197 feet) at the bottom. There are six other falls that you pass on the rough and steep hiking trail that takes you up 200 meters (650 feet) in elevation.
Some guides indicate that you can make the hike to the foot of Dynjandi in fifteen minutes. It takes Steve twice that time, and it was not exactly a walk in the park. It’s steep, filled with rocks boulders and, sometimes loose gravel. By the time he reached his destination, he was panting heavily and soaked with sweat (TMI?). But it was worth it for the photos of the falls and the beautiful fjord and valley below. He spent fifteen minutes taking in the views and started back, and the descent, like most mountain hikes, was way more treacherous that the ascent.
Cathy, as is her wont to do, made friends with everyone who decided to stay below. By the time Steve returned and had had some of the snacks (including the blueberry skyr, a true Icelandic treat), she had made many friends. It was very fun to return and see how much enjoyment she gave to the people she met.
We leave as scheduled, pass through a tiny village and a small hydroelectric plant and back into the new tunnel. Halla entertains us with more stories, information and humorous tidbits:
- In 1940, when the British army arrived to occupy the country, they handed out pamphlets saying “We’ll be nice to you; please be nice to us.” “And we were!” she adds.
- All over the Westfjords, fishing is a frequent topic. Halla’s advice: “If you want to start a conversation with an Icelander, talk about either fish or the weather!”
- Blueberries are a favorite fruit, mainly because it was the only fruit that was native grown and therefore available. She adds: “We use them in everything, especially skyr.” There is a very short growing season beginning in August and lasting until the first frost in September. If the frost comes too early, much of the crop is lost.
- As in many western countries, family farms are disappearing. There were dozens in the area back when she was young (she’s 40); now only around six. Big industrial farms are gobbling up the family spreads.
- All of the mountains we see today are flat on top. This is because they were ground down by the glacier in the last Ice Age.
- Iceland and New Zealand share some similarities: 1) both countries have the lowest crime rates in the world; 2) plant species and 3) topography. Reason: similar latitudes, just different hemispheres.
We enter the Vestfjarðagöng tunnel again, but this time we turn left at the intersection that will take us to the fishing village Suðureyri. It has a population of 250 people, including Halla’s sister and her seven children (Halla: “My sister’s doing her part!”). The bus parks near the village church and we walk to various parts as our guide explains what we are seeing.
We pass by the village school, where children attend through age 16 (10th grade). There is a beautiful map of the Westfjord on the wall.
Opposite the school, we stop at the village church, which we find is unfortunately closed. Unlike most all Lutheran churches in Iceland, which are owned by the Icelandic Lutheran Church organization, this one is owned by the villagers. The village was established, in the early part of the 20thcentury. In then 1930s, the son of the founder had asked the Icelandic Lutheran Church for funds to build a church and was turned down, so he decided to build one for the village. It opened in 1937 and is an exception to the rule in that its tower does not face south.
Next stop is the harbor where the fishing boats are kept. One of them, named the ALI, was built in 1932 and her owner, who is nearly 90, still fishes. The boats are relatively small. The government encourages the proliferation of these craft by making it economical to use them. The license the fishermen have allows them to catch 770 kilos (1,700 pounds) in a four-day fishing week without paying any taxes. Apparently because the taxes are so high in Iceland, this is quite an incentive. They fish with lines, not nets. The catch is generally cod and catfish, but occasionally halibut.
The next stop is right outside the fish processing plant, obviously where the fishermen bring their catch. We stand outside looking through a large window, especially put there so we can see the employees processing the fish for shipment. We are each given a tiny mason jar in which a small portion of smoked salmon with a creamy sauce is placed on lettuce. This is another fish caught in the Westfjords, and it is delicious.
We move along through the village and stop at three picnic tables located outside of a small store. There we see that a large tray of codfish cakes has been brought out for us, and there are jars of locally-made tartar sauce to put on them on the tables. One by one, Halla gives out a codfish cake to each if us, and we sit down and enjoy them. Cathy mentions that there is a considerable percentage of mashed potato mixed in with the codfish, which gives it a firm texture. Everyone raves about them, and also the tartar sauce. We listen to our guide talk about what it’s like to live in such a small community where, as she emphasizes, you know every single person and they know you.
After our codfish cake snack, we do some more walking through town until we make another stop by an odd open apparatus. Halla asks us to guess what it is, and no one has a clue. Turns out it’s a rack used for drying halibut, another fish caught by the local fishermen. As she describes the process, she reaches into a wooden box and brings out an object. She shows it around, and we discover it is indeed one half of a dried halibut.
She brings out a small sledge hammer, and asks if someone would help her prepare the halibut for her by pounding it with the sledge. Steve volunteers, of course, and gives the meat of the fish a half dozen hard whacks to soften it up. For his chores, he gets the first small piece. She continues to hand out samples as she describes the process of drying the fish. She also explains that this is a vital part of their diet because it is practically all protein. She adds that she practically grew up on the stuff as a snack, as did most kids. It’s pretty dry and not all that full of taste, but certainly something you could develop a taste for.
Our tasting tour is now over, and we are way ahead of schedule. Our guide takes a quick sense of the crowd. We can stay in the village for another hour and a half, or cut our visit to the café to a half hour, walk back to the bus and head back to Isafjordur. This will put us back at the dock almost an hour early. It’s our choice. We all opt to shorten the tour. We’ve been on the road all day, and the prospect of getting back to the ship around 4-4:30 is very appealing. We are certain our guide is pleased with our choice as well. She’s been entertaining and informing us for almost six hours already.
Next, we are to go to a small café for a half hour break. As is everything in this delightful small community, it is right down the street. We can use the WC (restrooms in European parlance), purchase a beer, coffee or food, and just relax. We crowd the place, but the service is excellent.
Steve doesn’t enter the café right away because it’s too crowded. Outside, he sees an opportunity to ask Halla a question. He strikes up a conversation with her with the observation that the village looks like a “company town” because every commercial enterprise appears to be owned by a company by the name of FISHERMAN. That includes the fish processing plant, a small hotel, the café where we are at and even the tour bus we are riding on.
She answers yes, that is indeed the case, and it worries her. The economy of this community depends entirely on the success of this one enterprise, which is owned by one person. He is obviously smart and successful, but a dependency on one company in one industry is risky. He fails and the town fails. It’s happened in another village and it was devastating. They have recovered, but it took years. She knows the owner, of course, and he’s only 50, so she has confidence in him, but still is concerned – not that anything should be done about it. Interesting point of view, Steve thinks.
Both of us get in line in the café. While we are waiting for we-don’t-quite-know-what, Cathy spies a refrigerated display case. One of the products for sale is the fabulous tartar sauce we had on our codfish cakes. We were really hoping we would find this! Instead of food or a beverage, we opt for two jars of this delicious product.
As we are paying, she asks if it needs to stay refrigerated. The proprietor says yes, it should be. Cathy is concerned until he says “You do have a small refrigerator in your stateroom, right?” Problem solved. We walk away outside with our delicious find.
Cathy wants to sit down and sees some fellow passengers at a picnic table across the street. Steve has not had nearly enough photo ops and wants to wander the village taking pictures of this charming community. We part company and will meet at the bus.
We board the bus and leave Sudureyri with a sense that we have gotten some sense of the character of this village and the rural life of the Westfjords peninsula.
But Halla has more information to share:
- The tunnel that opened in 1996 largely ended the isolation of the village, which has been a good thing. But not entirely, Halla explains. Prior to the tunnel, each of these small villages were entirely self-sufficient. Each one had a grocery store, a pharmacy, a local doctor and other services and stores. Those have all closed, and residents have to drive to Isafjordur to access all those services. She understands why this had to happen, but laments the loss of independence the village once had.
- As we drive along the shore of the fjord, she notes that every village has a pier made out of stone – all of them in veery good condition. There is a reason for this: there will be instances in most winters when the only access to and from many villages is by boat because the roads are blocked with snow. There are organized search-and-rescue organizations that can reach the villages by sea, but the pier must be maintained,
- These search-and-rescue organizations are totally manned by volunteers, and they fund their operations through the sale of fireworks that are set off to celebrate the New Year. Last year, Isafjordur set off eight tons of fireworks.
- There are three months of darkness in winter, which is a difficult and l-o-n-g period of time. Iceland therefore has an annual holiday on January 25th when the country celebrates Sunny Day, when there is a period of 1 ½ minutes of daylight. Halla remarks that there are many, many hangovers the next day!
We arrive back in Isafjordur as expected, and indeed are on a tender for the short ride to our ship around 4pm. It is not customary to tip tour guides in Iceland, but many of make an exception for Halla. She has been a delightful companion to have today. She not only gave us a wealth of information about the gorgeous Westfjords region, but treated us to so many personal anecdotes and observations that we leave with a real sense of life in this most rural part of Iceland.
We sail from Isafjordur at 5:30pm. We will travel for two days, covering 1,001 miles to reach our next port of call, Paamiut, Greenland. We leave Iceland knowing that, while we had a fascinating three days being introduced to this unique land, it has been just that, an introduction. We vow to return to learn more.
