Skaftafell

We have a little driving ahead of us today as we change location to the eastern half of Iceland. Our final destination is a hotel just outside of the Skaftafell National Park which will serve as our base of operations for exploring the glaciers. There are a few places along the way we also want to see however, so after a valiant attempt to eat the last of our refrigerated goods (no more kitchens from here on out), we load up the car and say goodbye to our cabin.

Six inches or so of snow has fallen overnight, and while we do have four wheel drive, our Jeep isn’t tricked out with the latest in head’s-up display technology. Fortunately, I never travel without my my personal safety consultant, who diligently reports on my speed, road position, and potential dangers ahead (real and imagined), so as long as she can keep it up for the next 4-6 hours, we should be in good shape.

After passing Seljalandsfoss, our first stop is the Eyjafjallajökull (or as we call it, the volcano that erupted in 2010) Visitor Center. It’s a tiny little place on a farm that was evacuated during the eruption, and the highlight is probably the short film showing the impact and how the area has recovered. Judging by the traffic in the parking lot on a cold, February day, the visitor center has become a pretty lucrative side business, so there is some silver lining I suppose.

Not much further down the road we come to Skógafoss, which is apparently the second most famous waterfall in Iceland (after Gulfoss). There is a set of roughly 400 steps up the side of this one to a look out point at the top. Challenge accepted of course, but personally I prefer the views from the base.

On the way back to the highway we see a food truck with a pretty good crowd around it selling fish and chips. For the low, low food truck price of only $20 we decide to give it a try. It’s a good choice, and the Roberts boys plow through it so quickly that I’m surprised one of them didn’t vacuum up a utensil by mistake.

Next up is Vík (well, aside a brief stop at Dyrhólaey, but not much to report from there), a small, seaside town which is the southernmost in Iceland. It’s a more popular spot in the summer, but even now we’re floored by the amazing black sand beach just a few steps away.

Across from the parking lot is a large souvenir shop selling what certainly appears to be authentic Viking garb.

In addition to a few trinkets, we finally man up and buy a bag of harðfiskur, a classic Icelandic snack food that is best described as fish jerky. In retrospect, opening the bag in a closed car may have been a mistake, but once your olfactory nerves get desensitized a bit, it’s not so bad. As for taste, I don’t think we’ll be looking too hard for a place that sells harðfiskur in Redmond, but after a few pieces it kind of grows on you a bit.

For a change, the skies are clear, and despite the town being small, it has far more than its fair share of photo-worthy sights.

Fully restocked with fuel and snacks, the last leg of our journey today takes us through some pretty wide open (and of course, spectacular) scenery. Where just a few days ago we started in Reykjavik with no snow, here it is almost one Nick deep, and drifting most of the way up the wall of our hotel.

Where just a few days ago we started in Reykjavik with no snow, here it is almost one Nick deep, and drifting most of the way up the wall of our hotel.

All in all, it has been a good day, and as we check in for the night, we’re looking forward to our hike into the glacier tomorrow, followed by a few other stops along the coast. The travel gods have something else in mind for the Roberts family though, and a small sign on the reception desk is our first clue. The words “Severe Weather Advisory” can mean a lot of different things, but I think all of them are bad. Fingers crossed the purpose is to warn us that it’s going to be just too darn sunny.

Nope. Instead, they are planning on closing all of the highways in the country about 12 hours from now due to high winds and blowing snow. All plans are up in the air now. At this point we don’t know if our tour will still run in the morning (and even if it does, will we even want to hike a glacier in a windstorm), how we find out (the tour company’s office is closed for the night and opens again long after we’d need to leave in them morning to get to the meeting point in time), or even if we’ll be able to get back to Reykjavik tomorrow evening since we have no other place to stay.

On a positive note, the quintessential “calm before the storm” has cleared the skies overhead and is giving us one more shot at seeing the Northern Lights.