After punishing the FitBit yesterday, we planned to keep things pretty low key and rest up for a final assault on Angkor Wat, sans guide, to revisit some spots where we felt rushed. I managed to catch up on things back at the office, while my travel partner did some more research for her sleep study. Follow that up with a healthy serving of fresh mangoes, dumplings, and the best egg tarts I’ve eaten outside of Hong Kong, and the next thing you know, noon is staring you in the face.

As you might imagine, I’ve been begging to go shopping since we arrived here, and finally my events coordinator agrees to visit a group of craft centers about X miles out of Siem Reap near the town of Roulos. A tuk-tuk rents for about $15 per day, so we pick one up on the street and are quickly on our way (oooh, I can’t wait to see all those silk scarves).

In our guide book, they talk about the local artisans and how you can watch them make pottery, weave fabrics, and carve stone. Turns out that during festival weekend, none of that happens. The entire place is deserted and even the security patrol is asleep, leaving shelves of merchandise that we could easily walk away with.

We do finally track down someone to take our money and head off with a few souvenirs (ceramics of course, because what better to carry around in a backpack for 21 days than breakables?). Some of the oldest Khmer temples are near Roulos, so despite being templed-out yesterday, we decide to take a look while we are here. We’re a ways off the beaten track here, so we have the place mostly to ourselves, making for a much different vibe.

Back in the tuk-tuk, our driver asks if we want to visit Kompong Phluk. Seeing a floating village mildly piqued our interest when reading about Siem Reap, and since this one is apparently just a few more kilometers down the road we figure, why not? It means an extra five bucks for the driver as well, so everyone’s a winner.

Now on the main roads a tuk-tuk is a perfectly acceptable means of transport. On a dusty, bumpy, country road, somewhat less so. I’m scared of swallowing a bug (see above for the size of bugs around here) if I open my mouth, and pretty sure one of the trucks barreling in the opposite direction is going to kick a rock up into face, but somehow we make it to the pier unscathed.

We have $42 extra dollars however, so the boat mafia graciously takes that off our hands before we are allowed to board. Nobody asks, but of the bigger boats with plenty of passengers and the smaller boats where we can travel alone they know the latter is more our style. It isn’t the most seaworthy looking craft, but if you have to get on a sketchy boat, pick the one where the captain brings his baby.

As the rainy season has just ended, the lake is still quite high and the buildings (homes, schools, restaurants, etc.) in the village are all surrounded by several feet of water. Six months from now, at the end of the dry season, they will be about 15 feet above dry land before the cycle starts again.

Past a certain point, the motor boats can no longer navigate between the trees and the offload you to an even smaller scrap of wood paddled by one of the village ladies. It is all designed to extract maximum value out of the tourists as they take you by a bunch of people selling drinks and talk about using tip money to pay for English school. My fellow road warrior is having none of it though, and I fear we may end up getting dumped deep in the woods all over a dollar.

Finally back on our original boat, we head further into the lake. It is getting late in the day and we’re not sure why we aren’t heading back, but when we pull up to a tired, old platform, we realize we (baby included) are going to get to see a sunset after all.

It is an interesting track back to Siem Reap in the dark (neither our boat nor out tuk-tuk are really configured for late night travel), but this seems like an average day’s work for both drivers, and despite a few white-knuckle moments, we arrive back at Siem Reap in one piece. The streets are completely packed though, as tonight seems like the peak of the Water Festival. We ditch the tuk-tuk and make our way through the crowd, taking advantage of the array of street carts that line the way (we did skip the one selling grubs and cockroaches). The festivities will go on long into the night, too long for us as we’ve got an appointment with sunrise tomorrow.

Some days just don’t turn out like you planned. Today, that was a good thing.

Plenty to cover today so we’ll be skipping stories of the glorious egg tarts and fresh mango at breakfast and fast forwarding right to the Angkor Wat ticket counter. Because we’re so travel savvy, we pressed the agent booking our guide to pick us up at 7:30 instead of 8:30. That way, we’d be plenty far ahead of the tour busses and get a little quiet time to see the ruins and take pictures before the hordes descended. Problem is, about a thousand other people are even more savvy than we are and are already milling around the ticket office or climbing back aboard their busses to head to the gate. Our guide mumbles something about it being high season and then directs us to our queue.

Tickets in hand, we head back to the car for the short drive to Angkor Wat. Along the way, we get a brief introduction to the history and an outline of our itinerary for today. While Angkor Wat is the most well known of the Khmer temples (and the largest religious monument in the world) it is just one of over a thousand in an area covering 400 square kilometers. It is neither the biggest site (Angkor Thom), oldest (Phnom Kulen), most ornate (Banteay Srei), or a host of other characteristics, however, it is the one people come to see by name so is where our tour begins.

To dodge some of the biggest crowds, our guide takes us to the less popular the back gate. There he rambles on for far too long about Buddhists and Hindus, creators and destroyers, heaven and hell, blah, blah, blah. There are some interesting nuggets here and there, but most of it we picked up at the museum already, and this early in the morning, it has the power of a handful of Ambien. Once we are in motion however, he manages to find us some good photo opps and doubles as a pretty good cameraman.

Inside the temple itself, its an absolute madhouse. People are going every direction, selfie sticks are waving all over the place, and tour guides with their flocks of sheeple are struggling to talk over each other in a variety of languages. It feels like Wal-Mart on Black Friday.

Angkor Wat is set out in three concentric layers. The first is the most artistically interesting, with detailed, bas-relief carvings covering the other walls. These tell a collection of stories including the Churning of the Ocean Milk and depictions of rewards and punishments for 37 heavens and 32 hells (one of the latter being jam-packed in a narrow cloister in humid, 90 degree heat, all while wearing temple-friendly full-length pants). The angles and crowds don’t really allow for any good pictures, but there are plenty on Google if you need a visual.

The second layer contains a number of galleries, courtyards, pools (now empty), and of course access to the final level, with its tower said to represent the mythical Mount Meru.

There is also a monk here giving out blessings, and since you can’t have too many of those, we decide to pick one up.

Because space is more limited the higher up you go, only 100 people at a time are allowed past this point. With the festival and peak tourist season kicking in, that means a pleasant 45-minute wait under the mid-day sun before ascending to level three (according to our guide, the lines get longer and the temperature higher the later in the year you get, so I guess that blessing is coming in handy and we aren’t here on New Year’s Day).

It is noticeably less chaotic, allowing time to take in the carvings and eagle-eye views of the entire complex.

One interesting observation is that when looking at the apsaras (dancing nymphs from Indian mythology), all of their boobs are shiny. Not their faces, not their feet, just their boobs. There is a stature in Las Vegas where the finger is all shiny from people rubbing it for good luck, so maybe that explains it. Building full of roosters, statues of naked ladies, the math sort of works out.

After breaking for lunch, we are off to Ta Prohm, a 12th century temple made famous by its cameo in the movie Tomb Raider. Like all temples in the area, it was abandoned as the Khmer empire went into decline, and over the years, was reclaimed by the jungle. The trees and stones now exist in a state of symbiosis, making for countless mind-bending views. There is slow work underway to restore this site, but it’s hard to say whether peeling back the layers of overgrowth will make it better.

Our pace is noticeably faster now, and in fairly quick succession we tick off the three main sights in Angkor Thom the royal residence, Baphuon (which was meticulously taken apart for restoration prior to the Khmer Rouge coming to power and pieced back together despite all of the records being destroyed), and finally, Bayon.

Of these, Bayon is the most well-known, due to its rich carvings and multitude of smiling faces peering out from the towers. It is also the last temple built at Angkor. Of course, with popularity comes tour busses, selfie-sticks, and people blocking narrow pathways and staircases posing for self-styled glamor shots.

A common way to end a day at Angkor Wat is to take in the sunset from Phnom Bakheng, a tiny mound that our guide keeps referring to as a mountain but is a tiny hill just a few hundred feet high. However, after hearing how many people try to cram themselves in the limited space on the top, we decide to take a pass. Sunrise, we’re told, is the better event, and since we still have that on our agenda, call it a day and head back to the hotel.

So, was it worth the wait? That’s a tough question. The temples are breathtaking, pure and simple. But whether it was cramming so much into one day, the relentless crowds, or just the lack of opportunity to sit quietly and take it all in, overall it feels just a little less special than Egypt or Peru. The next few days will be calmer and less clinical, so maybe I’ll reserve my answer until then.

With one of the all-time bucket list destinations just a few miles away, you’d think we’d be out the door early to join the horde of tourists flocking to Angkor Wat. However, a bit a malaise has set in (it seems my sidekick is somewhat contagious) and we have slept in well past the morning rush. Fortunately, our reputation seems to precede us and their breakfast hours extend until almost noon, allowing us to catch the tail end before heading out to explore the city.

After a hearty meal it makes little sense for our first destination to be food-based, but we have been told the world’s greatest ice cream is mere blocks away which is too tempting to pass up (and as Joey taught us long ago, there is a different can inside your body for desserts). It takes a wrong turn down a back alley or two, and short trek along a nasty smelling river, but we eventually find the place and pick out a table.

On the menu is the Ice Mountain with a selection of fruit flavors. The picture shows a large sundae looking thing which looks innocuous enough, and mango is one of the options so all systems are go. Or so it seems. What appears in front of me is the Cambodian version of the Ziggy Pig.

Somehow it all goes down, but unhappy with the dairy bomb now in its possession, my stomach and I spend the next two hours maintaining a very delicate ceasefire.

Our next stop is the Angkor National Museum where we figure we can get a good introduction to what we’ll see over the next few days. The exhibits are quite well done and, given that the whole complex is a collection of temples, it isn’t too surprising that the content mostly ties back to religion. By the time we are finished though, my head is spinning trying to keep track of Hinduism versus Buddhism, which king followed which belief system, and all of the different incarnations of Vishnu.

With both my stomach and brain now threatening rebellion, a relaxing massage seems like a good way to appease them. There are some cheap places along the road back to our hotel, but we’re slowly learning our lesson when it comes to this sort of thing and decide to spend a few extra bucks (literally a few bucks) and go a bit more upscale. So for $17, we spend the next 2 hours being manhandled by a couple of tiny Cambodian ladies.

Feeling significantly better, we make arrangements for a driver and tour guide to take us to the temples in the morning and sit down for a rather bland and uninspiring meal. And with that, our first full day comes to a close.

After way too many airplanes, way too many airports, and way too much mediocre lounge food, we finally touched down in Siem Reap. We were prepared for a bit of hassle going through immigration as the names on one of our visas was reversed (note to self, check the visas before leaving home), but without barely looking up, the officer waives us through and we are on our way in near record time.

As we are arriving after dark, there isn’t much left to accomplish for today other than checking into our hotel and hunting down something to eat. Since Siem Reap is a big tourist destination, it is the once city in Cambodia where the brands my fellow traveler so enjoys have a presence. For the next 5 nights we’ll be setting up shop at the Hyatt, which we’re told has the perfect location in the city.

Just a few blocks down the road, we do run into the infamous Pub Street. We have arrived in Siem Reap at the beginning of the Water Festival (celebrating the end of the wet season), and it is a heaving mass of humanity. With the loud music and neon lights it feels like Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras, but without the perks a handful of cheap beads gets you. There are also plenty of street carts, from which we cobble together a meal of pork buns, fried noodles and banana pancakes.

Given the long flight and the time change, that’s about all we have in us for today, so back to the hotel for a real night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.

If there was ever a time we probably shouldn’t be leaving on a 3-week vacation, this is probably it. Staff is a little light at the office, my business school 20-year reunion is the weekend before we leave, and college applications season is in full swing. So of course we’re on a plane now, part way across the Pacific, winging our way towards Hong Kong and keeping our fingers crossed that we can keep the wheels on the bus from halfway around the world.

The next 24 hours will take us from San Francisco, through Hong Kong, Bangkok, and finally into Siem Reap. While we have seen a great deal of Southeast Asia over the years, Cambodia has so far eluded us. The main driver of course is a visit to Angkor Wat, so that area will be our home base for the next five or six days. From there, our plan is to move south to Phnom Penh, and then on to the coast, where we hope to slow down and recharge our batteries.

For better or for worse (better probably, but it doesn’t feel like it at the moment), we’re on the inaugural flight for a brand new plane equipped with global wi-fi. The free cupcakes and tchotchkes at the gate were a pleasant surprise, but now I feel obligated to try and get some work done instead of trying to sleep or binge watching movies. With any luck, the next leg will be old school disconnected.

What a difference one night can make. While the Roberts’ got their sleep on, winter arrived in Reykjavik. Not just regular winter either. No, this is full on, day after a blizzard, where did I leave my car kind of winter.

The sun is out and it is a beautiful day, but that early afternoon flight isn’t looking so promising. To no surprise, as we are heading out to breakfast we get the email from Icelandair that we’re not going anywhere until this evening.

With some time to kill, we head outside into a winter wonderland. Everything is covered with a think blanket of snow, people are walking down the middle of streets devoid of vehicles, and everywhere kids are playing. The best part is, we don’t actually live here and we don’t have to shovel one bit.

As we’ve been given the gift of an extra day, it only seems right to spend it seeing something truly special. That’s right, we’re going to The Icelandic Phallological Museum. The “the world’s largest display of penises and penile parts” is a bucket list item if there ever was one, and just how lucky are the boys to be able to cross it off their list before they are even out of high school.

Where else can you see a first edition super hero comic?

Or take a call on the penis phone?

It’s pretty much all I can do to get the most studious of group through all the exhibits and into the gift shop.

They boys don’t have enough money for the good stuff, but we do find a store nearby with a wide selection of touristy knick knacks – the kind that make their way into a junk drawer within a month of returning home.

From here, there’s nowhere to go but down, and with our time running out, we start making our way to the airport. On the way, we stop in at Viking World, a small museum dedicated to the early settlers of Iceland. The big attraction is a full-size replica of a Viking ship that was discovered in Norway in the late 1800s.

After turning in the rental car, there’s nothing left to do but wait for the long flight back home. We’ve had an unforgettable time in Iceland and bring back nothing but great memories (except for the tragic loss of fun).

Following yesterday’s “adventure”, there is some support for just taking it easy today. However, we’ve seen Reykjavik already, and as this is our last full day here, it seems like a waste to not make the most of it. So, after what is easily the best breakfast we’ve had since we got here, we’re heading north to the Snæfellsnes Peninsula.

For Jules Verne fans, Snæfellsnes Peninsula is the home of Snæfellsjökull, the volcano that is the entry point for the Journey to the Center of the Earth. There is a tour there through some lava tubes, including Vatnshellir Cave, an 8,000-year-old lava tube that reaches 35 meters below the surface of the earth. This has caught the boys’ attention, so will be our primary destinations.

Along the way, we stop in the quaint little town of Borgarnes, to visit a small museum the details the history of how Iceland was settled. In addition, there is an exhibit that depicts one of the famous Icelandic tales, Egil’s saga. It’s all interesting, but much to my surprise, Joey likes it so much that he wants to buy the book. Never, in a million years, would I have expected a 13-year old boy to seriously consider spending his own money on this 782 page tome.

Books here are crazy expensive ($40 for this one, even though we can see the “U.S. $19.99” price through the sticker), so we figure it’s best to just order it when we get home.

Our stop in Borgarnes took a bit longer than expected so, back on the road we’re in a bit of a race to get to the lava tubes before they close. The last tour is at 2pm, and according to Google, we’ll arrive at 2:05. We call ahead to confirm they’ll still let us join, and with a little Jimmy Neutron driving we hope to shave a few minutes off. Of course the snow picks now to start falling…

We do make it just it time, and rushing with our helmets and flashlights, we catch up to our guide just as people are heading down into the darkness.

By the time we make it to the second level, the only lights are those we have brought with us. When we all turn them off, it couldn’t possibly be any blacker. The tunnels here are much larger than we walked through in the Galapagos Islands, but given the circumstances, there aren’t a whole lot of opportunities for pictures. That’s a bit of good news, as it turns out being trapped underground makes people look a whole lot crazier than they do on the surface (with the possible exception of Joey…).

A short drive from the caves are the Lóndrangar basalt cliffs, a pair of volcanic lava pinnacles that stick out from the sea on the coastline. It’s cold and windy (so at least one of us is a little unhappy), but the short hike to the viewpoint is definitely worth it. We have the place to ourselves so are able to relax a little take it all in – watching the waves crash against the rocks and the birds floating effortlessly in the updrafts.

Fun (or slightly loco, depending on your perspective) fact, according to our guidebook, farmers here believe the land around the basalt cliffs belongs to the elves that live on it. I checked the bottom of my shoes before getting back in the car and they looked pretty clean, so I guess they don’t like the cold either.

Having missed the glaciers at Skaftafell, it seems only logical to take advantage of the better weather here to see the glacier at Snæfellsjökull. The road looks clear and my hearty navigator is in full support of our mission to explore one of the most famous sites in Iceland.

Of course, that’s about as believable as the elves. Instead, after Mom teaching the boys a few new words, we’ve turned the car around and are headed back to Reykjavik.

With just one night left, we have decided to bite the bullet and stay in the heart of the city so that we can walk through it one last time. It turns out to be nice enough (if it’s good enough for Yeezy surely it is good enough for the Roberts’), but definitely not our style. Parking is a huge hassle and the rooms are not much bigger than the Sugar Shack. On a price per square foot basis, I feel violated.

It is a wonderful evening though, just below freezing and snow lightly falling. We find a spot to try a few Icelandic specialities (although not the really weird ones), and a small market to pick up a few things for breakfast in the morning. With a mid-afternoon departure, we have little time tomorrow to see one or two more things if the mood strikes us, but at the moment, the crew looks pretty tired, meaning our adventure may be at its end.

The goal is pretty simple this morning – get the heck out of Dodge. We’re confirmed our tour has been cancelled so rather than risk getting stuck here in Skaftafell for who knows how long, we’re making a run for it. The sun is not quite up yet and the snow has already started falling, so my safe driving consultant is on full alert mere minutes after we turn onto the highway.

There aren’t a whole lot of cars on the road, and most of the ones that are seem to be full of old ladies from Tampa, cruise control set at a blistering 25 miles per hour because they have never seen snow. On a different day, being in a parade might be nice, but not wanting a 4 hour drive to turn into 10, we need to make a move. The safe driving system is going off loudly in the passenger seat, but despite its projections for certain death, we manage to make it by safely. From that point on, the boys and I channel Jimmy Neutron, calling out “Gotta blast!” each time we need pass a car. It drives Mom absolutely crazy which, because we’re boys, only fuels the fire.

As we get closer to Vík, conditions start to get noticeably better. The snow has stopped and there is a distinctly different feel as the tires start touching asphalt. The wind is picking up though, and we know our window is going to be limited, so power ahead, making pretty good time all the way back through Hella to the town of Selfoss (one of the largest outside of Reykjavik).

On a normal day, it’s a quick 40 minutes to the capital on heavily traveled roads, so at this stage we figure we’re home free. That is, until we get 10 miles or so further down the road and see police cars blocking the highway. The route to the airport is still open though, and while it will take about twice as long, we can connect there with a major road into the city and still arrive in time to do something with the afternoon.

That plan goes south about halfway to the airport, as by that time the storm has arrived. Every road into Reykjavik is now closed. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a major city being entirely cutoff so this definitely something new. Our only option is to hole up in a small town called Grindavík and wait for the winds to die down. There is some novelty for the boys just trying to walk outside without getting blown around, but even that doesn’t keep them busy for long.

Finally, around 4pm we’re able to get back on the road. By the time we pull into the hotel parking lot, we’ve ben traveling for 10 hours and are more than ready to just zone out for the rest of the evening. My trusty travel companion has deemed this the most stressful day ever, and since we say experiences and memories are more valuable than things, that must be a good thing, right?

Unfortunately, no pictures of today’s events as our official photographer spent the entire day with one hand on the dashboard and the other on the grab handle above her window.

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.

After such an exciting evening we’re a little slower to get up and out of the cabin this morning. Today we’re headed up to Stöng, to see the ruins of an old Viking settlement. It is a bit of a drive, but like everywhere we’ve been since leaving Reykjavik, the roads are almost empty and the scenery is amazing.

One thing we see pretty regularly are groups of Icelandic horses, often gathering right near fences that run along the highway. They’re a funny looking breed, with stubby legs that keep them far closer to the ground than horses we are used to. They seem very friendly though, and since we’re in no rush today, stop for a few pictures.

Google Maps once again does us wrong, directing us right past the turn off to Stöng and further up into the mountains. Fortunately, we only get about ten miles down the road before we realize the mistake, and the turnout gives us a great chance for some more photos. I’m sure we’ll have hundreds of pictures of snow-covered mountains by the time this trip is over, but it seems like every time we turn a corner it just gets better and better.

Resetting our maps, Google finds us a shortcut back to Stöng. The road is a little rougher, but we rented a 4×4 for occasions just like this. Mom isn’t super-excited and wants to turn around, but the boys (and their driver) are having a blast and convince her to press on. That is until she sees this sign pass by the window:

Ófært (pronounced “oh fart” as far as I can tell) sounds like the sanitized version of my navigator’s comments, and there’s no way she’s going down this road now. Despite some pleading and cajoling, nothing we say changes her mind. Finally, we agree to turn back (had we not, I swear she was prepared to lay down in front of the car to ensure we went no further), but not before letter her know she’s killing our fun 🙁

Retracing our route to the original turnoff for Stöng, we’re once again faced with warning signs. Fortunately, we’ve seen a car traveling on this road and use that to convince Mom the road can’t be that bad. Whether it ultimately was or wasn’t depends on who is telling the story, but I still blush thinking about some of the words that came out of her mouth.

Stöng is the site of one of Iceland’s earliest archeological excavations, where a Viking long house and several outbuildings were preserved under ash from a nearby volcano. It is pretty much deserted in the winter, but the buildings are unlocked and there is a guestbook inside the door so we figure it is OK to wander through.

Near Stöng is one of the main hydroelectric power plants, which offers tours to show how the process works. Or at least they normally do. According to the sign, there is some upgrading underway so no tours until late 2017. No need to worry though, as right next to the plant is a full-scale reconstruction of the settlement at Stöng. That sounds kind of interesting so we decide to check it out instead. That is until we get there and find it locked up tight. Apparently in Iceland, priceless 1,000 year old ruins are a free for all, but relatively new replicas need to be kept under lock and key. Nevertheless, sod houses are a bit of a rarity in Redmond, so it’s cool to just walk around it and see how they were built.

At this point we have nothing else on the agenda, and as we are heading back towards our cabin spot a side road with a sign that indicates some sort of historical sight. It is not in our guide book so we have no idea what it is we are supposed be looking for, but we eventually find a small parking area and a trail heading to the top of a small hill. Figuring it must be the spot, the boys and I head on up. Arriving at the top, we’re still no wiser as to the significance of this place but, once again, the views call for a photo session.

While Sam and I are taking pictures, Nick figures it would be a good idea to make his way to the tip of a small finger of rock. He’s halfway out by the time I turn around and see him, so all I can is watch and hope he knows what he’s doing (the last thing I want to do is startle him and have him lose his balance). The photo turned out pretty good…

…but like sausage, you don’t really want to see how it was made.

By the time we get close to the cabin it is still early afternoon, so rather than waste time sitting inside, we opt to head a little east of Hella, figuring we can see a few things in that direction and get them off our list.

If there is one thing that we’ve come to appreciate in Iceland so far, it’s that the weather is nice right up until it’s not (and vice versa). So far the day hasn’t been sunny, but the temperature is mild and the wind calm. Or at least that is the case until we’re 15 miles or so down the road and in the middle of a snowstorm. In any other place we might see this as a sign to turn around, but 10 minutes later it’s like nothing ever happened.

Seljalandsfoss is another famous waterfalls, and with a walking trail carved around the backside is a must see for us. As we get closer, the wind starts to pick up and the cold spray hitting your face feels like a hundred tiny needles. By the time we see the shrubs on either side of the path heavy with a thick coating of ice, my trusty travel partner has had enough. Boys are dumb though, and not only do they press on, but for the low, low price of $5, agree to stand on a rock underneath the falls for my entertainment.

With a back seat full of cold, soggy teenagers, there’s little left for us to do but head home for the day. Tomorrow we’re back on the move, heading east for Kálfafell, where we have a date with glacier.