Sept. 27-28

Hm, things are so much less exciting when you are paying for a room. On the 27th, woke up, chatted with some people at the hostel over breakfast, did some reading, and asked the woman at the front desk where I could acquire some propane. She went in back, returned with a full cannister that someone had left. Free? Fantastic. Headed to the library. Only the university library open on Sunday. Went there, tried to pay for a couple hours of internet, their system was messed up, but they referred me to a couple of computers that have free access for 15 minutes at a time. So spent a while writing emails, looking for possible places to stay or work, and waiting for the computer to automatically restart every 15. Rode around town, resupplied, ate dinner, and fell asleep really early.
Woke up next morning, showered, packed up my stuff, headed to the library for more clerical duties. Got an email back from the people I contacted about volunteering at a music festival called Iceland Airwaves. Said that all spots were full, but they'd see what they could do. A beautiful cloudless, windless day, so I made sure to roam around aimlessly for a while. Gave the music festival people a call, and scheduled an interview downtown. Through an organization called Worldwide Friends, and they organize work camps all around; Iceland Airwaves was just one of the events they participated in. Met with the organizers, Toti and Iris, and after knowing my age, name, and experience with Habitat for Humanity, told me I had a spot and that I could grab a bed upstairs. This seems too easy... Cult? Nah, they just recognize great talent when they see it. Met some people in the house that had just finished up working for the film festival, and were leaving in a day or so. People from Scottland, Serbia, Greece, Germany, Boston, and so on. All had a positive experience in volunteering. I find out my job is as one of the 4 volunteer leaders for the festival, with 33 total. This means free stay at the house. Well, some cleaning duties until the festival begins, but this great. Hang out at the house, which is right downtown, go and purchase myself a celebratory sketchbook and some pens. Go out to eat with a group of the people here. Have seafood on a skewer. We ordered cod, monkfish, scallop, and Mink whale. Whelp, the first three were delicious. Go on to the whale, and it tastes like steak from a cow thats been swimming around in the ocean, seasoned with a pinch of guilt. Its not endangered or anything, but whaling is such a taboo act that I can't help but feel like I am doing something inherently evil. It was pretty good, though.

Sept. 26, 2009

Wake up very well rested. Lay in bed a while longer just for the hell of it. Breakfast of cheese and crackers topped off with a little hazelnut spread. Have plenty of time before I need to be out, so I take another quick shower, revel in the warmth a while longer, pack up, and head out into the wind. Going to try to make it back to Reykjavik so I can use the internets...hopefully by getting someone to drive me through the tunnel. Stop by a few stores in search of a power adapter with no luck. Stop by a bakery and have some baked goods that provided far more sugar that I needed. Also had a coffee...I don't know why. Bakery girls give me an English magazine while I sip on my cafe au lait und hazelnoot. It almost seems proper. This behavior must end. Bid farewell to the bakery girls and head to the highway to stretch out my hitchin' thumb. This will be a difficult task with a bike. Hail storm greets me. Really freakin stings when a good-sized pellet catches the top of your ear, but I keep my hood down to look more presentable. You'll take my bike? Oh, but you are headed to Bourganes. Going to Reykjavik? No bike. Bourganes. I sense a trend. Two hail storms and a third one on the way, I decide to head back into town to regroup. I could really go for some coffe and some baked goods. Riding into ridiculous wind, I hobble back to the bakery, get my stupid coffee and a delicious roll with butter. One of the bakery girls inquires as to my origin. You spent a year in the states? Cool. In Pennsylvania? No shit, I'm from there. You were an exchange student at Nazareth High School? What the fuck. Small world. Small dreary town in Iceland. The one person I talk to there lived in the small dreary town next to me. Free coffee refill? Sigh, sure. Finish my lunch, and though I´d love to chit-chat, its time to work the highway again. I'm a loner, Icelandic bakery girl. A rebel. Finally, a worker in a flatbed truck pulls over. Not going all the way to Reykjavik, but at least through the tunnel? "Ya.". Take the ride, stop right before the tunnel. Damnit! Miscommunication, you's a bitch. He takes a left up some other road and I am left far from town and just as far from Reykjavik, for all intensive purposes. Thankfully, about 15 minutes later, a Jeep stops. Throw my bike in, and yes, he is going to Reykjavik. In between business calls, I learn that he owns a digital printing company. We talk politics, economy, and U.S. cities. A woman keeps calling the carphone seemingly displeased, and his responses are OK. Yep. OK. OK. Turns out, its his wife. Not too happy he's picked up a hitch hiker. He laughs it off, though. Drops me off at McDonald's in town, and I ride a short ways to the hostel. I offer to work in exchange for a room. Apologetically rejected. Get a room for 2 nights anyway, as I've some business to do here. Girl cuts me a deal, and I pay 2100 kr per night instead of 2600. Ride around searching for a power adapter. The place everyone refers me to is closed. Able to charge my ipod in the back of a computer at the hostel at least. Eat cheese and cracker dinner. Read up on the goings on downtown tonight. Decide to catch a film at the film festival, "Daytime Drinking", and then some bands at a bar. Film was pretty funny. Takes me far too long to find the bar, considering I parked my bike right next to it unknowingly and then searched around for the next half hour. Have a beer by my lonesome, then eventually make friends with a French girl doing the same. One band had one of those electromagnetic field creepy sound instruments. Pretty cool. The last band had Bjork's son as the bassist. They were decent, but did no compare to the band featuring the drummer in a gorilla suit. One of the French girl´s(Laure) friends joined us(Rodrigo from Sao Paolo). We were all travelling alone. Talked about politics, demographics, Brasilian, French, American cities. Exchanged info, and rode my bike in calm weather back to the hostel.

Sept. 25, 2009

Great day. Wake up after an hour or so of sleep to a golden sunrise over the mountains. Fuckin storm finally broke and I was able to pack my pack proper outside of the tent. Still weary and hungry, but screw it. This is travelling weather, so I need to take advantage of it while it lasts. Slow going up and down large hills. My legs don't have much push and my hands are cold, but just warm enough to not wear gloves. Can see sun-lit land toward the mouth of the fjörd, but being in the mountain shadow, still a ways from me. Finally cross a bridge and the road begins to head in the direction of Akranes. I see steam rising from the top of the next hill. Fuck yea! A broken geothermal pipe. Sweet, sweet heat. My hands burn in ecstasy. Fill my bowl with water from my bladder, and cook some Rice Sides in the steaming sulfur water. While I wait, I notice a rusted warehouse with a missing door. I read earlier that there is an abandoned U.S. army base from WWII around here. Look down the road and see a bunch of old barracks. How bout that. Venture into the warehouse while my meal cooks. It is heaven encapsulated in corrugated steel. Old rusted car parts, old rusted fishing equipment, old rusted monsterous oil equipment. I stand and stare, eyes sparkling. I run back to retrieve my bike and meal, and then sneak back in, being careful not to be seen by the few passing cars that might try to steal me from my new found treasure. After wolfing down my crappy Rice Sides, I spend the next hour or so exploring and examining the artifacts strewn about. Ford and GM crank shafts, gears, doors, tires from the '40's. Huge pipe wrenches and oil pipe heads coming from the ground. A huge cast-iron oil pump made in Wisconsin. And commercial fishing hooks and line. I cut off some hooks and line for myself. A random drawer containing books in Icelandic from the '50's. I sure am tired though. And a storm rolls in. Take some plywood, styrofoam, and an old leather car bench seat and make myself the most comfortable spot to lay upon since I got here. With the walls creaking and rattling from the storm, I pass out smiling. "OY!", is what I wake up to as I rip my head out of the mummy bag and see a guy in a full rubber suit staring at me from the doorway. Long story short, I explain my being here. He is happy that I am not the drunken, passed-out whaler he expected. He is headed to Akranes in 2 hours? He´ll give me and my bike a ride? What a magical warehouse. What an understanding oilworker. While I wait for him to get off work and return, I realize that I really have to shit. The old rusty oil drums in the back of the warehouse are just oo good to pass up. I stack a couple of tires at the base of one, undo the lid, and voila: a proper toilet. Put the lid back on, attatch the ringlock, and´I've left my mark for some poor curious soul to discover in a couple hundred years, or whenever they decide to tear that place down. Oil man returns as promised. Throw my bike and pack in the truck bed, help him load some boards, and off to Akranes. Nice guy. Chat a bit on the way. Drops me off at a pizza shop. I eat a pizza. Then wander around town in failing light and worsening weather. A small town. Nothing going on. Search for a place to stay. No hotels? Shit. Worse weather. Rumors of a guest house across town. Accidentally go to wrong end of town. Wind make bike riding very difficult. Finally find this place next to violent waves crashing on the adjacent rocks. Lower my head and walk to the gate. Locked. Hmm, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to set up tent in this weather. Here comes the rain. Fuck it, walk around to the back door. An old guy in his kitched spots me and meets me at the door. This is a gues house but...nobody here tonight. I get a whole floor with shower, kitchen and toilet for 5.000 kr. Its no crippled tent, but I guess this will have to do. The place is heated...interesting. The shower, hot....peculiar. The bed, soft and complete with pillow and comforter. I don´t trust it. I know its just waiting for me to lie down so it can devour me and my water-logged clothes. Oh well, half hour later I am drying off my hair witha towel and walking around shirtless in my mesh shorts. Dinner of cheese and crackers purchased in town, plus some hazelnut spread that was in one of the shelves. Sometimes things just work out.

Sept. 24, 2009

I guess this makes this a Thursday. Ok, it is late at night and I am beginning to think that this may not be the best tent site for a high-wind rain storm. Although a beautiful spot overlooking the fjörd below, I am now just wainting in the dark for one of the stakes to be uprooted and my rain fly to blow into the abyss, or my tent poles to snap. The amount of deflection in the walls is impressive to say the least. With nothing to do but wait, I´ve been coming up with a video game called "Humans With Jetpacks:the Game". More to be explained later. Well, its been a good day, all in all. Nice travelling weather. Left Esja, headed to Akranes to resupply of food and finally pick up some propane. Unfortunately the tunnel(holy shit, I thought that was it for the tent. heart racing, haha.) to Akranes which would have been about a 10 km ride is not open to bikes. Alternate route? 70 km around the fjörd. Great. Nothing against the scenic route, but I am rather low on food. 1 "meal" left. Scattered houses along the way. Very little traffic. The one store I ride 5 km out of the way to stop at only open on weekends. Argh. I saw a salmon jumping up a river which was cool. Stopped at two places that advertised shelter/food. Both ghost towns. Rode to my current position, tired and a bit hungry. Finished up the last of the müsli. 1 packet of Rice Sides left. No rainbows today. Suspicious... About 35 km to Akranes!
Well, made it through the night after the tent collapsed on me 3 times. Had to get out and repair the damage, each time returning to the bag soaked. One pole bent pretty well, but should still work. Spent a good portion of the night holding up the windward wall with my left hand while stretching to hold the bottom down with my heels. Almost no sleep needless to say. Stayed surprisingly warm though.

Sept. 23, 2009

Still at Esja. Raining and lazy, don´t know what time it is, but pretty sure I slept through most of the day. Nothing wrong with staying another night. Rain finally stops. Convince myself to get up. Thirsty, so I walk down to the stream, rinse my bowl, and then have my fill. Top off my water bladder and hope I don't get sick. Hop across the highway to the ocean, walk around the muck, keeping an eye out for mussels/clams. Find one of each, neither too sizeable, head back to the rocks before the incoming tide traps me. A true feast for dinner: 1 mussel, 1 clam(both raw), one packet of Rice Sides(cheddar+broccoli), all mixed together in ice-cold mountain water. Let it sit for an hour to soften the rice, then....cruch, cruch, slurp. Its not too often that I disgust myself, but here I am. Can't wait precious calories though. It will be a miracle if my insides don't explode.

Sept. 22, 2009

Bit of a chilly night, but woke up to a blue-tinted tent. Blue sky? Sweet. Get out of tent and there are still plenty of clouds, but the clear patches in between are a welcome sign. 10 am start. Plenty to do: get bike, find a route to Mt. Esja, hopefully climb it. First, grab a change of clothes and shower in the hostel. Dry off with paper towels. Sorry environment, I smelled like ass and didn´t have a towel. Headed to bike shop and look at that: the old girl is still there. In the end, not much haggling. Paid 15.000 for the bike and two tubes. Plus, got a free cup of coffee. I have wheels! And, it doesn´t ride too badly. Back at the tent, pack everything up and hit the road around 2 pm I think. Route 1 will get me to Esja, but it is very far from bike-friendly coming out of Reykjavik. With one of the free maps I picked up, I am able to meander along sidestreets generally parallel to route 1. Take one spill on the bike as I was coming up a gravel hill and it refused to downshift. My huge pack took the initiative and pulled me sideways off the bike. No worse for the wear. Beautiful streams and rivulets leading into the tidal flats along the way. I really want a fishing pole. Finally reaching the trailhead as Esja, its a bit late in the day. I am getting tired, so I set up camp near the base. The ground is very soft; encouraging for the night's sleep. With decidedly enough daylight, I head up the trail. A light rain rolls in with the sunshine and an amazing rainbow bridges the main stream going down the mountain. It almost doesn´t seem real. Legs aching, I continue up, and the Atlantic emerges over one of the hills. The sun behind clouds, its reflection still draws from horizon to shore. That way is home. Near the top, I lose the trail amongst the crags. A little unnerving, as I am forced to do a bit of rock climbing. I find the trail again, but am not sure which direction leads up. A kind bald man tells me to follow him. He flies up the mountain, taking huge vertical steps, and I can barely keep up. Luckily, its a relatively short sprint to the top. At 708 m, I have a view of all of Reykjavik, some distant ranges, and the sparkling Atlantic. I learned that the bald man once climbed this 7 times in one day to benefit cancer. Wasting little time, he bolted back down, leaving me to catch my breath and snap some pics. After a quick snack, the cold air and wind got to me, so I headed back to camp. After a müsli breakfast, I was on cheese and toasted bread withdrawl, so I ate the rest for dinner. Oh, and this ground is like sleeping on a slightly softer Tempur-Pedic mattress. And its warm. Lights out.

Sept. 21, 2009

Waking up to a cloudy morning, I keep convincing myself that it is earlier than it probably is. A night of crappy dreams has me in a sour mood. Rain is falling on the tent. The fight to get out of my bag seems futile against such odds. Then I remind myself that I'm in Iceland. Cheese and toasted bread for breakfast. Pack up the tent. The rain has stopped, and a rainbow again marks the start of the day. I have a 2L bottle of carbonated water that has no chance of fitting in my pack, yet I do not want to waste it. So I chug it before I head downtown. Running to a gas station every 10 minutes to piss, I make pretty good time. The tourist info center doesn't provide much help about how to find a used bicycle, but I am at least able to pick up some maps. Down to the library to use the internet. Get some things accomplished. Learn of a possible purveyor of used bikes. Stop outside the Leif Eriksson statue for a cheese and toasted bread lunch. Head to the Bonus supermarket("cheapest" prices in town). It takes forever to find. I come across a bike shop. "Any used bikes?" The guy laughs, walks in back, returns with an old Mongoose steel frame junker. Apparently someone just left it there about a year ago. Asking 15.000 kr!? That may be a deal here, I just don't know, but for something I´d expect to pay about 20 bucks for, I delay the purchase until tomorrow. I'll see if I can talk them down to 10.000. The suckers won't know what hit 'em. I finally find the damned Bonus store. I pick up a carton of something and ask the lady next to me if its milk. She laughs and points me to the real McCoy. I replace the treacherous imposter and also pick up some Müsli and a can of beans. Returning to the hostel, I do not feel like paying 1000 kr. just to set up camp on another patch of grass. I offer to do some work around the place in exchange for the use of patch of grass. They laugh, push the request up the chain of command and ultimately say no. 1000 kr. it is. Bastards... The Reykjavik International Film Festival is currently going on, and i see that Stingray Sam is playing tonight at 8:40. I missed seeing that in Bethlehem, so I figured I'd walk downtown and catch it. I set up camp, lay down sleeping bag, open my eyes, and the next thing I know it´s 9:20. Sorry Mr. McCabee, no offense, I think... Tomorrow, buy that bike and hopefully ride out to Mt. Esja.

Sept. 20, 2009

Hopping aboard the flight, sat next to a nice couple from Oslo. Long 5 hour flight, but had free entertainment. Watched Sigur Ros´ Heima, then slept on and off for the rest of the flight. No problems with customs arriving in Keflavik before dawn. 50 km to Reykjavik. Begin walking in the rain as light emerges. A large man in a shuttle bus stops and asks if I need a ride. I say no money. He says the shuttle is free to Reykjavik and looks at me like the idiot I am. Tells me everyone swims in Iceland. A lot. Great... Chilly day heightened by flickering rain. Walking the shoreline, a rainbow spans the harbor. After a few hours´ walk in the Park, I am pretty sleep-deprived, sore, hungry, wet, and chilly. I head to a hostel recommended by the shuttle bus driver, and pay 1000 kr. to camp outside for the night. I quickly fall asleep, and the next thing, it is dark out. Leaving my pack in the tent, I walk downtown. I navigate by street signs that i cannot pronounce/remember for more than 5 seconds. As it was during the day, the streets are empty. I seem to pass someone once every 5 minutes. Arriving on a Sunday gives me the impression that Reykjavik is a ghost town. Finally finding a store that is open, I purchase some cheese and toasted bread, and learn that it is 11:30 pm. I figure that's late enough and begin the hour-or-so walk back to the tent. Chowing down on the items, I lay down in my bag and am at ease. Hungry food is the best food. Most things are damp from the day, but i am plenty warm. I think this far too often, but thank the Badlands deity for synthetic fiber.