Showing posts with label Iceland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Iceland. Show all posts

Saturday 14 August 2021

Iceland (5): The Golden Circle, Gullfoss, Geysir and Þingvellir

An Awesome Waterfall, the Original Geyser and a Thousand-Year-Old Parliament

A Plan of Sorts

Iceland

After yesterdays’ drive from Kirkjubæjarklaustur along the south coast and then inland to the isolated Gulfoss hotel, our fourth full day in Iceland would start with a very short drive to the Gulfoss waterfall. From there it is only 10km to Geysir an area of thermal pools and spouting water that gave its name to the world for us to misspell and mispronounce.

Þingvellir is a further fifty kilometres across much gentler countryside than Iceland usually has to offer. In 930 the early settlers met in a green valley beside a wide blue lake to sort out their difference and decide how Iceland should be run. Annual meetings continued until 1798 and now take place on a more frequent basis in the Alþingishúsið in Reykjavík.Þingvellir became a national park in 1930 on the thousandth anniversary of the first meeting.

Gullfoss, Geysir and Þingvellir make up Iceland's 'Golden Circle', a reasonably easy circular day trip from Reykjavik

Today's journey is in green, starting from the Gulfoss Hotel and ending on the west coast at Borgarnes

From Þingvellir we drove almost back to Reykjavik then north along the coast to Borgarnes our base for the next two nights.

Gullfoss, an Awesome Waterfall

We checked the route on the phone before leaving the hotel. ‘3Km,’ it said, ‘4 minutes driving time. Gullfoss is currently closed.’ We did once visit a waterfall in Armenia that was specifically turned on for us, so if a waterfall can be turned on, it can be turned off. We went anyway.

We arrived to find the ‘retail opportunities’ were closed, but there were two cars in the extensive car park and no one on earth could close Gullfoss.

Gulfoss

I spent 1983-4 teaching in a High School in the USA. In the early 80s American teenagers required only four adjectives, everything they encountered could be described as cute, neat, gross or awesome. I am not claiming their British peers were any less linguistically challenged, but I was habituated to their expressions while the constant repetition of these four words soon came to grate on my ear. Ever since I have thought carefully before using any of them.

But, Gullfoss inspires awe, so that makes it awesome. The water does not fall a great distance, 32m in two steps is modest, and wider falls have greater rates of flow but the sheer energy of the white water seething across the iron-shaped step and cascading into the depths of the gorge below takes the breath away. The only appropriate response to the power of nature is awe.

Earlier we had walked from the car park along the lower path to roughly the same point as the couple in the photograph below. We had hoped to see the water dropping into the gorge, but what appears to be mist is actually a torrent of falling water so that was as far as we went.

Gullfoss and the Gorge beneath

In the first half of the 20th century Tómas Tómasson and Halldór Halldórsson who owned the waterfall attempted to promote its use to generate hydro-electricity. They were heroically opposed by Sigríður Tómasdóttir, who, as her name implies1, was Tómas Tómasson’s daughter. Eventually they sold the falls to the Icelandic state, and it is now protected.

Gullfoss, seething water on the 'step'

Geysir

Here comes a brief digression linking Gullfoss with our next visit and our previously mentioned American sojourn.

In 1984 we visited Yellowstone Park. It has magnificent waterfalls, geysers to spare, and any number of thermal pools, some spouting, some bubbling and some vividly coloured with dissolved salts. It was one of the most memorable visits of our final five-week road trip through the western states.

Geysir, Iceland

While watching a row of smaller pools, all bubbling quietly and one of them sending spurts of water arcing to left and right, we were approached by a park ranger. He volunteered some information, now long forgotten, but I remember him saying that the commonest question he was asked was if the geysers and pools could be used for anything. He hated this question and struggled to understand why some people could not enjoy these marvels for what they are, without wondering how they could be used or (in a word not then current) monetized.

Geysir, Iceland

He moved on to talk to other visitors. We passed him later as we left and heard a man asking ‘isn’t there some way to use all this energy?’

Geysir, Iceland

I stand with the ranger and Sigríður Tómasdóttir. Hydro-electricity and geothermal power are exploited throughout Iceland, they are clean and reliable sources of energy, but most Icelanders understand that some places must be left untouched, as do most Americans which is why Yellowstone is one of many National Parks. My only disagreement with the ranger is that I think such places are already useful. We humans need to be exposed to the wonders, power and indeed dangers of nature and we require reminding we own none of this, but hold it in trust for later generations.

From Gullfoss we drove the short distance to Geysir and I have seeded three pictures of the thermal springs at Geysir into the digression above. Although worth visiting, it is much smaller than Yellowstone, and neither as varied or as dramatic. On the plus side, it is 6,000km closer to home.

For the best part of a thousand years the only spouts of hot water known to Europeans were here, so geysir gave its name to the world. English and some other European languages have changed the ‘i’ to an ‘e’ and we have all adopted a pronunciation that suits us, GUY-zer in America (so Google tells me) GEE-zer in Britain whereas the Icelandic original sounds like gaysish with neither syllable stressed.

However you pronounce it, this place has the original Little Geyser (Litli Geysir)…

Litli Geysir

…and the original biggy.

The Geysir

Volcanic activity affects all geysers and recent changes have rendered these two largely inactive. However, just a few steps away, Strokkur can be relied upon to do its things every couple of minutes.

Geysir to Þingvellir

Iceland is, without doubt, a beautiful country, but it is a harsh and awesome (again! oh dear) beauty. Nature in Iceland is less about flora and fauna and more about the unfeeling majesty of geology and hydrology, and the power within the earth to transform the very land the people live on.

Geysir to Þingvellir

But the 50-minute drive west to Þingvellir took us through a gentler countryside bathed for an hour or two, in unaccustomed sunshine. That is what I thought at the time, looking at the photographs now, ‘gentler’ must be seen in context, these are not the lush valleys of rural Herefordshire.

Geysir to Þingvellir. A road curving into the distance is always an enticing sight

Þingvellir

The thorn (þ) is pronounced like the ‘th’ in thing and, armed with that information, Þingvellir is one of the few Icelandic words pronounced exactly as you might expect.

Some History

The recording of Iceland’s earliest history is remarkable. The oldest surviving copy of the Book of Settlements, (Landnámabók) is 13th century but it describes in detail the settlement of Iceland in the 9th and 10th centuries.

The book was started in 874 when the Norwegian chieftain Ingólfur Arnarson became Iceland’s first permanent inhabitant. Others followed and district assemblies were formed for settling local disputes. As the population grew, the descendants of Ingólfur became the most powerful clan and other chieftains felt an all-island assembly, an Alþingi, might help limit their powers.

Rallying support and finding a suitable venue was the task of Grímur Geitskör. He found an available piece of land, now known as Þingvellir (Assembly Field) immediately to the north of Iceland’s second largest lake, Þingvallavatn (Assembly Field Water).

Þingvallatan from the Þingvellir visitor centre

The site was chosen for its accessibility – even the most distant chieftain could reach here in 17 days. No-one knows if the lake’s beauty influenced this choice, but in sunshine it looks most appealing.

Þingvellir, has played a central role in the country’s history and the first Alþingi, in summer of 930 is considered as the founding of the Icelandic nation and cultural identity. The modern parliament sits in a building in Reykjavik not a field by a lake, but it is still called the Alþingi. Other Nordic languages have lost their ‘th’ sounds, so the Danish parliament is called the Folketing and the Norwegian the Storting2.

The Lögberg

A path descends from the visitor centre through a cleft in the rock wall into the valley north of the lake. I doubt that Grímur Geitskör had any idea that the spot he had chosen was in the rift valley formed by the European and North American continents slowly drifting apart.

Descending into the valley

The path continues beside the cliff marking the edge of the American continent…

Walking below the edge of America

… to the Lögberg (Law Rock). The Alþingi took place every summer and this was its focal point. Any attendee could present his case or raise an issue of concern at the Lögberg and it was here the rulings of the Law Council were communicated and important announcements made to the nation. The Lawspeaker, elected for a three-year term, presided over proceedings and in the early days, before the law was written, he would also recite the whole of Icelandic law.

The Lögberg, Þingvellir

Around the Lögberg are the remains of several booths, accommodation for leading chieftains during the Alþing. To the untrained eye they almost indistinguishable from all the other rocks. The less important watched proceeding from the ground below. Although the valley was 20m narrow then, and volcanic activity has moved the streams around, I doubt it was any less lovely than it is today. Europe starts roughly where the trees stand. Everything in between is Icelandic National Park, UNESCO World Heritage Site and No-Man’s Land.

The valley north of the lake, Þingvellir

Taking one of the paths across we looked back to the Lögberg. From here the natural rock platform looks an obvious choice for anyone reciting the law or giving out their judgements..

The Lögberg, Þingvellir

Þingvallakirkja (Þingvellir Church) and Prime Minister’s Residence

When Iceland accepted Christianity, about 1000 CE, Olaf the Stout, King of Norway sent wood to build a church and a bell for its tower. The current church, on the European side of the valley, dates from 1859, old for an Icelandic building despite their long history of settlement.

Þingvallakirkja (Þingvellir Church)

It is a tiny church serving a tiny population.

Inside Þingvallakirkja (Þingvellir Church)

Given the importance of Þingvellir, the Prime Minister must have a residence here, and a modest five-gabled farmhouse sits next to the church. Katrín Jakobsdóttir, the current incumbent, was not at home.

Prime Minister's Residence, Þingvellir

Þingvellir to Borgarnes

The 90km drive to Borgarnes took us almost back into Reykjavik to re-join Route 1 - Iceland’s ring road or Hringvegur.

We followed Route 1 north up the coast. In the past it made lengthy detours round two fjords, but the 6km long Hvalfjörður Tunnel (opened 1998) and the 500m Borgarfjarðarbrú (1981), the second longest bridge in Iceland, have shortened the journey considerably

Þingvellir to Borgarnes

Any route in Iceland will take you through scenic countryside – provided the visibility is good enough. Today we had the bonus of sunshine; south west Iceland sees 170 hours of sunshine in an average July, for comparison Birmingham manages 190+ while Faro in the climatically blessed Algarve enjoys 360.

Nearing Borgarnes

Borgarnes

Borganes, pronounced as an evenly stressed Bor-gar-ness lies at the end of the Borgarfjarðarbrú (Borgarnes Fjord Bridge). The town straggles along a small peninsula (or ‘ness’) and with almost 2,000 inhabitants feels unusually metropolitan by Icelandic standards.

Founded in the late 19th century, Borgarnes takes its name from Borg á Mýrum, the farm of Egil Skallagrimsson. He was reputedly a sorcerer, beserker, farmer and poet who lived hereabouts in the 10th century and wrote Egil’s Saga. The story covers 150 years of local history, most of it involving extremely violent family feuds.

Borgarnes

Despite a museum dedicated to Egil’s life and times, all now seems peaceful. We found the Borgarnes Hotel near the tip of the peninsula, checked in and took a stroll to look at the town and its restaurants.

The excellent view from our hotel window - provided you ignore the buildings

Historically construction material has been a problem for Icelanders, there are too few trees to provide wood, and volcanic rock does not make good building stone. Iceland was also poor, so architecture, such as it is, tended towards the functional.

Borgarnes - is it made from kits/

This remains largely true even after 50 years or more of affluence, but there are corners of Borgarnes were somebody appears to care how their buildings look.

Borgarnes - a little more effort here

Englendingavík Restaurant

Englendingavik (English Bay) Restaurant, even closer to the end of the peninsula than our hotel, clearly stood out among an otherwise uninspiring collection of fast-food joints.

Englendingavik Restaurant, Borgarnes

We arrived at the appropriate time and found ourselves joining a queue outside the door. On reaching the front, we were told to come back in 45 minutes when there might be a table ready – it was Saturday, but that is easy to miss when you are on holiday. We asked if there was somewhere we could sit and have a drink while we waited. After a moment’s hesitation they sent us up a set of wooden stairs to a sort of loft, part lounge, part storage for old furniture.

Waiting for a table, Englendingavik Restaurant, Borgarnes

Our being there concentrated their minds and within twenty minutes we were settled at a table. Icelandic menus usually list five or six main courses, selected from the ten or so dishes of the national repertoire. Lynne went for a lamb shank – Iceland produces its own lamb and it is always a good choice. I had noticed that more upmarket restaurants often had confit of duck leg on the menu and I thought I would see what they made of this French classic. The dish was heavier than it would have been beside the Dordogne (perhaps it’s the potatoes, they are proud of their potatoes), but that’s appropriate given the climate, otherwise they made a fine job of it and I enjoyed it very much.

1Because that's the way Icelandic names work. You have a given name, and that is the name you are listed under in the phone book, electoral register etc. As there are a limited number of given names, you add a patronymic so everybody knows which John you are. If John has a son Robert, he is Robert Johnson, if Robert Johnson has children called Mark and Sarah, they are Mark Robertson and Sara Robertsdaughter. There are no family names.
This system was once widely used, and still exists in parts of the Arabic speaking world and elsewhere. The Icelanders, though, do move with the times. You may now chose a matronymic instead of a patronymic, or if you want to be non-gender specific you can use -bud (child of) instead of son or daughter.

2These names are not confined to the Nordic countries. Tynwald, the Manx parliament, means ‘assembly field’ mixing the Norse ‘Þing’ and old English ‘weald’, the same derivation gives the town of Dingwall in Scotland. In Germany, too, the abandoned 'th' is often replaced with a 'd' and 'g' becomes 'k'. If the 'field' or 'weald' becomes the German 'lage' (pronounced like the beer) you get the town of Dinklage in Lower Saxony. Emigrate from there to the US, anglicise the pronunciation and one of your descendants will be the actor behind the most interesting character in Game of Thrones.


Friday 13 August 2021

Iceland (4): Vik, Skógafoss and Skógar

A Tiny Town, a Big Waterfall and a Folk Museum

A Plan for the Day

Iceland

We left the excellent Magma Hotel and the unpronounceable Kirkjubæjarklaustur and headed westwards, back towards Reykjavik on Route 1, Iceland’s Hringvegur (ring road).

We intended to follow this road, stopping at Vik and Skogar until we turned inland a little before Selfoss. We would then head north through less sparsely inhabited countryside though finishing the day at the isolated Gulfoss Hotel.

Today's Journey with the most important places ringed in a tasteful purple

Kirkjubæjarklaustur to Vik

Our journey to Vik was some 75km long and took an hour. Great speed is neither possible nor legal on the two-lane Hringvegur, but on the other hand there is little to hold you up, either.

Much of the journey was across lava fields, mostly old enough to be covered in grass. It is not beautiful, but the backdrop of the glacial icecap of Mýrdalsjökull makes it more interesting.

Lava field with a distant view of Mýrdalsjökull

Vik

Mýrdalshreppur

Vík í Mýrdal, to give it its full name, is the main population centre of Mýrdalshreppur, Iceland’s southernmost municipality. According to Wikipedia, the town has a population of 318, the metropolitan region 750. ‘Town’ and ‘metropolitan region’ are odd words to use for a tiny village at the heart of the large but sparsely populated municipality between Mýrdalsjökull and the sea.

Vik, sheltered by the Reynisfjall ridge and on a coast washed by the Gulf Stream, is the warmest place in Iceland. In January most days make it above freezing, and the average overnight low is above -2° - remarkably mild for this latitude. The effect is less marked in summer, when the average daily high is a less than balmy 13°C. Vik is also the wettest place in Iceland with an average rainfall of well over 2,000mm.

Vik is said to be the country’s only coastal village without a harbour. Photographs show the early 20th century settlement as a couple of rows of basic dwellings running up from a black sand beach on which fishing boats were parked. It does not look like that now, whether you look down the road….

Vik

…or turn to towards the supermarket and the Icewear Magasín, purveyors of ‘warm but affordable’ clothing (according to their website). The mini-mall also includes a bakery where we had our morning coffee, and a bistro.

Shopping Centre, Vik

We live in a village with twice Vik’s population. Our village shop/post office has closed since we visited Iceland, leaving a pub/restaurant (which has closed on and off  but currently seems secure) and a garage (repairs, no fuel). Google maps show Vik as having its mini-mall, a fuel station, 6 places to eat and drink - one with a bakery, another with its own microbrewery - 3 hotels, an outdoor swimming pool and a church.

Vik's church overlooks the town from a hilltop - not an uncommon situation in Iceland. An eruption of Katla, the volcano beneath the Mýrdalsjökull ice cap, is overdue and when it comes it will be accompanied by flash flooding. The hilltop church serves as a physical as well spiritual refuge and there are regular evacuation drills. Our village has two churches, one C of E, one Catholic, (the only facility we have in more abundance than Vik) but being in a seismically stable region neither has this double function.

Vik Church

Vik has an extra-ordinary range of facilities for such a tiny place, partly due to tourism, though on the cool summer’s morning we passed through it was hardly crowded (but what would it be like without Covid?), partly due to its isolation. Vik is the largest settlement for 70km in all directions so naturally this is where businesses settle. We, on the other hand, have a large village (5,000 people) and a small town (16,000) both within 7km.

Skógar

Rangárþing eystra

Skógar, some 30km west of Vik, is in the adjacent municipality of *Rangárþing eystra, which is larger but no less empty than Mýrdalshreppur. Entirely surrounded by the municipality is the glacial icecap of Eyjafjallajökull. Although one of Iceland’s smaller icecaps the 2010 eruption of the underlying volcano had a dire effect on air travel - and radio and television newsreaders - across much of Europe and North America.

Skógafoss

*Skógar, with a population of 25, is, believe or not, the second largest settlement in Rangárþing eystra. Like many settlements along this coast it sits in the shelter of the ancient sea cliffs, 5km from the present coast.

On the moors above, meltwater from Eyjafjallajökull and Mýrdalsjökull combine to form the *River Skógar and flow across the moorland in a series of waterfalls and through a small canyon. Eventually it works its way down to the bedrock and is rushing over this hard rock when it meets the cliff. The result is *Skógafoss, a waterfall 25m wide with a single drop of 60m.

From the car park you can walk up the side of the river, and if nobody overtakes you, and the people in front in the serious waterproofs walk back, you can find yourself briefly the nearest person to the base of the falls.

Skógafoss

It is possible to walk right up to the pool at the bottom, but it involves a drenching and I stopped at a point where my lightweight waterproof still offered reasonable protection. On a good day a rainbow, or if you are very lucky, a double rainbow forms in the spray. On this sullen summer’s day, there was no chance.

A path sets off to the right of the waterfall, the first steep climb helped by steps.

Nothing Lynne likes more than a long, steep flight of stairs, Skógafoss

From the top we had a view of the water starting its fall….

The top of Skógafoss

….and of the river setting out across the coastal plain – maybe we could have seen the sea, but for the mist.

The River Skógar sets off across the coastal Plain

Looking inland to the river bouncing through its deep channel across the moor we could see the path snaking into the distance. This is a major hiking trail, heading through the pass between Eyjafjallajökull and Mýrdalsjökull to the *Þórsmörk ridge where it joins other trails that lead deep into the Icelandic Highlands.

The River Skógar above the falls

Lunch at Skógar

No longer up to that sort of thing (if I ever was), we took the short walk to the Hotel Skógafoss in search of lunch. I am unused to paying £10+ for a bowl of soup but Icelandic meat soup sounded promising, and nothing is cheap in Iceland. What turned up was two tiny hip-baths of Irish stew, chunks of lamb and root vegetables in a brown broth. It was the perfect lunch for a winter’s day - or a cool one in summer.

Icelandic meat soup, Skógar

Drinks are expensive, too, but the Icelandic habit is to place a carafe of water on every table and very often that is all people drink. The climate means water comes chilled from the tap and everywhere it was fresh, clean and invigorating; it is rare that drinking water actually becomes a pleasure, but it is in Iceland.

Walking back to the car gave us a view of the waterfall that sets it into its local context.

A more distant view of Skógafoss

Skógar Museum - Interior

Skógar may be a tiny place, but it has a large regional museum.

The museum of local life was packed with interesting artefacts. Life was hard and Icelanders were poor, the economic miracle that made modern Iceland wealthy did not start until after the Second World War.

Here are a few of the exhibits that caught my eye.

When a man spent the day working in the fields or fishing on the sea, he took his lunch with him. Americans talk, or used to talk, about a working man having a ‘lunch pail’ but I don’t think it was ever a literal bucket. It was in Iceland, though a bucket with a lid.

Lunch boxes, Skógar Museum

Whale vertebrae were useful objects. Among other uses they can be stools or chopping blocks, or hollowed out to become storage vessels.

Useful whale vertebrae, Skógar Museum

The hardy little Icelandic ponies, now often seen taking strings of tourist for a day’s pony trekking, were once an important means of transport. Icelandic ladies, who generally had to roll up their sleeves and get on with it, still preferred to ride side-saddle and the museum has a collection of more or less elaborate saddles.

Side-saddles, Skógar Museum

North African Barbary Corsairs were a major problem in the western Mediterranean in the 17th and 18th centuries and were not finally put out of business until 1830. They raided ships and coastal communities stealing goods and carrying off people to be enslaved. At their peak they raided across a much larger region, including Ireland and in 1627 they reached Iceland raiding Grindavik near Reykjavik and the Westman Islands just off the coast near Skógar, killing 50 and carrying off 400. I can thoroughly recommend Sally Magnusson’s moving 2018 novel The Sealwoman’s Gift which follows the fate of a fictional pastor’s wife and her two children who were taken to Algiers. To find out what happened to them, read the book but some 50 of the real abductees eventually returned to Iceland, ransomed by the Danish government (Iceland was then ruled by Denmark). The museum has a piece of embroidery worked by one of those who returned.

Embroidery, Skógar Museum

Skógar Open Air Museum

The museum has a transport section, which we found less interesting, and an open-air museum.

Skógar mean forest. Trees are not 'a thing' in Iceland, but there are enough in the background of the pictures below to justify the village name (at least by local standards).

Nearest to the main building is the ‘turf farm’, not really one farm but a collection of turf roofed buildings brought from different places and originally constructed between 1830 and 1896. These are the traditional structures or rural Iceland

Turf Farm, Skógar Museum

The baðstofa - the living/sleeping accommodation – looks reasonably comfortable…

Inside the Turf Farm, Skógar Museum

…other sections look more basic.

Shed at the Turf Farm, Skógar Museum

Nearby is less turf-y shed….

Hydro-electric plant, Skógar Museum

…inside is a Hydro-electric generator built in 1921. The raw material for hydro-electricity is abundant in Iceland and isolated communities took to DIY generation with great enthusiasm. 

Hydro-electric plant, Skógar Museum

A group of four buildings a little further from the main building consist of:

1) Skógar Church.

The undistinguished modern building was consecrated in 1998 and is quite big enough to accommodate the village’s entire population.

Skógar Church

The interior fittings and windows came from disused churches and are 19th century. The ‘ecclesiastical goods’ are 17th and 18th century. The older of the two bells was cast around 1600.

Skógar Church Interior

The candelabra are 16th century and the altarpiece dates from 1768.

Altarpiece and Candelabara, Skógar Church

2) The Skál Farmhouse and Gröf Storehouse (both from the Snæfellsnes peninsula, western Iceland)

Gröf Storehouse with Skál farmhouse behind, Skógar Museum

The 1870 turf storehouse from Gröf sits next to a wooden farmhouse built in 1919/20 in Skál and inhabited until 1970.

Skál Farmhouse kitchen, Skógar Museum

The farmhouse living accommodation was built over the cowshed for warmth - and, of course, fragrance.

Skál Farmhouse Interior, Skógar Museum

3) The Litli-Havammur Schoolhouse

The one-room schoolhouse was moved from near Reykjavik in 1999/2000. The setting forced me to take up a once familiar pose.

Schoolroom, Skógar Museum

4) Holt Farmhouse

Holt Farmhouse, Skógar Museum

The centrepiece is a farmhouse from nearby Holt. The first wooden house in the district, it was constructed in 1878 entirely of driftwood. The wall panels in the west parlour are from the hospital ship St. Paul which ran aground 1899.

Holt Farmhouse panelled interior, Skógar Museum

The house was inhabited until 1974.and was moved to Skógar Museum in 1980.

Holt farmhouse upper floor, Skógar Museum

*Þórður Tómasson

The impressive museum is the life’s work of Þórður Tómasson. He started it in 1949 in the basement of a school, nurtured it as it grew and remained curator until his retirement in 2014 aged 92. He celebrated his 100th birthday in 2021. [Update: Sadly, he died on the 27th of January 2022].

To the Hotel Gulfoss

We left Skogar and, following our plan, continued along the ring road before turning north before Selfoss. Hitherto Iceland had been either Reykjavik or the ring road but we were now in the only part of the country where a network of roads links a scattering of villages. One of them, Fluðir, was even big enough to have a roundabout, at which we made the inevitable wrong turn.

By the time we reached our hotel we had left this thinnest haze of urban sprawl and were heading back into the wilderness. The Gulfoss was comfortable and pleasant inside, though outside it resembled a huge grey shed - this is the Icelandic way. There was little memorable about the restaurant except the prices – and this too is often the Icelandic way.

*All those asterisks: Odd spellings and strange letters

The Village and the river are spelled Skógar, the waterfall is Skógafoss. Where did the r go? The same place as the e in Exmouth.by the River Exe.

 

 

Icelandic retains two letters that English abandoned with the invention of printing.

The thorn (Þ, þ) is pronounced like the th in thick

The eth (Ð, ð) is like the th in there