We came to Isafjordur from Varmahlid.
We passed through a long mountain valley getting to Blondous on Highway 1; then we ran along the water for a bit. We stopped and filled the car with gasoline in Hvammstangi on the Midfjordur. After that, a blur of fjordurs - Hrutafjordur, Bitrufjordur, Kollafjordur, and Steingrimsfjordur along the way to Holmavik, then Highway 61 through the mountains along Mjoifjordur, Skotufjordur, Hestfjordur, Seydisfjordur, Alftafjordur, and then finally, thankfully, Skutulsfjordur. It's down along one side of the fjord, up along the other; down the length of the fjord, and up; down the mountainside, and up; down from morning and up into early afternoon and down into later afternoon and on into Isafjordur.
How much of this end-of-the-road business did we have? Enough that Tom said: "You know, Mary, when we were setting up this itinerary I declined when Erica asked if I wanted her to book us onto the ferry out of Isafjordur. Maybe when we get to the hotel we can check and see if there is still space available for us on the ferry tomorrow. I'm not sure that I want to drive back out the way we came in."
"You've had enough of this end-of-the-road experience?" Mary asked. "You mean you've had enough?"
When we arrived at our hotel, there was a sign at the check-in desk that reception was staffing the restaurant and we should ask for assistance at the restaurant; yet the restaurant was full of people young and old for a family reunion or some such function, and we could hear someone holding forth at the front of the group making a long-winded oration. So rather than interrupt the proceedings, Mary and I decided to walk about town, which is what we did for an hour. Downtown Isafjordur where were staying is nicely compact with that old-city Quebec feel to it again. We walked the streets and soaked in the beauty, both man-made and natural. What a lovely setting! At one point I looked off at an isolated residence in the distance, at the edge of town:
How small the house -
How large the mountain.
Our hotel is 3-star, more than adequate for us, as we are 1-star travelers as a rule, being poor as a poet's family will be and tight with our money. Finally we got registered and then tried to decide what to do for supper. Nearby there was a pizza place with beer and sandwiches; there was a small Thai restaurant a little farther away; and there was the hotel restaurant, which wouldn't open for another hour and a half.
To be continued....
Comments