It’s a wonder to me sometimes how I got to where I am. What turn of events would take me to a house overlooking the most awesome view of a fjord at the furthest end of the Island of Iceland?
It began when Siggi, a tall, red-ringlet, haired iceman picked me up at the Salvation Army Guesthouse three days ago and took me to the town of Mosfellsbaer to his home on Dvergholt (Dwarf Street).
We would leave the next day around noon to head up to Porshorn, far up north to the Jorvik Hotel he owns at the Arctic Circle. Actually, we left at 9 p.m. because Siggi had some complications that had to be settled before we left. Meanwhile, I sat inside his home reading, “Reykjavik 101” and got acquainted with the smoky-colored cat.
I enjoyed the view of snowy mountains from the windows, as well as listening to the soft purring of “Smokey”.
We left while it was still relatively light, driving on roads which both sides were covered with lava-pocked rocks, and bumpy hills of naturally growing wheat-grass. Siggi explained the lumps of wheat grass are formed when ice sits under the grass and then melts, leaving mounds in small hills.
One area heavily laden with lava rocks in such formations that led my mind to imagine they were carefully placed there, rock on rock on rock, by some giant artist who came out of the sky to create abstract art. Hey, that actually sounds like a Saga, those folk stories Icelanders have been telling for generations.
We arrived late after driving through rain and snow, at Gladheimar Cabins, where I fell fast asleep inside my knotty-pine room, under a comforter that had been stuffed into the car with everything else that would be needed at the Jorvik Hotel. l will be here for one month at least, and will no doubt fly back to Reykjavik at that time.
The cabin, a two-bedroom house, fully equipped kitchen, living room, awesome views of a river and mountains, ducks and geese, was made of knotty-pine walls and wooden floors, with leather couches, and is just one of many ‘cabins’ that awaits weary travelers.
The next day, the journey continued on through a varied terraine, including dark hills with ribbons of snow, reminding me of gingerbread sprinkled with powdered sugar.
Then, Siggi made a turn off the beaten track and I wondered if this was the turn I saw on the map that showed the route to Porshorn? My question was answered with a surprise.
The Godafoss waterfall!
See the photo of the waterfall, the cabin and the Icelandic horses we saw along the way.