6/11/17, “Journey to the Center
of the Earth”
At anchor, M/V Olduljon, Atlantic
Ocean (Surtsey)
When I said that I would visit
every World Heritage Site in North America, it did not seem a realistic goal,
not by any stretch of the imagination.
Heck, one of the countries in North America was all but off limits to
Americans, had no tourist infrastructure, and had 9 WHS. Other countries were equally challenging to
plan a proper trip, especially Haiti.
Was I really going to go deep into the heart of Honduras to visit every
WHS there? Was I really going to
systematically visit each and every WHS in Mexico, all 30+ of them? The answer was a resounding yes.
Those were the easy ones. Then there were the ones that were off the
grid and could only be visited by a charter flight or boat, such as this
one. It was no easy task, and I am now
five away. I have visited over a hundred
WHS in North America, and all that remain is the one in Greenland, which I will
visit later this trip, and the four in the Canadian province of Newfoundland
and Labrador, which I will visit in a few weeks. Sitting here, in view of Surtsey, I am proud
of the effort I have put in towards accomplishing this nigh on impossible goal.
This one required some last minute scrambling
and chartering a private boat for a few hours, but it worked out in the end,
and here I am. It is one of the most
hauntingly beautiful sights I have ever seen, this volcano that is younger than
my parents and has been protected since its birth. For that reason, I cannot set foot on the
island, but, like with Isla Socorro, this is more than good enough. I would not get this view from atop the
island. I literally have this boat to
myself, just the two crewmembers watching over me as I write this entry. It is marvelous. I would reflect more, but I am paying by the
hour, and I want to make sure I finish this entry by the time I am done with my
cigar.
After I closed last night, I
published my entry and headed to my hotel to post my photos, lighting up a Man
O’ War. It was around 1 AM by the time I
finished posting my photos, and it was still light out, and loud. That was solar midnight, and, by 2 AM, it had
become much brighter. I was tired, but I
knew I couldn’t sleep. Around 2:30 AM, I
had finished my cigar and tried to go to bed.
I was about to fall asleep when I was woken up by notifications on my
phone. I tried again and sat up with a
sudden start right before 3 AM.
It was
almost sunrise, so I headed back out to see if I could watch the sun rise over
the harbor. I was glad I did. I was in shock as I walked down the main
street. It was 3 AM, bright as day, and
the streets were as crowded and loud as any city on New Year’s Eve. This was a white night to be sure.
I found the harbor, but mountains blocked the
view, though it just made it more dramatic, as I saw the beams of sun peaking
up above the mountain. I was not
alone. I had lit up a Oliva for the occasion,
and, after I had enough, I headed back to my hotel. It was 4 AM by the time I got to sleep, and
my alarm was set for 8:30 AM, so I got three REM cycles, but it was not
enough.
I went back so sleep and woke up
a little after 9 AM, which precluded a proper breakfast. I was little peckish, so I hurried to get
ready and headed to the hotel restaurant for a light breakfast. It was perfect. I had four pieces of rye bread, each covered
with smoked salmon and different type of cheese, skyr, and coffee.
After breakfast, I got on the road, lighting
up my Davidoff Escurio Toro and listening to “Red” as soon as I got on the
highway. It was a scenic drive, and I
had finished my cigar just as I turned off the highway to the ferry
terminal. When I got to the terminal, it
was a simple process, but I realized that I had made a tactical error. The place I where I would get my boat to
Surtsey was right next to the ferry terminal at Vestmannaeyjar, so I should
have just parked my car at the ferry terminal on the mainland and paid for a
passenger ticket, which would have been much cheaper than the vehicle
ticket.
We soon boarded, and I was able
to see the iconic volcano of Eyjafjallajokull (try saying that five times fast)
from the ferry. I lit up an Aging Room for
the ferry, and I couldn’t even finish it, the ride was so quick. When I got off, I literally parked at the
ferry terminal and walked to the boat place, called Ribsafari.
When I got there, she recognized be my name
and told me that she had an idea. Uh
oh. When someone has an “idea,” it’s
usually not a good sign. She started talking
about the other things I could see besides Surtsey, but I said I just wanted to
see Surtsey, spend an hour there, and turn around. Well, it turns out, she was trying to save me
some money. She had put me down for a
three-hour tour of various islands, but what I described would only take two
hours, so she lowered the price for me.
I paid her, in cash, with large American banknotes, a lot of them. I wondered what she thought, me in my cargo
pants and t-shirt, paying so much money to see one island. If she was curious, neither she nor any of
the crew members I soon met showed any sign of it. I soon suited up, and we were on our
way. It was very similar to the boat I
took to SGang Gwaay last month, maybe the same boat. It was just me and two crew members. I sat in the same spot I sat next to James on
the way to SGang Gwaay.
Before long, I
saw the island, and I could smell the brimstone. This was a fresh volcano, and it showed. Erosion had not yet taken its toll on the
island. We looked at my inscription
picture together and figured out where it was.
We would have to loop around, which was perfect, since it meant the sun
would be in front of me when I took my ceremonial picture.
We moored (is that the right word?) at the
appropriate spot, and I lit up my Hoyo de Monterrey and took my ceremonial
picture. I had done it. “Iceland Complete.” I then sat down in the middle of the boat, in
view of the island, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close
so that we can head back.
It is 11 PM. Reader, see that yellow dot in the center of
this establishing shot? That’s the sun,
still relatively high in the sky. It will
set over the mountains behind the harbor around the same time I finish this
entry, and then the sun will have set on my time in Iceland. The locals certainly have adapted to these
long days, and there are no shortage of people on the streets at 11 PM on a
Sunday. I have come to love this island
of fire far more than I anticipated, the appetizer serving its purpose well,
but tomorrow will bring me to Greenland.
That promises to be even far more beautiful.
Iceland looks not much different from the
rest of Scandinavia. I will not hesitate
to call it the fairest of the fair, though I look forward to a proper
Fennoscandia trip in my 30s, rather than just the taste I have thus far
experienced in the capitals. Until I
have visited Svalbard and Lapland, it would not be fair to call Iceland the
fairest of the fair.
Greenland, though,
promises to be something else entirely.
The European influences will be muted, replaced by the Inuit influences
I so love in Canada. The nominated WHS
that I will visit in a few days is a farming landscape that represents the duel
influences of Norse and Inuit culture.
That will something truly special, as will Nuuk, the capital serving as
my first stop. I will have much and more to
say about Greenland tomorrow, but, for now, I should recount what occurred
since I closed at Surtsey. First, a
minor point of correction. It was a
Jericho Hill, not an Aging Room that I had on the ferry to Vestmannaeyjar.
After I closed, I finished my cigar, and they
told me I had half an hour of time left before we had to head back. I didn’t need that full half-hour, but I did
want to take picture of the other side of the island, and we did that. At this point, I was starting to feel
nauseated, the swaying motion while I was engrossed in writing my entry leading
to sea sickness. I closed my eyes for
most of the ride back, and I felt better once I was back on dry land.
I unsuited and asked what to do for
lunch. It was 4 PM, and the restaurant
next door, which served whale meat, would not serve until 5 PM. I wanted meat soup, a traditional Icelandic
dish, and they told me where to find it.
It was a short walk. It was
self-service. You pay an outrageously
high price at the counter (whatever number you’re thinking, double it at least,
maybe triple it), and get soup, bread, and coffee. It hit the spot. After lunch, I lit up an Aroma de Cuba and
walked to the museum, where they had a Surtsey exhibit.
The museum was called “Pompeii of the North,”
since it was built around a house that was buried in a volcanic eruption. That was fun to see, but I just cared about
the Surtsey exhibit. They had the Plaque
there, which alone was worth the outrageous admission fee (again, double or
triple whatever you’re thinking) for a museum that would be very difficult to
spend a full hour seeing. I got some
souvenirs, retrieved my cigar, and walked back to the port.
Yes, I never used my car on the island. I should have just gotten the passenger
ticket. The ferry was coming in as I got
back, but it wouldn’t leave for an hour, so I worked on finishing my
cigar. About half an hour before
departure time, I moved my car to the loading area, and they soon came to get
our tickets. I showed her my ticket on
my phone, and she said something that I sounded like, “You have to print it out
before you get aboard.” I showed her my
print-out, and then she said, “Your cigarette, you must put it out before you
board.” The word “put” sounded like
“print” with her thick accent. I should
note that their system works almost entirely on trust. They do not scan or collect the tickets, and
three different drivers could have easily used three copies of the same
ticket.
I ditched my cigar and drove
aboard. When I got aboard, I heard David
Schwimmer’s familiar choppy voice. They
had a TV room, and “Friends” was playing.
I got some chocolate and soda and went to the TV room. This was the one of the early seasons, back
it was great, rather than just merely good, before it lost the magic. The humor did not translate well to Icelandic
(culturally, I mean, as it was subtitled in Icelandic), though a few jokes
about Joseph Stalin caught some laughs.
I enjoyed it and didn’t want the ride to end, but I wanted to get back
to town before my preferred restaurant closed.
It was an easy drive back to Reykjavik, a Prensado lasting me my entire
time on the highway, and I got back a little after 9 PM. I found a parking lot with an empty space
right by hotel and the restaurant, so I walked straight to the restaurant. They told me it would be 20 minutes for a
table, so I went around the block to my hotel to drop off some stuff and upload
some photos to the cloud. I then got a
Sunday paper, not forgetting this time, and was back at the restaurant just in
time for them to seat me. The restaurant
was called Messinn. It was the #1
top-rated restaurant on TripAdvisor, and they only served seafood. I have eaten a lot of seafood this trip. I opted for the saltfish mousse appetizer,
pan-fried plaice main course, and schnapps to drink. The schnapps was an Iclelandic birch schnapps
called Birgin Snaps. It was surprisingly
good.
First they brought thick
multi-grain bread with a rich, cream dairy spread, probably skyr-based. It was very good. Then came the saltfish mousse, which was
served on rye bread. That was even
better. The best part was the main
course, though. When I said it was
pan-fried, I meant it, and they served it still in the pan. I had never eaten plaice before, so I did not
know what I was missing. It is a white
fish, but it was so good.
I got an
espresso and then walked towards the harbor, stopping for a waffle, topped with
blueberry jam and whipped cream. I ate
the waffle as I walked, and it was better than anything I would have gotten at
the restaurant. As I walked towards the
harbor, I saw the sun in the sky, but it was not in the same spot that it rose
this morning, 20 hours earlier. Of
course, I had failed to calculated that the sun would be north by northwest at
sunset, instead of north by northeast at sunrise.
There was a park with benches at the top of
hill, with a perfect view of the setting sun in the harbor, which has now about
to disappear between the mountains, as predicted. I sat down on a bench, where I lit up an
Ardor and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can
finish watching the last of the sun dip behind the mountains and head back to
my hotel to publish and get some sleep before I have to wake up for my flight
to Nuuk tomorrow. Actually, it seems
that the sun disappeared as I wrote that last sentence.
No comments:
Post a Comment