Hveragerði

Next to Selfoss there is a town called Hveragerði, from Hver = hot spring in Icelandic.  It´s a magic nook between two mountains where runs a hot river and a cold river.  We followed the stream inland through steaming waterfalls and icy foot traps until it met the cold river and got in... bathed, and lapped it up like dogs. Like suckling sweet birch tea from nature´s  teat. 

Steaming river from the base of Hveragerði hills.

Heidi forging the river

Jana, Asja, Heidi und me. too many Germans. 

Hot Spring Horses

Geysir´s little brother.  

Did you know since the late 19th century they would pump geysirs full of soap to force eruptions? Lowers the surface temperature of the water. sketchy.

Gulfoss, one of Iceland´s highest waterfalls and the pride of the tourism industry.

And with that I was going to leave you a lazily taxidermied cat from the Geysir museum with a crooked eye but I seem to have lost him. 

In other news, it turns out our big plans for Icelandic Thanksgiving include the 'best whale meat in the world´ from a part time worker here who is also a whaler.  And home brewed beer.  And probably a bathtub of barley. 

Also, the farm began a boycott of US corn the other day as Eymundur declared the place GMO-free, officially.  Exciting news.  

Vallanes

The Plan— 438 km from Selfoss to Egilsstadir, two days, picking up cousin Erik in between and hitchhiking the whole way.

Update- We´ve made it to Vallanes in Egilsstadir (the farm). but hitchhiking the eastern portion took longer than expected leaving us stranded in lake Myvatn for a night, but under the wing of a weathered and spritely tour guide who brought us to his family farm nestled in a snowy corner of Middle-Earth-like Myvatn.  Turns out hitchhiking from Selfoss to Akureyri is an easy thing as the way is paved with small towns, warm strangers and lots of couples and fisherman and truckers and ice cream trucks and tour guides in highland monster Jeeps rolling along in between, whereas hitchhiking Akureyri to Egilsstadir is-



luckily a self-proclaimed master of crude Icelandic poetry picked us up the minute we stepped out the door and brought us the whole way to the front stoop of Modir Jord (Vallanes).

Internet here is sparse, so will be the updates.  Backlogged posts a-coming upon my return.

In the meantime, we´re living in a house with monsters painted on it and relishing nightly dinners from the garden and enough barley for life.  Also, this place is absolutely, impossibly beautiful.

Until then, meet the Icelandic Yule Lads. Like Santa Clause, only there´s 13 of them, the misbehaved sons of two ugly trolls, they steal, gorge, peep and slam doors.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yule_Lads

Although we´ve been told their manners have improved slightly over the last century. 

Norðurljósum

 So I was really excited about the lights we saw the first few days— http://heimalost.blogspot.com/2010/11/trying-to-limit-internet-time-but-for.html

turns out it gets better. 


But doubtfully better than this, Dora tells us she hasn't seen them this bright in a few years. lucky us, lucky us.

[click photos to enlarge]

At one point they took over the entire sky and rippled green to purple to red, it was something like a cosmic rainbow acid trip.

At some points they move fast enough it's hard to get a clear shot with a long exposure.

I almost evacuated a kidney right about here

Sadly out of focus, but the shapes are worth a posting

Hitched

480 kilometers and 5 hitched rides— we've made it from Reykjavik to Akureyri, second largest city in Iceland, and home to the northernmost Domino's Pizza in the world.  And in a magical twist of karma from the pastry gods our last driver turned out to be the owner of a bakery in town.  Free goods tomorrow. 

Sad but Savory

Commissioned to cook lamb from the stable tonight.  The rule is, as long as you don't know the name you are allowed to roast it with rosemary and garlic mustard. 


Perhaps an inappropriate moment to post photos of the stable sheep, but Kjaten asked me to photo the poor souls before they went to slaughter...

Enough of the sad, here is the barn I've been shoveling shit out of for the past few days

And its resident poop machines

I think this one looks like a dog

Llama...amiright?

My current favorite, I think his name is Dvergur (dwarf). He is blind because his horns grew into his eyes. Besides Donna Clara, one of the few accessible sheep.