Tramping tales for 20 - 24 September 2015

An extraordinary break in Iceland over four nights was dreamt up by our daughter Justine and she packed us off on the train to Manchester on the 19^th September for some rest and restoration!

 

Lying just below the Arctic Circle, Iceland is the furthest North we have ever gone. Dan had ensured we were togged out for the cold and we were very excited.

We overnighted in the airport hotel in Manchester in readiness for the early morning flight into Keflavik International Airport. Built by Americans during WW2; we found it most confusing to exit the plane and find ourselves caught up in the congestion of awaiting departures. A time warp and rather inadequate for the number of tourists flying in and out of Iceland in recent years. Our Riviera and Icelandic Guide, Valur was waiting for us in the entrance hall.

Day One immediately began… A 45 minute coach ride to the capital, Reykjavik, through a flat lava strewn landscape in the midst of which lay not only a golf-course in the most inhospitable terrain imaginable, but also a aluminium factory which, capitalising on the ready availability of geothermal power to create cheap electricity; imports bauxite from Australia and exports aluminium blocks to other production lines in Europe. A little beyond our mental conception arose when Valur mentioned that  The Artic Golf Classic is held during the 24 hour long summer days, and playoff begins at midnight.   Closer to the city he  explained hotels rarely have their rooms ready until the late afternoon therefore we’d start with an orientation tour of Reykjavik along with its history. Much to our quiet dismay our warm clothes and camera were packed in our bags. These had been placed, first up, in the hidden depths of the coach luggage compartment. Far from easy to retrieve thus we had to make do without our thermal underwear and George’s camera. On the coach we were fine. Stepping out another story with a cold wind licking around every bend and very true to forecast – a weather change every five minutes, which included rain often! 

                                                           Lea’s phone camera came to the rescue.

Hofoi House – Einar Benediktsson, an Icelandic poet and lawyer, resided at Hofoi house for many years. His statue, by Asmundur Sveinsson, stands near the house with Smoky Bay behind.  His poetry was a significant contribution to the nationalistic revival leading to Iceland's independence. Years down the line, 1986, the historical meeting between Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev took place in Hofoi House, the outcome resulting in the first steps made towards ending of the Cold War and nuclear disarmament.

Concert Hall (Harpa House) was in the midst of being built when Iceland’s entire banking system failed, leading to a severe depression and substantial political unrest. The 2008 World economic crisis followed close on its heels.  However, the city fathers decided it was cheaper to finish the structure in the years that followed rather than stop and restart later. Valur’s chagrin was still evident all these years after as he pointed out other super structures that remained incomplete on the Bay front. He mentioned the ongoing court cases of Iceland’s bankers and the search for hidden funds they'd syphoned off, with only a few inside, doing their time.  Harpa was a building dominated by glass which was all imported from China.

Perlan restaurant on a hill overlooking the city and beyond, had more recently been cleverly built around 4 large tanks once used for the storage of geothermally heated water distributed throughout the city. This provided panoramic views and a very suitable venue for the influx of tourists to Iceland. This is where we had lunch and our bowls of traditional meat soup followed by refills of mushroom soup went down well.

Hallgrimskirkja (King’s) church has a very unusual and dominant bell tower inspired by the shapes of cooling lava columns and it is Iceland’s largest church; on entry, one is immediately aware of its cool simplicity for such a huge space in a very cold country. Once you notice the warmly padded and comfortable pews and remember that much of Iceland’s stone floors are all geothermally warmed this chilly looking and architecturally cutting edge looking church. The enormous organ behind the pews with its organ pipes filling the back wall, was amazing.  Quite confronting and unexpected for a church was the art on display in the foyer. George felt it was totally inappropriate and weird! Ceramic hands with large nails through the palm – fair enough. But a woman’s breast bleeding, ducks and frogs perched on heads and a large painting of the crucifixion with another, immediately beside it with a  life size nude man holding out his hand to those on the cross  left George gobsmacked… In the arced space behind the main altar more life sized paintings of nude men filled the area. Definitely a very MODERN place of worship!

In the little square, fronting the church we found a statue of Leif Eriksson, a Norse explorer generally regarded by Icelandic people to be the Americas founder, nearly 500 years before Christopher Columbus arrived in 1492! This statue can barely be seen in the photo taken of George managing to keep a tight grip on good behaviour as the freezing winds and another bout of rain had him sheltering up against a wall.

The main street was decorated in some colour- a rainbow painted partway down the road; and to one side  a photographic exhibition stood up to the weather. A few quiet looking restaurants at the far end until we remembered it was a Sunday. Shop windows we passed didn’t draw noses to the glass perhaps the rain and wind added a gloomy haze to everything… At the end of the day we were left with an overall vision of large, plain blocks and angles for this city – more industrial looking. However, over time we noticed bits of Icelandic humour (using a four letter word often enough) ‘We may not have F…ing cash but we do have plenty of ash’! Perhaps this counts too - as Iceland does not have an army there is no hallowed ground for the Unknown Soldier; instead, in another small square we came across a statue of an ‘Unknown Banker’ although Lea felt ‘city worker’ was more appropriate. In the City Hall, close by and beautifully situated on the very edge of large Reykjavik Pond with many ducks sheltering up against the  picture windows; we found a  topographic model of Iceland  that had taken 17 “man” years to make (i.e. four men working continuously for four years). This provided a perfect medium to explain Iceland’s inherent geological instability.

Last port of call was ‘Parliament House’- again the simple humility of the place stood out and no security. It could easily have been a home! Oops! Not quite straight... cold getting to Lea’s hands.

Foss Hotel, a sixteen floor towering grey building had only been completed two months before. Everything was beautifully new, low key and minimalist. Swiftly and smoothly processed we were glad to flop on our very comfortable bed on the sixth floor. Weather was not conducive to walking down the hill to the harbour- despite Valur’s dinner recommendations there.  Our immediate surrounds were bleak looking buildings, closed to the elements. We decided dinner in the hotel restaurant ’Haust’ was our best bet.  Three twigs sticking out of a tiny bucket of sand did not impress George as a table arrangement until he understood this was the seasonal theme. Autumn produce dominated on the a la carte menu too.  Nor was the menu separated into the usual starters, mains and desserts instead our delightful waitress explained the meals graded upwards from small, medium to large servings without being separated and gave us some guidance! The dark, crusty, freshly baked bread arriving on our table was utterly delicious and we ‘sailed’ into such moreish bread we had to ask for more! Very little meat on the menu that we chose interesting sounding vegetarian dishes which sent our taste buds into ecstasy. George had a delicious mushroom risotto topped with kale deep fried in tempura as a garnish. Lea had butternut chunks beautifully plated up with a goat’s cheese sauce, wilted spinach and the nuttiest, crunchy pumpkin seeds chopped up and scattered. Sue Ramsden came to mind as did Israeli chef Ottolenghi, whose recipe books we all pore over regularly; as we tucked in. How could we turn down trying pudding when such food artistry came out of their kitchens? We had a chocolate mousse and a beetroot ice-cream with wild berry sauce. Heaven! Never were we to step out of the hotel for dinner over the next three nights. In mitigation, there were timing issues, weather or sore feet! Instead we resorted to a hotel pub meal by chance after catching the last part of ‘happy hour’. A come down? No ways, we were more than content with the epicurean dishes served up. A far cry from typical pub grub and very Icelandic.  Many of our tour group began joining us at the long tables towards the back of the airy pub as word spread of its tasty meals. As a result, our last night made for a very convivial occasion.  

     

Day 2 was labelled the Golden Circle Tour and starting out early, our day took us through a portion of the interior consisting of lava fields (devoid of trees), large lakes, erupting geysers, spectacular waterfalls and glacial rivers flowing towards the Atlantic Ocean. Reykjavík and the surrounding areas in the southwest of the country are home to over two-thirds of the 320 000 strong population, this renders Iceland as the most sparsely populated country in Europe. With the widespread availability of geothermal power and the harnessing of many rivers and waterfalls for hydro-electricity, most residents have access to inexpensive hot water, heating and electricity.

Although there was a distinct chill to the air we were blessed with a beautiful day and the sun shone for most of it. According to Valur this could be Iceland’s first and only day of summer! The first stopover was Pingvellir National Park (established in 1928) – a momentous location where, around 930AD, the first “parliament” (Althing) was convened and continued until the 18^th century.  Commonly regarded as Iceland's national shrine individuals such as the poet Einar Benediktsson (referred to earlier), lie buried at Pingvellir. July 1974 marked 1100^th anniversary of the settlement of Iceland – with tens of thousands of Icelanders celebrating the occasion at Pingvellir.  An empty land, infused with meaning, as almost every place seemed linked to ancient sagas and battles among its war loving Viking settlers. We were told of the  savage penalties of  those days (circa 1280 AD) and shown  a  particular pool, within the Park, that was used for drowning people as a method of execution (women being tied up in a sack and pushed into the pool); criminals being beheaded and sorcerers being burnt at the stake.

Iceland is also regarded as a “geologically young land” (i.e. 16 million years old) and it is located on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. The fact the ridge runs right through the island means it is highly geologically active. Being split in this manner by the mid-Atlantic ridge, the island includes parts of both the North American and Eurasian continental plates, these being separated by a 5-7km wide valley. It is here in Pingvellir National Park that  visitors have the opportunity to stroll along the striking chasm left when the two plates diverged, leaving two great rock scars on either side. In NO way, as tourist brochures commonly claim, is it possible “to stretch out and, literally touch both continents simultaneously”!

Geysir, was our next stop. Smoking ground! Steam rose from different directions as we slowly walked our way from one end to the other with the biggest erupting hot spring ‘Strokkur’ more or less holding centre stage. Superheated steam causes the ‘cauldron’ to steadily build up and bubble furiously before shooting hot water 20m (or so) into the air every 5-10 minutes.  – This was the best known erupting hot spring in one of many geothermally active areas that characterize much of Iceland.

Lunch was to be had in the Geysir Park Centre and in another part of the large complex we found a fascinating Multi Media Exhibition full of photographs, sights and sounds relating to the area and its history.  We’d easily have spent longer there instead of nervously keeping an eye on the clock.

The 31m high Golden Waterfall (Gullfoss) on the Hvita River, fed by the 800km² Langjokull ice cap had an interesting story attached to the ‘saving’ of this stunning Fall’s for posterity, thanks to a farmer’s daughter. Therefore, it didn’t sound good to hear that greedy eyes are once again, viewing the ‘70m drop’ into the deep gorge below as a possible hydro power station for the future. We walked to all of several vantage points, from which the falls could be seen.

Icelandic horses – renowned for their extreme hardiness (never brought indoors) and wit an ability to perform 5 different gaits were seen in their numbers as we travelled that day. En-route home, we stopped for a photo call by some obliging horses kindly posing close to the fence alongside a suitable place for the coach to pull off.  They may be the size of a pony but Icelanders are insistent these are HORSES!  The protection of the breed is strictly enforced    

The skies were clear. The sun’s glow cast a pleasing light across the landscape as the coach drove us home prompting Valur to mention the Northern Lights could be a possibility that night. This piqued the interest of many and as this was our only early night return to the hotel, he suggested interested parties check with Reception for companies possibly going out that night. There was more than enough interest for Valur to begin phoning around as we made the journey home and the hotel finalised the bookings for an 8 p.m. pick up. 

The enthusiastic anticipation of all, was further whipped up by the guide, as two coach loads of people waited for ‘Head Office’ to phone through the destination for optimal sightings according to weather reports…  The coaches set off as soon as Pingvellir National Park was excitedly announced as quite the most perfect spot. Our guide couldn’t wait to leave the city lights behind and enter the wild spaces with its darkness.  A forty five minute ride with explanations on what to expect, from this mighty adventure was prudently covered with nature’s phenomena being a matter of luck and IF we didn’t see the Northern Lights – our ticket was valid for two years… But, they had a good feeling this was to be a special night.  Be careful of hype it so often bites or disappoints. Five hours in the freezing cold (temperatures dropping to 3⁰C) – no hot drink let alone water available. Even the use of a toilet would sting for the equivalent of two Euros … We jumped around trying to keep warm and eventually huddled inside the coach waiting for a Lights call. The first came soon after 11 p.m. Those in the bus stumbled out in their hurry to see the amazing lights… How had we missed them peering out the windows at odd intervals in conversation? Eyes searched northwards for colours streaking across the sky as photos have always…. Nothing! Camera on tripods lining the northern front were whirring and making snapping noises and all we could see were hazy, streaks of light rising upwards on the horizon. Somewhat like thin, feathery cloud? Perhaps the security lights of the Park Office were obscuring our vision. We rushed to a darker position and searched for something more tangible – more like books have shown. Nothing! The cold drove us back to the coach. An hour later another excited call from the guide and again we tumbled out to SEE… Lea spotted a girl sitting on the wall with her camera on a tripod, filming herself against the northern sky. On playback, there were strange colours that had not been visible to the naked eye. This alone was the only indication that perhaps the Northern Lights were there; just not as we had expected! In the east, the moon rising made a more spectacular sight. The icy cold was not conducive to staying out there longer than necessary. We retired once again to the coach somewhat disillusioned. It was palpable relief for the weary mob in the bus when our driver announced soon after 1a.m that the stalwarts were packing up outside and we’d be going home. Sometime after two in the damp cold morning we tumbled exhaustedly into bed.

Day 3 dawned a foul, cold, wet day. It was hard to drag ourselves down to an early breakfast in readiness for a pick up for the Whale watching cruise. Despite all the brochures reckoning that September was the optimal time for whale watching in Iceland compared to anywhere else in the world – our deeper thoughts churned at any right minded whale coming out to frolic in this sort of weather. Whale watching has become an important part of Iceland's economy since 1997 and making matters worse we knew the Agent, Justine had booked our trip through had brought her husband to Iceland on the same flight as us, specifically to take him Whale Watching to celebrate his 40th Birthday. We had seen them briefly at Manchester airport and not again as they were in a different hotel and not in a group. We’d like to have known Louise and Rob had been successful.  As we arrived at the docks Valur pointed out Elding Whale Watching Company – protecting whales, on the right of the quay; while on the left, were the whale hunting boats… which took us aback.  Sure enough – Iceland, less confronting than Japan, still continues to kill whales on the grounds that they consume such large quantities of commercially significant fish that they need to culled! Quite unnecessary, and unproven, according to those on board Elding.

Nowadays, in contrast to the economic and political liability represented by whaling in Iceland, whale watching is hugely valuable to the Icelandic economy. In 2009, for example, roughly 125,000 people took a whale watch trip in Icelandic waters, providing direct revenue of more than US$4 million in direct taxes to the Icelandic economy, quite apart from the add-on tourism expenditures such as hotel and restaurant purchases. 

Apparently Icelandic whalers have slaughtered more than 35,000 whales since the late nineteenth century and refuse to recognize the International Whaling Commission moratorium on commercial whaling. Icelad currently allocates its whalers a quota to kill endangered fin whales (137 killed in 2014) mostly for export, as well as Minke whales (34 killed in 2014) to service domestic demand, the bulk of which, sadly, is that of tourists!

In November 1986, Greenpeace activists linked to the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, sabotaged a whaling station by destroying machinery and computers and sank two of Iceland’s four whaling ships in Reykjavik Harbour by unbolting the engines' raw water intakes. 

Elding provided Icelandic overalls, specifically manufactured for arctic conditions standing out on the decks. The keen whale watchers donned these and disappeared out on the decks to await a whale. We found a table inside preferring to wait in a dry, warm place without cumbersome suits on. Rough waters rocked the boat in every direction as we headed out into and beyond the Bay listening to the commentary, once again aware of the excited hype generated.  Two White Beaked Dolphins (a North Atlantic species) were spotted and excitement rose as those inside, rushed the windows. Good glimpses were seen on many occasions. NO whales, not even a distant ‘blow’.  We shared a table with a couple. The husband actively moved up and down the boat reporting on outside conditions and viewings, eating and drinking coffee until we began returning to dock. Suddenly, he stretched out somewhat frantically for a stack of paper, not serviettes but sick bags! With a vivid imagination and a gut that so easily joins in, Lea struggled to distract and mentally remove herself from this captive seat; as he coughed and spluttered giving rise to a distinctive smell. Worse, as she whipped her head into another direction willing the bile within her not to rise, she noticed the lady on the next table with tightly closed eyes, blocking her ears…this was too much and to her embarrassment Lea was entrapped with a bout of terrible giggles and dry retching. George could feel her shaking madly but had no idea what was going on in his wife’s head suffice that he needed to look elsewhere too. It was a relief to get out of there. Memo to ourselves…NO more chasing whales from tourist boats!

Once again, the free time available for the next few hours to wander the city had no appeal whatsoever in view of lashing rain and icy winds- we wanted our warm bed and some sleep. Meeting up in the hotel lobby at 3.45pm with our swimming costumes ready for the outing to Blue Lagoon, in freezing conditions was considered sheer madness by many. Yet we needed to focus enthusiastically, as this site registers within the top 25 wonders in the world. Our coach dropped us adjacent to a nearby power station which didn’t sit well with us to start, until we entered a field of large, rugged volcanic rocks. A pathway opened up to lead us through to a highly organised geothermal Spa set within its midst.  Speedily processed with rubber bracelets that personally accessed a locker and allowed one to pay for anything within the building and at the water café.  The men headed off in one direction while the women nervously entered the change rooms to be overawed by a maze of passages and rooms humming with people in a predominant state of undress. Once again, Lea fought to overcome her giggles as scene after scene put her in mind of a cattle sale with chaotic pens. Once a group of us found some scattered but soon to be vacated lockers in the bowels of the ablution area; Lea found herself the unexpected leader trying to communicate with non-English speakers inadvertently preventing us from accessing  the empty lockers still under their bracelet code as they departed. Finally we’d all changed; anxiously removed jewellery after being warned that silver and white gold blackened in the water and, discovered how to use the locking device on our wrist, for peace of mind. Husbands had given up waiting in the predetermined place; all wrong anyway, as passages led us in a whole new direction, past open showers. Here, bare bodies, blue with cold, in assorted hues and sizes, were roaming around trying to find a free shower.  There had been snugly white towelling wraps with big brown towels for hire at ten pounds- extortionate! Now, regret was etched across many faces as the arctic wind hurtled through the door swinging open to empty us into an icy room with a heated pool to one side and crowded with people. Where to find our menfolk in this congestion... heavy duty plastic ribbons hung down the outdoor entrance barely shielding us from the wind, indoors. Thick steam rose from the vast pools that curled through the volcanic rocks and we peered out trying to see any familiar face before venturing out.  George appeared from behind; urged me out into the water so he could try and get one photo before returning to his locker as a camera was a problem in these lethal conditions.

                                "Blue Lagoon" was a never to be forgotten bathing experience.

The grey blue lake containing steaming, mineral rich waters renowned for their healing properties was much cooler than the expected 38⁰C due to the mixing caused by the rain and cold winds blowing all day.  As we floated out there with rain sending rivulets of cold water down our faces and soaking our hair we shared our earlier experiences  - farming had dominated  Lea’s thoughts especially outside the showers when “DIP, Dip, dip” wanted to form on her tongue  for the sheep we’d all become.  George had felt a more sinister bewilderment…                                                                                                                

Within an hour, wrinkled skins and blue lips forced us to leave these strangely magical waters and we both found the change rooms far quieter and orderly. With nothing owed on our bracelets we passed them into an exit box and found a seat in the café overlooking a section of Blue Lagoon wearing a greyer garb as night fell. Hungrily we devoured delicious smoked salmon baguettes washed down with an icy cold beer. Value for quantity- went to beer over fizzy drinks!  

On Day 4 we were faced with a  400 km (12 hour) trip east of Reykjavik over the coastal plains (ancient sea floor) that are used primarily for dairying, growing of potatoes not to mention the many white plastic wrapped bales of grass (‘tractor eggs’ as they are colloquially called) which are exported to the Faroe Islands as feed. Hard to believe a land of such inclement weather is capable of being self-sufficient when it came to agriculture without much sun! And up into the volcanic mountains…

We stopped to see the water fall – Seljalandfoss (see photo with waterfalls!) and in time, our first sighting  of the  glacier topped Eyjafjallajokull volcano that held Europe’s Airlines to ransom when it  erupted on 21 March 2010 ( first time since 1821). The resultant cloud of volcanic ash brought major disruption to air travel across Europe. It also affected Justine, Daniel, Otto, Roo and Kiki in Bangkok preventing them from returning home after our first Family Reunion in Thailand.  600 people were forced to flee their homes in the immediate region due to falling ash 'like black flour'. According to Valor, the farmer’s wife had a ‘bad feeling’ in the days leading to the first eruption just above their farm Porvaldseyri

 

Our coach stopped at the farm entrance and we looked across at its present appearance and in a beautiful state of fertility. The photographs above, were on the fence showing the two different eruptions that had occurred within that month of 2010 and continued for six weeks.

“Sandstorms” across the coastal plains generated by strong winds lifting the fluffy volcanic soils in the area were an absolute hazard in the past, especially for traffic. Over recent year these sandstorms have been brought under control (stabilised) by planting Alaskan lupines and grass leaving a lushness to what would have been a rather bleak landscape. The absence of trees in Iceland is striking. Apparently,all their trees were felled for charcoal up until the 19^th century; grazing of Iceland’s long haired sheep put paid to the rest. On leaving the city Valur had pointed out Friends Forest – evergreen trees planted by visiting dignitaries and celebrities.  When the trees had barely grown much more than when planted a couple of years later – the city fathers involved in the exercise complained to the company in Norway only to be told there was nothing wrong, these were the dwarf evergreens they had ordered. This gave rise to the humour ‘Should you get lost in a forest in Iceland, just stand up’!

It was raining as we approach our next stop where we were also to have lunch. Valur mentioned our tour group most conveniently, in view of the weather, been given the early 11.30 a.m. booking. We looked at our watches it was almost that time... By the time we'd exited the coach (another five minutes had passed  A break in the weather occurred and George felt we should grab the opportunity to view Skogafoss and hopefully take the obvious pathway cut into the side of the mountain to a viewing platform above it before the next weather change.  It helped to stride briskly out across the very wet and somewhat muddy flood plain in chilly winds to enjoy the 60m high waterfall before tackling the steep steps along with slippery mud path until we reached the 527 metal steps leading to the viewing platform that overlooked the crest of the falls. (Photo 5) It took some doing getting up and down and we fell into the very few, amongst our tour party, that achieved it. The view across to the coast made the slog worth it. The other poor souls had to contend with drizzle while we comfortably relaxed over lunch. By the time they were on the homeward trail - the sun came out briefly for us to enjoy a brighter lighting across Skogafoss.

After lunch and a few more kilometres onwards we reached the Solheimajokull glacier, a gradually retreating outlet glacier lying below the Myrdalsjokull ice cap providing us another brisk walk along the edge of the ancient glacial passage.

Then it was down to the coast to look at a black beach; or so we thought! Nothing prepared us for Reynisfjara (Black) beach at the southernmost tip of Iceland. Totally unknown to us, it is famed for its beauty and the tall stacks offshore. Such striking scenery with wild and dangerous rollers of the Atlantic crashing onto the strangely beguiling back beach with its pebbles; threatening to take the life of any careless tourist. We have seen wonderful columnar basalt formations in Australia - (Sawn Rocks, Queensland) but the Halsanefshellir cavern at the foot of towering cliffs ((formed when magma cools slowly and cracks into hexagonal column) was a mind blowing sight and the entire scene was definitely a highlight of our trip. Normally home to puffin colonies, sadly they'd already departed for warmer climes.

Rather than return home through the mountains Valur and our coach driver decided we had time in hand to return along the coast and stop in at the old fishing village of Eyrarbakki. Once, Iceland’s only trading post, it was used to accommodate people evacuated from the Vestmannaeyjar (Westman) Islands (*) after an eruption there in 1973.  Here, we were to see the best collection of traditional, colourful wooden houses. This is what we had expected in Iceland hence our initial disappointment at seeing a predominant number of large, dreary looking block building more like warehouses and the very few typical coloured homes, spread thinly around the capital city.

 

We found fish drying in odd places – under a boardwalk leading up to the beach; strung out under open beams in the park.  How fish dries in that climate beats us.

(*) An archipelago of 15 islands off the south coast of Iceland which came to international attention in 1973 with the eruption of the Eldfell volcano which forced a month long evacuation of the entire population to mainland Iceland. Approximately one fifth of the town involved was destroyed before the lava flow was halted by application of 6.8 billion litres of cold sea water.

Our extraordinary taster of Iceland came to an end. On the Thursday Valur and our coach took us out to the airport in plenty of time for our 9 a.m. departure. At the departure gate we met up with Louise and Rob. They hadn’t seen anything on their whale trip the previous ‘good’ day to us, not even a dolphin.

Never mind the weather, this had been a most interesting country and we had only seen a tip of it.  We certainly fancied a return merely to take the outer ring road around the perimeter of Iceland – doing our grey nomad thing! Thank you Justine and Dan, thank you.

Tramping tales for August 2015

 CRETE –   9 - 21 August

Summer Holidays were here for our grandchildren and we were included in a family holiday in Crete flying out of Gatwick. A decision taken to break the journey half way with Talya and Bryan Nicolay, we departed for their home on the Friday.  Taking after her mother despite working in London, Talea was ready and waiting for us with a delicious dinner. Bryan had a night surgery and only joined us on bedtime.  Unfortunately they had an important social engagement for Saturday night and due to distances they departed immediately after lunch and left us the run of their house. 

Not far from their address was a lake where Cable Tow Wake Boarding took place and a fun afternoon was spent watching the kids come to grips with this sport…

 

Sunday morning we set off for Gatwick, glad we hadn’t left it later as we snarled up in the traffic of the London Outer Ring road. Glad too that arrangements to meet for lunch with Louise and Guy Mitchell had whittled down to a quick meeting in the airport and, sadly it was short and sweet but special. Before we knew, Dan had us all in a panic, haring down up and down the tunnels of Gatwick to find the right departure gate before the flight closed! Gasping for breath and adrenalin pumping, we found Easy Jet hadn’t yet opened its gate….

The Island of Crete – far bigger than we’d imagined

Late at night we landed in Heraklion. Daniel had organised for two hire cars to be waiting ready to load the windsurfing boards- three long, tightly packed bags aboard before heading to the edge of town for the night  in Sophia Hotel-  just perfect.

 After a leisurely breakfast we took to the road in convoy, heading east to Palekastro over the mountains with superb coastal views.

 En-route for Kouremenos Beach, we took a break in a stunning spot with panoramic views for a most refreshing and needed coke. Otto took this lovely photo of Justy and her parents.

We also stopped at a large supermarket as we began the downward journey towards the coast and to Lea’s horror as she shut her car door, she heard a strangled noise behind her and there was Roo with his fingers trapped in the door… He had come from the front of the vehicle to see how Otto’s go-pro was doing and placed his hand across the corner of the windscreen. Awful moments and, with his Mum already in the store unaware of the incident I charged after to her to hopefully find ice… Dan  shot into the shop and simply grabbed a pack of frozen peas!

Casa di Mer set in amongst an Olive Grove close to Kouremenos Beach. We had two lovely apartments next door to each other overlooking the sea a couple of hundred metres away and a swimming pool when the heat got to us….

 An utterly blissful holiday with sun, sea and sand on our doorstep not to mention an incredible number of family run tavernas lining the beach front. For a good part of the morning the stretch of beach in front of us was empty. As temperatures soared during the afternoon locals from Palekastro came to bob in the sea and keep cool just as we’d seen them do along the coast outside Athens.

At the southern end of Kouremenos Beach, below the distinctive landmark Koorpi Kastri Mountain was the very popular windsurfing area that has drawn the Ramsden’s back for the past three years. Gone Crete Windsurfing run by couple Christos and Marion, had become friends and every day the family  congregated around the surf shop early  morning, to ensure a piece of the limited shade. We left them to it, happy to read and relax on our balcony or down at the pool. The heat was energy sapping and any thought of travelling further afield proved too much to contemplate, much as we’d wished to go in search of Elfie and Chris Eleftheriadis from our Kariba days – living on the western edge of Crete. It was enough strolling northwards  to the little fishing harbour of a morning, most times we preferred to keep our cool and only walk at evening time, joining the family for an hour or two at ‘sundowner’ time when a cold beer , a G and T even a mojito did not go amiss!  The usual winds that kept windsurfers very happy were not to materialise during our visit. The two boys found the wind good enough and for Kiki, eager to have lessons each day- conditions were perfect.   By the time the family reluctantly left the beach towards last light, we’d be showered and ready for a night out and starving…

Such was the lazy and wonderfully relaxing rhythm of our days. Every night a different restaurant sometimes in neighbouring villages along the coast or up in the town or, if we were far too hungry, a mere walk away … all produced excellent  home cooked, typical food of the region. A wild and more remote area that is only just beginning to attract the tourist so it is low key and beautiful to the likes of us.

Dining in the village of Agkathias, Otto joined us to check out the little church further up the hill and took this photo.  We were to come across many all built in the same style just different sizes.

Staring out at Koorpi Kastri, George and Otto planned an early morning hike from this vantage point! 

Mission accomplished – George and Otto made it to the top well before the heat of the day.          Days later Daniel and Kiki made the trek up Koorpi Kastri too.

Palaikastro Town square with traditional musicians and dancers entertaining the crowds 

The annual Feast of Saint Mary took place on the Saturday night with the tiny square and roads through Palaikastro closed off to traffic as the community turned out in force to dine beneath the stars served by the different restaurants.  We decided not to eat in the crowded town but curiosity drew us up there after dinner and we happily watched the entertainment. Our night was made when Zorba’s Dance ended that section of the night- so very loveably GREEK to us…    

  

Justine and Daniel were keen to show us Zakros Beach set in the Sitia Natural Park which covers most of the eastern end of Crete.

The most surprising part of this incredibly popular beach was not only the Cretan Date Palm forest on entry to the bay; down at the beach, we found a regimented and well laid out car park for a fee which we were happy to pay. The trouble the council had taken to protect and provide was very evident… board walks, gazebos and all services.  We could easily be forgiven for thinking we’d suddenly arrived on a Thai beach with all the loungers set up close to the water’s edge and stretching back to the forest edge.  George and Kiki walked up the head with their watercolours to paint and the rest of us moved as far north of the beach to be away from the steadily growing madding crowd. Little shade, MacGyver and sons tried to fix up a temporary shelter using a large rock for Justine and Lea to read. Within the azure sea, happy hours were spent on rocky platforms keeping cool.

Kiki taking her first steps towards a career in entomology!

Enjoying art lessons with her grandfather, Kiki’s love of animals took her in a new direction when she found the pool filter trapped with drowned insects. George began separating all the insects she found into their different families by showing her what external characteristics distinguished each type. This led to a drawing being made of each type of insect (dorsal and ventral aspects included) and the labelling of each body part; the compilation of a table showing the number of each type found and a listing of their common and scientific names! Using a couple of tooth picks they even did a dissection of a cockroach in order to examine and draw its internal organs. Kiki’s rapt attention, even foregoing the prospect of windsurfing in preference to her morning entomology lesson, was quite something to behold!    

Elikas Bay took some finding and excitement was added when the army began calling down the mountain to say we were on prohibited land. Not that we understood until a man leaving in another car walked back and informed us that they had been told to leave. We left the area immediately and returned to the other side of the bay to wander amongst the rocks – daring others to jump from the highest ones and just enjoying the water and scenery.

We held our wedding anniversary dinner in Hiona, just the other side of Kastri Mountain to Kouremenos Beach.  

Party time celebrating our 47 years with the family in a lovely restaurant perched on the edge of the sea.

Ten wonderfully happy and carefree days spent in Crete came to an end soon after with a bit of a bump. Driving back to Tetney in the early hours of Friday 21^st George unexpectedly, began to feel very clammy and run a fever. All very tired after the flight and a day of travel back to Heraklion we thought a good sleep would soon put him right.  George continued with an  on/ off fever during a week when home was like a railway station and we were all distracted by friends and family house guests that we simply passed it off as a virus and George would retire to bed with the next bout of short lived fever without complaint…

The long awaited Cotswolds weekend arrived and as planned, we set off in convoy with Dan’s brother Matthew, Sue and their daughter Natasha. Another of Dan’s brothers - Ben from France also tagged on with his two daughters Lola and Phoebe. Our journey brought us into Moreton-in-Marsh where we were to share a delightful and most comfortable ‘Red House’ situated above shops with Matt, Sue and Natasha while the others slept in the motor home and campervan on the street below. This broad street – Fosse Way, was once, one of Britain’s major Roman roads. As soon as we’d settled our luggage we headed out to find lunch in the direction of Stow–on-the-Wold ending up in the lovely but very busy Bourton-on-Water for the afternoon.  Come evening as we relaxed in Red House Dan suggested a walk through the town.  Always ready to explore further Lea joined Dan and Matt – she should have known better! Their idea was  walking from pub to pub tasting G and T’s and in for a penny , in for a pound; that is exactly what we did, arriving home just in time to join the mob for the walk up to the restaurant for our dinner date – all 15 of us. Ben’s restraint turned out to be a decision to cross the Channel back to France during the night.

Day of the ‘Big Feastival’ had arrived and we all squeezed into the motorhome to make the short trip to the farm of Alex King (ex - Boy Band, Blur) a goats cheesemaker of renown for the region. 

    

The foodies were there to watch the chefs in action particularly Raymond Blanc and Jamie Oliver and the rest were into music with many Bands scheduled throughout the afternoon into the night.  No sooner had we gained entrance to this massive and widespread venue than George suddenly began another fever and decided to return to the motor home.  Thank goodness it was there in a relatively quiet car park some distance away; as that is where he was to stay feeling pretty grim for the ten hour duration. Meanwhile despite the overcast weather and rain we were all happy to endure… Highlight for Lea was a front row seat in the AEG Big Kitchen that began on her three legged stool when the rain thundered down soon after 1p.m.  Until, she speedily upgraded to the front bench as it was vacated. There, in sheer delight and disbelief, she stayed until 6 pm enjoying different demonstrations until the very reason for being at the Feastival arrived.  The French Chef Raymond Blanc’s hour and then Jamie Oliver followed with his guest Gennaro Contaldo (one of the Two Greedy Italians). Such was the popularity of these Chefs , the crowds were not only packed into the open ended marquis they stretched far beyond – everyone craning to be part of the moment. There was no way for Justine and Sue to even squeeze through to sit at my feet… During Jamie’s hour and in keeping with his good eating mantra he endorsed a young Hunter/ Gatherer who arrived with his basket of ‘bush food’. This was of particular interest as this past Spring Sue took Lea and Justine on foraging trips for wild garlic, elderberry flowers and samphire and taught us how to use it.  Sue’s patience in frying elderberry flowers in tempura proved far too fiddly for our liking. Wild garlic, however, became a family favourite throughout the short season and we returned time and again into the Lincolnshire Wolds to gather these wonderfully pungent leaves and use them in a variety of ways. Firm favourite was a risotto followed by sweet potatoes served with a coconut oil and wild garlic butter. YUM- roll on spring! Samphire was to provide many unusual salads.  Intriguingly this Hunter/ Gatherer provided huge puff balls - definitely thought to be an untouchable in Africa but it fried in slices and served up as the base for bruschette by Gennaro!

By the time Lea returned to the music arena the crowds were thick on the damp ground and the numbers heaved around the stage, not to mention the queues lined up at the many food tents.  Atmospheric and fun with bubbles of different sizes floating in the air the night passed fast for us.  By the time we returned home the light drizzle had turned to rain and by morning any thought to enjoy the Bank Holiday in Chipping Campden was washed out. Never-the-less we took the opportunity to visit “the most beautiful village street now left on the island” and see what we could of this ancient town, designated a conservation area with its unusual 17^th century Market Hall before turning for home in rain that never left us.

The next day, Lea insisted George see a doctor as the sporadic temperature and fevers had gone on for too long. Driving in for the early appointment the fever returned and peaked for the worse.  We were shocked to find that his temperature registered 41.5 and worse, not only was he was very dehydrated, he rapidly became disorientated. He was admitted to Grimsby A and E and speedily attended to with oxygen, drip and antibiotic. Chest X-ray and blood tests followed. He was cleared of pneumonia and admitted to the acute ward. Early indication was malaria.  We battled to accept this possible diagnosis, nine months down the line from any possible malaria until, both our son Keith and Travel Clinic expert Di Nicolay confirmed a recurring malaria dating back to 1969 was possible under stress. Sure enough P.vivax the rare, recurring malaria was found in his system and with the help of London Tropical Diseases, Grimsby Hospital was able to stabilise him until the specific medication required by this strain was obtained.  On discharge George promptly googled P.vivax in the Amazon Jungle and it was there.  He is inclined to believe a mosquito there re-infected him and it did not date back to the bad dose he suffered in 1969 recurring again in 1976.          

   

Tramping tales for period 30 November to 3 December 2014 (CHILE)

With our Bunniks trip over we flew to Santiago to pick up on our Round World ticket again. Against picking up exhausting connecting flights we had chosen to spend a few nights in Santiago before the flight back to Australia.  Knowing we’d arrive in a new country on our own during the midnight hours, we had booked a night in the Holiday Inn across the road from the airport and three nights in a city hotel, over the internet many months before.

A problem travelling from one South American country to another is the ever changing currency from Reals, to Dollars, to Sols, to Pesos …  The differing exchange rates also create alarm when we are asked to pay 13 000 pesos for a taxi into the city centre! Calm resumes once we’ve worked out it amounts to a fair price of $25. George checked around the bus and taxi ranks in the morning refusing to listen to a tout and in the end he gave us the best price so we cruised into the city in a large limo. The drive from the airport into the metropolis of Santiago had us quickly recognise Chile was a country with a lot more money in circulation. Despite the fast flowing modern transportation system; the high rise buildings, impressive universities, banks and offices – squatters living beside the Mapocho River and the amount of urban wastes openly dumped on its banks were just as obvious. 

Hotel Galerias, was only a few blocks away from the Plaza de Armas in the city centre. Consequently, once safely ensconced in our room on the 10^th floor with its panoramic view of the streets below, and armed with a tour brochure recommended by the concierge, we decided what we’d do over the following three days. Booked them with our man in the lobby and before too long, we were strolling along the large pedestrian mall (Ahumada Street) towards the city’s main square; with Lea unable to resist browsing through the many departmental stores, while George happily watched the street performers… artists drawing in chalk on the pavement,  a 3 piece band consisting of a lady and her parrot playing an organ grinder while two men with drums on their backs danced and spun around as they drummed.

Even more interesting; when the band moved on up the mall, one of the drummers forgot to take the hat full of money. It was left in the middle of the pavement! We eyed the crowds walking past the hat wondering when someone would take it. In due course the hat was spotted by an unkempt old ruffian who, furtively looked around as he eyed it in disbelief and waited the opportune moment to swoop. He left it too late as the drummer returned to collect the hat and the old man’s prospect of a windfall disappeared in the blink of an eye!  

    

Stomachs growling we looked at a few menus that made little sense to us and eventually resorted to using pictures of food outside the entrance of a restaurant.  Concerned she may unwittingly eat guinea pig, Lea asked the waitress “cuy - weeck weeck”? To which the waitress answered “No-no, este moo moo”! Problem solved… We enjoyed a most tasty lunch of pork belly on mash potato in the end.  Ice-cream? Everywhere we walked we’d find people eating or buying ice creams.  Every  ice cream parlour or outlet had queues, each one busily doing a  roaring trade… We came to the conclusion Santiago was the “City of Ice-creams”  Eventually, in an arcade humming with parlours offering numerous types of  ice creams with all sorts of optional extras, we fell prey to temptation.  Choices… a young girl offering healthy yoghurt ice cream samples outside a self-service booth won our custom. She spoke English too explaining the system… It was simply too delicious for words and we hankered for it every day… Finally, in the last hour before departing for the airport and Chile we returned for another taste sensation…  

    

On December 1^st, under the direction of a guide named Sergio, we travelled by bus to the Port of Valparaiso, 130 kms to the west of Santiago. Sergio had one of those voices that puts you to sleep. Consequently, for much of the way, as he prattled away about the weather, the vineyards and wines of the Casablanca valley, we nodded off on occasions only waking up when we reached the Palacio Vergara in Vina del Mar, the so called “garden city”, with baskets of petunias hanging from lamp-posts and colourful beds of begonias in the centre of traffic circles.  The Palacio Vergara was a magnificent old building set among gardens that contained a collection of trees from all over the world.  Substantial damage had been done to this beautiful old building when an earthquake (measuring 8.8 on the Richter scale at its epicentre) had shaken Valparaiso at 3.30 am on 27 Feb. 2010. Very close by, a purpose built concert venue, designed to be earthquake resistant had seated 15 000 people that particular night. Most fortunately, the concert ended an hour beforehand and that building withstood the earthquake without significant damage!

The Port of Valparaiso, declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, dates back to 1536. What with its trolley buses, old funicular elevators (dating back to 1902), murals and colourful buildings clinging to the steep slopes above the harbour, it is a fascinating place to wander through. Many of the houses have walls made from adobe that are protected from the weather with sheets of corrugated iron. Elsewhere are beautifully restored mansions from the colonial era, now used as offices or hotels (e.g. belonging to the French owned Relais and Chateaux chain).

Our tour ended in Sotomaya Square down by the harbour where it was interesting to see an old building that had collapsed after an earthquake in 1985 having been replaced by an earthquake resistant building, made from glass, inside it.  

When the time came to pay for our trip (on the way back to Santiago) Sergio could not get our ANZ debit card to work in his credit card machine. Consequently George had to draw the sum involved in cash at the Banque de Chile near our hotel and settle up with him the next day when we took the tour  to the seaside town of Isla Negra where Pablo Neruda, a well-known Chilean poet had lived.  Lea (who always remembers the weirdest things) was keen to learn more about this Nobel Literature prize winner.  Knowing nothing about Pablo Neruda, George was reminded of a 1984 visit Lea insisted on making to Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam where, on arrival he could not help wonder why on earth we’d come so far to see a virtually empty house! In this case Pablo Neruda home turned out to be a most eclectic and fascinating ramble of a home with superb views. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for his contribution to literature and the art of writing in 1971.. 

It was a cold foggy day so, while our group waited for its turn to enter Pablo’s house, we had some hot chocolate on a balcony overlooking the sea. On the menu was one of Pablo’s poems which read:

Here surrounding the island

There’s sea but what sea, it’s always overflowing

Says yes, then no, then no again,

and no, says yes, in blue

In sea spray raging, says no and no again.

It can’t be still, it stammers

My name is sea …

Considering it was written by a Nobel Prize winner, it left George stone cold … but by the time we had finished walking around his intriguing house, he had become a great Pablo Neruda fan!

 

Over the period 1938 – 1965 Pablo had constantly rebuilt and modified his house in order to incorporate the extraordinary number of things he liked to have around him, feeling pleased his house was “growing just as people and trees do ...” and as the length of the house grew longer and longer, he liked to think it was beginning to resemble Chile!  Every room - from the entrance hall to the living room; from dining room to bedroom; from his study to his library; to the “horse” room and more – were furnished and decorated in his own unique manner. Sadly, no photos were allowed … but the whole experience was unforgettable. Outside in the garden, overlooking his beloved ocean, his grave with his wife Matilde beside him.     

Such was our enthusiasm for this man and his home, our guide  Sergio slipped in a visit to look over a protected tract of land, Canteloa el sueno de Poeta, where Pablo had built a small wooden shack. A replica of which stands overlooking the ocean and surrounded by wild flowers as a memorial to this famous Chilean. 

From there we drove to Algorobbo for a delightful  lunch at a restaurant called Cava Fe – its surrounds, in contrast to those from where we had just come, spoilt by huge, ugly blocks of seaside apartments.  And on our return to Santiago an afternoon stop at the Vinamar Winery in the Casablanca Valley. In spite of our disinterest in wines, by the time we’d been shown around the vineyards; the huge stainless steel tanks in which the wine is fermented; learnt how sparkling wine is made and bottled; and learnt about how the oak used for the barrels in which wine is stored, effects its aroma and taste – we actually found the tour highly informative. Needless to say, we let the side down when the time came to taste some of the wines the estate produces, but the fact that most Chileans don’t like wine, preferring beer or Pisco and rum, made us feel a lot better!  

Before leaving for the airport the next day we had a little more time to spend walking around the streets of Santiago and George was desperate for a haircut.  Although we tried spending all our remaining pesos in the airport before leaving for New Zealand (our next destination) it was irritating to see how much extra one pays. Example:  a 500ml bottle of water in the city cost 250 pesos; the same amount of water bought in the airport cost 1800 pesos!    

As we all know … “all good things have to come to an end”.  Whether we liked it or not, our trip to South America was over and, after what we regarded as the most incredible, unforgettable voyage, it was time to head for home. Perhaps Lea’s letter to our travel agent (extract below) says it all?

“Never in our wildest imagination did we think our dream South American tour would surpass all expectations - and that is not gross exaggeration!  From the moment we landed in Lima and received a late night phone call [due to our hour of landing and the time it took to relocate our luggage that had inadvertently been forwarded on to Guayaquil in readiness for Galapagos by the airline] - from the Bunnik’s representative welcoming us into the country and ensuring their paperwork awaiting us at reception had indeed been handed over - an excellent package - and like kids with a 'lucky packet' it set the tone. 

From thereon we were looked after royally... never did we expect such personal attention, carefree travel from here to there with Guides that looked after our every need. SUPERB is all we can say. Even when our vehicle was rear ended at the end of a long day of excitement in Machu Picchu, followed by a 4 hour train trip and then the peak hour traffic back to Cuzco in the dark - frightening as it was - Abbilardo and Myra's first instinct was to look after us and ensure we were collected speedily by another vehicle - impressive indeed.

Accommodation - the high standard and in particular, their amazing variety never faltered throughout and, there were occasions when we thought- 'where are we going to stay… and miraculously, we'd be blown away by what was just around the corner. Every place we stayed required highly recommended for excellence....  

Our main Guides – every one of them were first class and went out of their way to ensure our comfort and security as well as make each day as memorable as possible. Often going the extra mile with something unexpected for our enjoyment and interest. They certainly succeeded!

Now that we have experienced the South American travel experience with such a personal touch I doubt any other will match accordingly - We have travelled widely but that was second to none....”