After spending a day in Sedisfjordur taking in the sights and going for a run, we continued our trek south. We were able to make it back to the city of Egilstadir without much difficulty, but traffic going south on the ring road was in short supply. We kept optimistic and a few hours later we were comfortably seated in a farmer's SUV zipping along the countryside. Our driver was a retired engineer who decided to buy a 47 square kilometer farm with about 500 sheep and spend his later years tending to his newly aquired flock. He invited us to see the farm and spend the night, his wife was in the US visiting their new grand children and he said he would love some company. We happily accepted his offer and we were given the grand tour and helped him feed a lamb who's mother had died that morning. The farmer had a knack for architecture and had redone much of the farm to be a beautiful estate. After a meal of my first pork in a few years, we headed to bed. The following morning after breakfast we set out again on a small gravel road to Hofn. In almost no time a car pulled over and let us in, two doctors who work bringing better healthcare to developing nations. The husband was an advid bird watcher, stopping the car regularly to peer through binoculars trying to spot one of the three nesting birds of Iceland he has not yet seen. Unluckily for him a bank of fog rolled in, obscuring most of the countryside and birdlife. After being dropped in Hofn and settling in at the hostel, we headed for the pool before dinner and bed. At the market we saw a small container of what looked like fish marked Hakarl, the famed putrid shark meal typical to Iceland. After making our purchase we excitely prepared other foods to rid ourselves of the taste in the event that it really was as bad as it sounded and tried some. Much to our disgust, it was one of the worst gustatory experiences of our life, a mix of rubbery, fishy and chemical taste that was most resistant to our other palate cleansers. Once that was checked off our list we cooked some not rotten food and settled in to bed.
The following morning we continued along the ring road towards Skaftafell, the glacier national park. We were picked up by a british couple in an old Landrover and when we asked to be dropped at the end of a mountain track heading to a place to go snowmobiling on the glacier, they insisted to use their rental car to its full potential, so up we went, zigzagging up the mountain side to the largest non-polar glacier in the world. At the top the couple decided to join us for the trip and soon we were zipping across the snow, first with Chelsea driving then after a photo break, I took over, pushing the machine to its limits, a nice 75kmph. In the back, I heard Chelsea laughing, or so I thought, when we were done, she told me she was instead yelling for me to slow down, whoops!
After an exciting trip back down the mountain we made it to Skaftafell just in time to cook some pasta and head to bed.
That should hold you over until my next installment