Seyðisfjörður – Höfn
It was another cold night, but being sardined inside Jim’s tent kept us both toasty warm. We were so squished in fact, that when my phone alarm went about its morning ritual, I was so tightly bundled in my sleeping bag that I couldn’t move my arms to switch it off. Wriggling around like a grub only seemed to make matters worse, so we both lay there and endured its torturous beeps for as long as we could stand.
We ate our breakfast on a charred picnic bench – some happy camper obviously got a bit too carried away with their ramen – surrounded by towering snowy peaks and the distant rumbles from waterfalls tumbling down their sides.
Keen to get moving, we packed up, jumped in the Jimny and went for a little drive along the north end of the fjord. As we negotiated our way past a small herd of loose Icelandic ponies; who were in the midst of some kind of domestic dispute, the sun burst through the clouds, making its first proper appearance since we had arrived and illuminating the beautiful countryside before us.
We drove slowly through the farmland until we reached a dead end, then turned back, contently drinking in the scenery for a second time. Unlike a lot of the land we had traversed so far in Iceland, there was nothing bleak or barren about Seyðisfjörður.
We pulled up and took a short stroll to one of the many impressive waterfalls just outside of the town. Vestdalsfossar was made up of a number of gushing streams, all noisily making their escape from the mountains and down into the icy waters of the fjord behind us.
We wanted to spend more time in this charming little town, but time was not on our side and we had a big drive ahead of us to our next destination, Höfn.
We made our way back over the snowy mountain pass, rejoined Route 1 and headed south, following the contours of the fjords and coast the entire way. The sun beamed down in the magnificently blue sky and the mountains reflected perfectly in the crystal clear waters.
We spotted more seals lazing in the shallows; or ‘blubber boys’ as we had fondly started referring to them as. The waters were so clear, that I actually managed to catch sight a jelly fish whilst driving past at 40mph. I insisted we stop, and I climbed down the rocky embankment to watch it bob around aimlessly and get itself helplessly tangled in the reeds.
By now, Jim had learnt to be patient with my time consuming fascination with all living things, and let me be for the next 20 minutes; perched on a wobbly rock, camera poised, enthusiastically providing a running commentary about the creatures every movement, as he watched on knowingly from the road.
We arrived at the campsite in Höfn in the late afternoon. The scenery surrounding us was beautiful, with mountains and a lake to one side, and a tell tale white ripples of a glacier on the horizon in the other direction; something I’d never seen in person before.
We set up our tents, cooked a tasty vegan chilli for dinner and as darkness rolled in, we were treated to a very faint glimpse of the Northern Lights.
Höfn Camping and Cottages