Vestmannaeyjar

Vestmannaeyjar, also referred to in English as the Westman Islands, are a part of a still active submarine volcanic system some 20 miles off the SW coast of Iceland. The latest addition, Surtsey (named after the evil spirit, Surtur), surfaced in in the mid-sixties. The last major eruption occurred here on the only inhabited island, Heimaey, in 1973, where a third of the town was buried under lava flows.

The island group was named after an Irish Worker's Collective, otherwise known as group of thralls, or slaves, who were put to death by one of the original Norse settlers, Ingolfur, in 874. He claimed they murdered his half-brother Hjorleifur. I'm not sure if they got a fair trial or not, but either way, it's just as well I'm sailing under the Welsh flag, not the Irish one.

The islands rise straight out of the sea in huge towering columns of rock. Sailing around here is like being in a surrealistic science-fiction move. But it's real enough.

Heimaey is a busy fishing port but also a tourist destination for mainland Icelanders.The views are stunning. I'll take a few pictures.

A small community, Heimaey has a different feel and character than the bright lights of Reykjavik. On entering the harbour I was soon directed to a secure berth by a village elder. Shortly after the Postmaster General drove down to the wharf to greet me and share some local knowledge.

At the local cafe I met local girl Sega who had recently met and fallen in love with an Englishman. He was back in England preparing a sailboat. They were planning to sail together to South Africa in the autumn. She showed me a picture of the boat, named Cariad. I told her it meant 'love' in Welsh and she swooned at the knowledge, eager to tell her beau this new revelation.

There's one other sailing boat from Belgium here. A crew of two men, they too are waiting for favourable winds to sail back home having cruised Greenland earlier this summer.

I'm keeping a watchful eye on the playful dance between high and low pressure systems as they roll across the North Atlantic. I may be here for a few days yet waiting for a spell of favourable winds. But I can't wait too long or risk the wrath of autumn gales and fearsome seas.

Until later,
Simon

Staying cool in Reykjavik

I haven't really warmed to Reykjavik. Like most “capital” towns and cities (Cardiff comes to mind) it suffers from an overinflated sense of self importance. Perhaps it's simply trying too hard to be “cosmopolitan” in this rugged northern outpost of civilization. It a place to 'be seen' rather than just 'be'.

Not that Reykjavik is devoid of charm. Far from it. But I don't think it'll be placed high on my list of places to return to soon.

My previous association with this town was that it hosted the remarkable meeting of Cold War leaders, Regan and Gorbachev. I wonder what they thought of the place. Perhaps I should give Gorby a call to see if he concurs with me.

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I explained to the Customs officers who came to visit me that a factor compelling me to sail here was the results of a study I heard on the BBC last winter. The study measured the 'happiness levels' of nations. Iceland came out as 2nd happiest nation on the planet. Yes, the officers knew of the study. But they sadly informed me that that study was relevant for last year only. With the recent devaluation in their currency, the kroner, their standing in world happiness levels had sunk considerably. Perhaps money can't buy happiness, but it seems loosing it can take it away.

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I'm looking forward to visiting a few of the smaller ports on the SW coast of Iceland before heading south for a 500 miles crossing to the outer western isles of Scotland. It's the small outposts that are usually more fun to visit and spend time in. There you're not just another 'face in the crowd' - you're the 'new kid on the block'. People tend to be more interesting. and interested in you.

My last port of call will probably be the port of Vestmannaeyjar on the off lying island of Heimaey, where there was a volcanic eruption in 1973, making the island considerably larger and burying a section of the town under volcanic ash. They call it the Pompey of the North and visitors are welcome to help out in the excavations of buried houses. No skeletons though – everyone was evacuated in time. Velkomin til Vestmannaejar – grab a shovel!

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I put together a few brief video clips of my sail up here from Newfoundland and uploaded them to youtube.com – but they came out squished like the last one! Back to the drawing boards. If I can get it sorted before I leave Reykjavik I'll post a link on this blog.

A special hello to Ann, Molly, Melanie, Emma, Karen, Soffi, Harmony, Val, Juliet, Angie, Marlene, Denise, Wendy, Suzanne, Tina, Rosemary, Milly, Gwen, Zoey, Jenny, Claudette, ... and Mandy

till later,
Simon

Life so far in Iceland

So here I am in Reykjavik – a town not even the size of Swansea where over half the population of the Icelandic nation resides.

And the others .. are they ‘tourists? I don’t think that is the right label. Only adventurers, romantics, poets, and other oddballs and misfits would come to an isolated island in the far north where a summer day of 15 C is considered pleasantly warm. Hardly a holiday – unless you like relaxing in a refrigerator while all your friends are getting a tan in the sun back home.

Me? I spent this past winter in a tropical hothouse were 30+ C was the norm, every day. I was due for a change in climate.

So who are the Icelanders? They’re the bunch of misfits that sailed from Norway a thousand years ago and settled this barren outpost. And a thousand years of inbreeding is quite evident. Light blue eyes, blonde hair, and a sligtly pudgy physic is the norm. Yes, they all look related to each other. And they are.

So we’re all misfits here. Old misfits and some newer arrivals just passing through.

Icelanders are typical Northern Europeans. – crusty on the outside but quite warm and friendly once conversation is initiated and contact is made.

People like to drink here despite a social stigma attached to alcohol. Beer was only legalized 30 years ago and there is a radio station broadcast here (in American English) of testimonials by reformed alcoholics – 24 hours a day! I’m looking forward to this weekend.as Reykjavik has quite a party reputation. Hope I survive it.

Language: Islandic is an old Norse language. Basically Viking tongue.. But English is the second language and virtually everybody can speak it. And speak it very well. Better than most of the working class English I dare say.

Whale watching tours is big here – despite the fact that Iceland is one of the few nations that still hunt whales. But I was assured by one whale watching tour guide that only 40 some Minke whales out of a population of some 60.000 are killed each year so its not to worry.

Think I’ll hang out here for a few more days before heading around the South-West coast to my last port of call before pushing off to Scotland.

Until later,

Simon

P.S. Made a short video clip of my trip here - will post it soon.

Hello from Reykjavik

After three weeks and a day I arrived in Reykjavik, Iceland on Wednesday 13 August. I have to admit, it was the longest and hardest sea voyage I have ever undertaken.

Had the winds followed their normal patterns I should have arrived here a week earlier in good health. But that was not to be.

After the first week of light winds and sunshine the party came to an end. The headwinds began. They blew with very little interruption for two weeks, defying wind pilots compiled on observations taken for over a hundred years over for that time and location.

I went over every possible cause and came up with only one reasonable explanation: I was cursed. The gods, for whatever reason, had decided to throw a wobbly in my life (not the first time I might add).

I must have sailed well over two thousand miles tacking back and forth, bashing against and wind and current to get here. Every day I would tell myself that it could not go on forever and tomorrow it would turn around. But that day never came (till yesterday when I was within a hundred miles of Iceland).

At times my spirits were in a dark hole. The cold and lack of sunshine didn't help. On a few occasions I almost packed it in, tucked my tail between my legs, and veered off to Scotland instead.

But there's something inside me, an awkward contrary creature perhaps, that fights all the harder when fate lines up against me. So I defied the gods (as usual) and slogged on.

Reykjavik is a very funny place. More later.

ready to run

Looks like tomorrow is time to fly the Noddy Bay nest.

I've been gifted special glove/mitts and wool socks for my trip knitted locally.

The water hear smells and tastes fine. I wonder why it's so yellow? But I've been reassured that nobody has died of it yet.

According to the latest iceberg reports - if I don't run into one in the first three days I should be in the clear. I do hope to get some good pictures of them though - at least one big one.

See you guys in Iceland with a full report (and some pictures)

until later,

Simon

Video better but no there yet

I edited and put together chapter 1 an 2 but it still seems squished a bit. Back to the drawing board! I'll try a different format later but for now it will have to do.

Still in Noddy Bay with a likely departure for Iceland this Wednesday.

till later,

Simon

Vinland & Newfoundland Run (non-squished)