Day 1

The title of this blog has absolutely nothing to do with the mystical highway that crosses America. In this case, route 66 is my journey to the 66N line of latitude that marks the Arctic Circle and crossing it is one of the 60 things to do before I'm 60. 

www.downinflames.co.uk

Of course I could have achieved this many years ago if I had ever got around to participating in the 6633 ultra in Northern Canada. However, that would have cost me significantly more in terms of wealth and health. So I think this is the wisest option!

As with practically all my journeys an early start is involved and it has been getting quite boring trying to make an early start interesting to the reader. However, for this trip, I subconsciously decide to throw some jeopardy into the early start. I had set my alarm to give me enough time to shave, shower, get dressed, make a cup of tea and be in the car in plenty of time to get to the airport for 6:30. I had gone to bed quite late considering that was the time I had to get up but felt that 5 and 1/2 hours was still plenty. I wake at half past midnight and for some reason the first thought that enteres my head is to double-check what time my flight is. Because I do this, I realise that the the time I had aimed to get to the airport was the time the plane was actually taking off. 

What has prompted me to wake and think of that I do not know but whatever it is has saved the whole trip. I like to think it's karma looking after me as usual. 

The reset of the alarm only gives me another 45 minutes of sleep but 45 minutes is better than nothing and I wake at 01:30, do all of my stuff and get to the airport in plenty of time. From then on it is plain sailing or plane flying as it were. 

The flight touches down in Keflavik 15 minutes early. I manage to get through passport control get on the shuttle bus to the car hire place and am first into the building to check in and collect my car. This point of the trip proceeds to eradicate all of the time I have built up. It turns out that I am the first ever 'in the flesh' customer that my agent had dealt with. He tries his best and he is very calm, friendly and helpful. But it does take a long time, bless him.

As is the advice these days I walk around my Dacia Sandero, photographing every single speck I find. Following that I enter the first RV into Google Maps put the car into first gear and immediately turn the wrong way resulting in a full loop around the car hire complex. 

From then on there are no further navigation hitches, I manage to find the first RV without any trouble and it is a stop well worth making. Kolugljúfur is not the biggest canyon /gorge in the world, but with two waterfalls converging and creating some good white water to flow out of the canyon, it is certainly an impressive sight. 

 

There are plenty of people around to see it and back up my opinion and none of these is abusing the place by dropping litter, making a racket, swearing at their kids and such like, which is good to see. It is a tad damp though!

Mini Icelandic Gorge

There had been an interim stop before arriving at Kolugljúfur, and I am only mentioning it because of the strange fact that none of the staff seemed to speak their own language. Everybody spoke English even to each other and to other Icelandic customers. Iceland is supposed to be the third happiest country in the world and all the staff certainly seemed happy, especially when they relieved me of almost £10 for a small sub and can of red bull. It's not as though I wasn't expecting the high prices though! 

Following the visit to the canyon it is then full steam ahead to Dalvik, except it isn't. The early morning and lack of sleep has started to catch up with me and a side of the road power nap is certainly in order. 

 

A few pics from the journey

I arrive at the hostel to find the front door locked but with a phone number for Bjarni the host. He tells me how to get in side door and promises he will be there in a few minutes, which he is.

Bjarni was the guy who had told me a few weeks back that there was a minimum 3-day stay that I wasn't aware of. I didn't argue then because I was slightly intimidated by the email. And I don't argue in person because Bjarni turns out to be a really nice genuine bloke. We have a good chat which ends up with me inviting him to stay in Anglesey whenever he and his wife want to come over! He also gives me free run of the hostel as the only other guests who were due to arrive, had decided at the last minute not to come due to the apparent bad weather. The weather had indeed been horrible on my journey but it was no reason to cancel. 

Dalvik - not a lot going on. Don't need a torch though!

Once Bjarni has left me to fend for myself, I make my way down to the local supermarket where I pay through the nose for a few groceries for evening meal and breakfast. Also, I can only find very low alcohol beer which I made do with. That is until I spot a shop across the road, which has a special licence to sell stronger beer which is apparently the law in Iceland. I am annoyed with myself because I know this having seen the place on Google Maps when planning the trip. Strangely, for something involving strong beer, it had slipped my mind, so I am left with some very pleasant Viking IPA and some weak, pissy Tuborg. No prizes for guessing which of the two will be left in the fridge, when I leave.

View of the port from the hostel. You can just see the ferry over the roofs

Armed with a decent amount of food and beer. I sit down and feed myself and make a start on typing these notes. As I do that I'm wondering what time, if at all it will actually go dark and whether I can stay awake long enough to find out. That will be summarised in the next chapter.