i'm baaaack...

I made my triumphant return to San Francisco last night. Dropped Paddington off with my friends, where he's actually settling in pretty well, then took Leah to a yummy Senegalese dinner.

Today, I did my taxes and am starting the next fun phase: looking for an apartment. If you know of one in the city that allows dogs, let me know! After that, I suppose I need to look for work.

crater lake, AKA: MA:2 (Mission Accomplished:2)

AAKA: Or "how I got lucky twice, first by avoiding a speeding ticket, then by driving through rain and snow on slushy roads in a front wheel drive car, past the 'chains should be carried' sign, into the national park, where the snow only fell heavier, the temperature dropped well below freezing, the light was fading, the only other people were high tailing it in the opposite direction, I almost missed a head on collision with a snow plow on a curve, only to get into the park, but never see the lake, yet make it out alive and without getting stuck and only skidding once."

Here's a shot in the direction of where I believe Crater Lake lies. The snow banks were really high, and I ran out of road that still had tire tracks on it. There was a spot in the middle of the road where the minivan that passed me by earlier must have stopped for some time, as there was a rectangular shaped patch of wet street (no snow) the size of a minivan, yet surrounded by snow. I decided to turn around here, as it was already past 6PM and I really didn't want to get my car stuck out here.

Oh, and you're probably wondering about the ticket. Or if not, then I'll tell you anyway. I pulled off I-5 at Roseburg to make the 200 mile detour to Crater Lake National Park. I was being a little speedy, and I knew it, too, but didn't back off until I saw the cop ahead of me, who, when he passed me, put on his turn signal and turned around, lights flashing. I pull over and we go through the regular drill. For once I was neither belligerent or obsequious. He left me for a few minutes, but he never returned to his car, only stood behind it for a few minutes. I started running scenarios through my head. Maybe he was calling for backup and was going to search through all my stuff in the car. Maybe my "new" address didn't check out. Then a minute later, he returns to my car and says he's giving me a warning. Phew! I did my best to keep my speed in check the rest of the day.

camping out in eugene

Last night Paddington and I camped out in my friend John's backyard. This morning John loaned me his fisheye lens so I could have some Fun with Fisheye (TM pending). Here we see poor little Paddington, his head about three times the size it should be for his little body.

Around lunch time I took the dog downtown for some sightseeing. We drove to the top of Skinner's Butte (we would have walked if it were drier out today), where I saw the old mascot E buried in the trees. The O was fully exposed a little to the east of E, so I'm presuming it's more up to date.

Then, some tasty organic pizza, and we hit the road. I want to make Crater Lake today, and the snow level is down to 3000 feet. Joy!

yet another volcano

As if we didn't see enough volcanoes in Iceland (OK, actually, we really only saw one), I detoured out to see Mount Saint Helens. Unfortunately, the Windy Ridge road was closed for the winter still, so I had to satisfy myself with seeing the view from the main road from the west. (Dan and Heather said the Windy point view gives you a more raw perspective, since this is the side that Weyerhauser hasn't replanted yet, so all the devastation is still on display.

From this vantage, tho, you still can see the side of the mountain that exploded outwards. There's also a great shot of the volcano here.

shotless in seattle

I crossed the border back into the USA, Paddington in tow. I was a little worried if they questioned me about his residency status, since his shots, while up to date, were from north of the border, and everything that identified me pointed to the US, obviously. It seemed to me the perfect little snag that would hold me up, lead to a cavity search, or worse. Then the truck in front of me got the once over with the drug sniffing dogs, making me a little more leery and of course, nervous. Five minutes later, I'm at the head of the line and the guy barely looked at my passport, never mind asking about Paddington.

About two hours later, I'm at Dan and Heather's house in Seattle. We had a mellow couple of days together, which was very welcome. This trip has been winding down the past few days, and after Vancouver, with Paddington in tow, I'm trying to keep the excitement level to a minimum.

Tho, we did see Grindhouse, the new Tarantino/Rodriguez double feature. While the zombie half was cool in an over the top silly sense, the chase scenes in Tarantino's half were outstanding, better than Mad Max. I literally (yes, not figuratively) was on the edge of my seat, I got so caught up in it. We saw the movie at the Neptune, this great old theatre that still has a balcony.

Anyhoo, given the mellow nature of most of this visit, I neglected to take out my camera even once! So, to give you a little idea of who I visited, here are two pictures I took of Dan when we hiked part of Mount Rainier a couple years ago.

among the canucks

Vancouver is a pretty fetching city. I really love the cities along the west coast, from San Francisco (hell, even Santa Cruz) up to Portland, Seattle and now Vancouver (OK, the last three are not technically on the coast, but they are port cities). There's a cultured yet laid back vibe to them all that is a refreshing change from the frantic antics of east coast cities (I love New York, but it can be exhausting after a while).

I've been staying at a very cool loft right off Main Street near Broadway, a Mission-like area of the city (in that gritty, urban, gourmandizing, cultured sort of way). In the past, the building was both a brewery and a candy factory, so it's got a lot of good feng shui going for it.

Every meal I had out has been great. I ate at the Whip Gallery and Restaurant (which apparently used to be a big lesbian hangout and serves this amazing fried baramundi with yam fries on the side), the Five Point (a pub), the Foundation (vegetarian/vegan, typos on their their thoughtful quotes about power aside), and Nirvana (Indian).

As for sightseeing, on my first day, Paddington and I explored Stanley Park, the largest city-owned park in Canada. These totem poles are the most visited tourist attraction in BC. Then we walked along the Seawall up to and under the Lion's Gate Bridge, a couple of miles round trip. I'm a little rusty on the dog wrangling, so I didn't bring any water with me. I overworked the little guy, so when we got home and he inhaled some water, he actually threw it (and his breakfast) back up. Poor little guy. He recovered well, though.

The next day, we went to the beaches at Spanish Banks. I read for a bit, then Paddington mingled with the other dogs before we went home. I had dinner with my friend Phil from VMware and his girlfriend Fiona, which was a pleasant surprise. It's always good to have friends to eat out with; it's much better than eating alone (though it apparently has its merits).

Yesterday I did a little bit of the touristy thing, heading to Gastown, named for some dude Gassy Jack (no, not that kind of gas) who set up the first saloon in what would first be called Gastown, then eventually, Vancouver. As you can imagine, there are all sort of touristy shops in the area. After leaving one, I noticed a large group of tourists gathered expectantly on a corner. At first I couldn't figure out what they were waiting for or looking at, as there was no street performer or anything. Until I realized they were watching a clock on the corner steaming. I happened to arrive here just as the hour was turning, and caught the clock at full steam.

travels with charley redux

Before I left on this trip, a friend suggested I read Travels with Charley, by Steinbeck. I already had a few books with me, so I figured I'd either pick it up along the way, or just read it when I got back. Fast forward a couple weeks to Albuquerque, and Rich and Galen give me an old copy (a 75 cent Bantam paperback from the Fredonia, AZ, library) as a going away gift (along with a cool t-shirt Rich designed for Galen's reservation bicycling program, not to be confused with the Native American motorcycle club).

I've been reading the book on and off the past couple of weeks and it's quite good. Now, it seems, I'll be emulating Steinbeck as I'll be driving back to San Francisco next week with my dog, Paddington.

He's been staying up in Vancouver these past couple of years, and now it's my turn to watch the little monkey. I just hope it's not too hard to find a nice place that takes dogs.

northward, ho!

No, the subject line isn't some admonishment to a trollop to get her to walk a different street. I took the scenic route out of Missoula, up route 93 to MT 200 across the Flathead Indian Reservation, across the Idaho panhandle, into northeastern Washington state, finally crossing the border into Osoyoos, BC.

The day started with a hike in the Rattlesnake National Recreation Area, just north of Missoula. It was sunny and around 50 -- perfect for hiking. I was trying to hike up to Strawberry Ridge, to get a commanding view of the area. While reading the trail map, this older couple came by so I asked them some advice. They bickered -- in that manner that couples that have been together for a long time do -- about the best way for me to get there. I followed their instructions but never managed to find a trail up, only around the ridge. After a couple hours of hiking, I gave up and got in the car to start the day's drive. Still, it was the most exercise I've done since Iceland!

The reservation looked like it's in really good shape, with less obvious poverty than, say the Sioux reservations in South Dakota, from my purely subjective standpoint, and about 17 years' difference in time. The poverty is there, but just not as bad.

After leaving the reservation, I drove through numerous valleys and canyons. The Clark Fork (River) looked like glass in places, showing these beautiful reflections. I stopped numerous times to capture them, and it started to set me back with my arrival time.

Then I got into Washington State. By now, there was much less snow around, the temperatures rose a bit, and the ground got even greener. Now I drove along the Pend Oreille, but the light was flatter and the reflections not as enticing. I started another climb over another mountain range. I came across an area that had burned out back in 1988 -- over 32,000 acres, and all the dead trees were still standing. It was quite a sight. This was the same year Yellowstone burned, and my brother Paul and I drove out to South Dakota and saw where the Black Hills had burned.

Finding a place to stay was more difficult than I expected. My cell phone was roaming only, and I needed to be on the phone to talk to Leah and to coordinate my Vancouver arrival the next morning. So I figured I could use Skype instead, and call using my Mac. Trouble is, there are only a few small towns on highway 20 in Washington, each around 1000 people or so in population. I checked into a really ghetto hotel in Oroville, just south of the Canadian border. It was the only open hotel in town. Thankfully, I couldn't get any wireless signal at all, so I got a refund, filled up my gas tank (so I would hopefully not have to fill up across the border), the drove across to Osoyoos, BC. I stayed in a hotel with an apartment-like room, very similar to where Leah and I stayed our last night in Iceland. I cooked up some backpacker food and organic mac and cheese. The wireless connection worked great, and Skype performed pretty well.

I made it to Vancouver the next day in a little more than 4 hours.

this car goes to 101

One thing I never got to test was whether the Prius could break 100MPH. I thought maybe Toyota would have installed a governor in the car to keep you from burning so much fuel. I guess I should have figured that the display would obviously allow triple digit speeds, given that I could switch to metric speeds, but I never thought that deeply about it.

Anyway, while driving through Montana, past home of the reasonable and prudent speed guidelines, I finally got to push my Prius to its (or my) limits. Some people seemed to still go by the old (lack of) rules, and drove much faster here than anywhere else I've seen. So I gave it a shot, and broke 100! I got as fast as 103MPH before I backed off.

Oh, and for the record, I was driving downhill, so I used that momentum to help get my speed up.

among the grand tetons

I got lucky. Monday morning in Jackson started off grim, with rain and snow falling, though not accumulating. I persevered and drove up to the Tetons anyway. Since I had to give Yellowstone a miss on this trip, I figured I should see at least one of the big draws around here.

I drove up into the park, a few miles north of Jackson, and the sky began to clear in places. Despite it being around noon, meaning light for photography isn't the best, clear noon light was far preferable to completely overcast and snowing. It made for some nice reflections in the creeks and Snake River at times, but I could also watch snow clouds loom over various areas from a distance.

On the drive out of the park, I saw a bunch of cars and SUVs pulled over to one side of the road. If my travels in Africa taught me anything, it's that if you are in a wildlife prone area and you see vehicles parked, then something vaguely interesting is probably on the roadside. I wasn't let down. There were about a half dozen bison feeding just off the road. I've seen some before, in South Dakota and Colorado, and I was really hoping to see a moose finally. One of these days.

Later on, driving in southern Montana, I saw a larger herd of bison feeding in a pasture next to the interstate. They were on the other side of the highway though.

frost heaves

... and other road signs seen the past couple of days. Apparently frost heaves are problematic in Idaho, and I take them to mean that the roads are susceptible to cracks from frozen soil breaking through.

Then there were two exit signs listing the following town pairings:

Divide
Wisdom

and

Anaconda
Opportunity

I also saw a Halliburton property in northern Colorado, near the Wyoming border. I didn't stop, so it was hard to say if they were getting ready to relocate to Dubai too.

so close, so very close

OK, so I knew that going on a road trip in winter would lend itself to some expected difficulties, mostly having to do with the weather.

So I'm sitting in an internet cafe in a music store in Jackson, Wyoming. (Anyone know the difference between Jackson Hole and Jackson? They seem to be used interchangeably. And yes, I'm too lazy to look it up right now.) It's raining and snowing outside. I'd love to drive up to the Grand Tetons, but I won't see much. I'll probably end up driving up there anyway, then turning around and heading into Idaho, as I need to loop around to get into Montana.

Sadly, the only way into Yellowstone is from the north, so that will have to wait for another trip.

things to do around denver when you're on a midlife crisis road trip

Sorry for the lag in updating. I laid low at my brother Paul's house for the past few days.

Anyway, I'll add pictures later (not that I took many recently), but here's a roundup of happenings over the past few days:

* Went with Paul and his boys Micah and Kayin skiing and snowboarding.
* Met with an old friend, Matt. Last time I saw him was like 15 years ago when he was tending bar at McCormick's.
* Ate brunch at the Bump and Grind, where the wait stuff were all drag queens.
* Watched the Colorado Avalanche save their necks for another shot at the NHL playoffs.
* Babysat Micah and Kayin while Paul and Carlene went out for a much needed date.

UPDATE: Added pictures of Matt and me, and Paul's family and me.

trail of tears

Traveling through western Illinois and Iowa almost drove me to tears, seeing the glorification of one right wing icon after another. Sights include Ronald Reagan's boyhood home (thankfully closed yesterday), right off the Ronald Reagan Trail; Ronald Reagan's birthplace; Herbert Hoover's birthplace; and John Wayne's birthplace (don't miss out on the 100th anniversary celebration there this Memorial Day weekend).

It makes me wish my sister and I did drive the 90 miles to the Mother Jones Memorial in southern Illinois last week!

the perks of global warming

The thermometer nearly hit 80 in Chicago the other day, making it warmer than even southern California, which I'm sure delights that smug bastard Dennis Miller but hopefully rankles that other smug bastard James Inhofe.

It made the visit to Chicago quite pleasant to an outsider like me, though Greg and Belinda's kids complained about the heat during our visit to the Lincoln Park Zoo. I'm sure the heat only made the pig smells worse, as Lily here can attest (clarification: Lily is not one of Greg and Bee's kids, but is the daughter of their friend Joel, whom we met in Lincoln part Sunday morning).

I finally got to wear shorts Monday, when Scott and I played some disc golf. We played at an actual small ball golf course, which was a first for me. The baskets were near the putting greens at each hole. On the plus side, we got to play on a well manicured (albeit muddy) course. On the downside we had to pay to play, and also support an industry that generally isn't known for its eco-weenieness, er, eco-friendliness.

That was followed up by beers in the Pontiac Bar's outside beer garden area that reminded me of Zeitgeist, only without the fence.

This last shot was taken with an apocalypto filter (TM pending). OK, not really, I actually shot through the window of Scott's friends' apartment, right next to the El (it wasn't as loud as you'd think, since the windows overlook a station, so the trains come in and leave slowly). But I think the haze gives you a better feel for the unseasonably warm and sticky weather we had.

i'm getting too old for this shit

A couple of weeks ago I lost an earring, one of the silver hoops I wear in my right ear. This piercing has been giving me trouble lately. During the winter, that hole got infected, and a lot of tea tree oil and Neosporin did the trick and cleaned me up. So maybe there's an underlying message I'm missing.

Fast forward to New York City, and apparently I lost the earring while putting on or taking off my hat. Fast forward a little more, and I keep forgetting to buy a new earring. Until I get to Decatur, that is.

I find the only tattoo and piercing place in town, thinking I can find an earring there. In the shop, when asked what I want, I say an earring for my ear. The response is "What gauge?" Turns out they only have jewelry for body piercings. Their selection is limited to a bunch of silver hoops of various gauges, but they're all the same style, with the ball covering the connector. It's not what I'm looking for so I'm steered to a place called The Shop, which turns out to be a head shop.

Back in my day, men used to buy their earrings at these fine establishments. I drag my sister there, ask for a hoop for my ear and the owner replies, "What gauge?" It's the same deal -- they have stuff for piercings anything *but* your ear! This woman then steers me to the mall.

Even at the mall, my choices were limited to "fine" jewelry stores, a small number of tiny, crappy hoops, or stuff for your nose, navel or nethers. Like I said earlier, I don't think I've got it in me to do anything extreme; I think it's a bit beyond me at this point in time.

buddy

Fearing further persecution by the border cops, I took my leave of Buffalo/Fort Erie and headed to Decatur, IL, where my sister Anne and my brother in law Andy live.

Last year they adopted a miniature long-haired dachshund whom they named Buddy, who shouldn't be confused with the other Buddy. His fighting weight is a portly 9 pounds, which makes him smaller than both of his cat friends at home, but that doesn't stop him from harassing the cats.

Here he is with his proud parents. Some of you may recognize the pride bandanna he's wearing. It used to belong to my dog Paddington, but he hasn't worn it in years. Buddy has pretty much the same amount of fanciness, only in smaller package, so I guess that makes him fancier, pound for pound. But not this fancy (I hope).

And damn if he doesn't give Paddington a run for the money is the cuteness department. (Why, yes, I'm biased and am deliberately trying to skew the results by posting a picture of the monkey when he was a little pup.)

across the border

So I took my chances and crossed the border twice. OK, so it was into Canada, but regardless, those border patrol agents can be surly and combative. And those are just the Canadian guards. The US guards take paranoia and suspicion to pretty high levels. There's a sense of instant antagonism more pronounced than with the police. Good thing I didn't spend 88 dollars (not so) lite for that bottle of absinthe.

I spent my first two nights in Buffalo, and the last in Fort Erie, Ontario. Lake Erie was largely frozen, other than the shipping lane. Large chunks of ice were piled onto the shoreline from various thaws and breaks. Ed pointed out the spot where he broke through the week before.

st patty's day

I figured since I blew off Mardi Gras in New Orleans (leaving a day early), I should come to Boston for St Patrick's Day. In retrospect, I have to say it was one of the more interesting adventures on my trip so far.

It all started off innocently enough. Stouts and tasty jambalaya at Petra and Eliot's apartment. Then about 10 of us took the T downtown, and the fun started. All the Irish bars in the area had lines of people waiting outside in freezing temperatures to pay upwards of $40 to walk inside and proceed to pay more money for drinks (the picture at left shows us debating the merits of collectively spending $400 to walk into a bar). We opted to find a different bar, the Living Room, which is more of a stock-broker type place that seemed to play as much (read: none) Irish music as we heard from the Irish bars downtown, only it was much less crowded and (arguably) more enjoyable.

The bar closed at 1; we left to catch a taxi. We walked all over the area trying to find one, without any luck. So, rather than walk 45 minutes in the cold, we opted to hide out, Lee-Harvey-Oswald-like, in a nearby theatre. A couple employees hassled us a little bit, and initially let us stay after we pleaded that we couldn't get a taxi, even after calling around for one. One even gave us a package of M&Ms as we were also starving.

Eventually we were thrown out, and went down the street to a pizza place, happy to see a place open at 3AM. We devoured two large pies in a few minutes. Then, strangely, we walked outside and caught two taxis immediately. Those of us staying at Petra and Eliot's (another couple and me), stayed up until 4 or so, drinking water and getting advice from ninjas.

What strikes me as strange about all this is how the city of Boston would not be more accommodating on this day. Mass transit doesn't run late at night, so you'd think they'd make an exception, especially for a winter night in Boston. I hear maybe it's the taxi cabal keeping the night all to themselves, at the cabbies' and our expense.

a quick stop on a busy road

I was driving down to Boston from Portland while talking to my sister Anne when I noticed the subtle colors lining the roadside -- green conifers, white birch and, umm, red leaves, all dusted with ice and snow. Seemed snappable, so on Anne's suggestion, I pulled over and took a couple of shots. I don't like stopping on highways so I made it quick, and of course had passed by better compositions that I didn't want to walk back to take. Still, this should give you something of an idea as to what it was like.

The drive between the cities was fine. The roads were wet but not slippery at all, given the weather from the night before.

heavy weather

Not to be outdone by a day of rain, nature decided to send a noreaster my way Friday night.

Earlier that day I took my snowboard to Sunday River and went riding during the day. I scored a lift ticket for $10; two guys were selling them out front, and for once I wasn't suckered into buying something useless. Ahh, snowboarding on the east coast. I forgot how the conditions are, umm, somewhat more challenging than in the west. Still, I managed to ride for a couple of hours and end on a good note (i.e., not falling on my ass and breaking something on the ice).

Afterwards, I drove back during the noreaster, which was just snowing heavily at that time. I caught up to it about 20 miles outside Portland, so it could have been much worse. One thing though: people drive like maniacs here in the snow and I'm surprised I didn't see any wrecks. I was cut off twice by people who would rather squeeze in between me and the car in front of me than wait to get in behind me, where no one else was.

Then I had a quiet night in with Kim and her housemates, during which time the freezing rain started. It wasn't looking good for me for driving to Boston the next morning for St. Patrick's Day. But the rain was unfrozen the next morning. We dug out our cars and I hit the road. Thanks for pushing my car out of the snow, Kim and Jean (yes, it's as strange as it sounds, but they insisted on pushing while I sat behind the wheel, keeping my thin-blooded carcass out of the way)!

the rain falls mainly in maine

Ahh, winter weather. On my drive up to Maine Wednesday, the temperature ranged between 60 and 70 degrees, cooling off the further north I drove. It was beautiful, and there was that palpable spring feeling in the air, something you don't get in California as the seasons really don't change all that much.

I knew it couldn't last tho. The next morning I awoke to rain. I drove out to Freeport; my cousin Kim, with whom I was staying, recommended I try to visit Wolfe's Neck Woods Park near there. (Originally, I wanted to visit Acadia National Park but the park is largely closed for the season; plus it was a longer drive than I anticipated.) The rain was torrential by this time. I drove through Freeport then out to the park only to find that it too was closed today. I drove up and down a couple of the finger-width peninsulas, hoping to find beach access some place. No such luck.

Tho I may have drawn the attention of Freeport's Finest. I was at the end of a road, near a private drive. I turned the car around, then got out to get my camera out of the back to keep ready. Someone was pulling out of a nearby driveway and stopped to suss me out, I guess. A few minutes later I was driving up the road and a cop car passed in the opposite direction. Then I turned a corner and a police SUV went down the same road. A minute later a third patrol car drove past me in the same direction as the other two cars. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I wonder if there was a connection between my presence and theirs. There was nothing going on on this road, so I can't imagine why else they'd show up. Maybe it was to welcome me.

Anyway, afterwards, I shopped at Freeport, including the LL Bean headquarters (kinda like a preppy version of REI), a small Patagonia outlet, then Ben and Jerry's for a waffle cone of Oatmeal Cookie Chunk. I'll be a very sad panda if they ever pull the plug on that flavor.

back in the USSA

We made it back to Logan only ten minutes late, even though our flight was delayed 1.5 hours. I was impressed. We didn't even get to see the end of the James Bond movie.

Once in Boston, we stayed with Petra (on the left in her picture) and Eliot (on the right in his), this couple I met on my last trip to Iceland while standing outside a club at 2AM in the midnight sun. On that trip, they graciously invited me along with them on their trip to Geysir and Gullfoss.

So, staying with them was a fitting end to our trip.

See you two for Saint Patty's Day this Saturday!

gullfoss

After tearing ourselves away from Geysir, we drove up the road (a mere 10km -- like Mývatn, incredible things are packed close together around here, too) to Gullfoss, the golden falls.

When I was last here, the weather was terrible, and it was summer. Today it was sunny, relatively warm (about 40F), and calm. No horizontal rain. So I managed to hike down to the falls proper.

After, I met with Leah up at the top, we snapped a few shots, and were on our way to the airport. The drive was quick, easy and dry. Of course, our flight was delayed an hour and a half, yet we somehow landed in Boston only 10 minutes late (amazing, for a 6 hour flight).

geysir

It's our last day, and we have to be back at the Keflavík airport, some 150km away over a mountain pass) for a 5PM flight. So we did most of the so-called Golden Circle tour, visiting Geysir and Gullfoss.

Geysir is the ur-geyser, which just means gusher. The original Geysir is no longer terribly active (apparently all the rocks and laundry soap put in there to impress visiting bigwigs with a big burst finally had an effect on it), so the spotlight has moved to the regularly spouting Strokkur, a few yards away.

What's cool is that right before the geyser erupts, it forms this dome of water as it comes up the spout. It was tricky to catch it, and I got soaked once when the wind shifted, but it was mesmerizing all the same.

I'm thankful to have had a motor drive on my camera, but its 3 frame per second rate was a little slow to catch the rapid changes in the dome. Someday I'll get a camera with a faster motor drive.

time off

A run in with some bad weather caused us to shift gears on our last full day in Iceland. We left Reykjavík after shopping and lunch, driving our little 3 door Yaris over a snowy mountain pass. It was a near blizzard but our studded tires and heavy luggage weighing down the back of the car kept us from skidding (too much) on the road.

We made it to our last guesthouse, Frumskogar, and given that we were the only guests, we were offered an apartment at the same rate as a double room. Perfect timing, since the weather was so miserable that we opted to just stay in and have a day off. We cooked our freeze dried vegan hiking food and settled in to experience Icelandic teevee for the very first time. The channel lineup was something like this:

1. Icelandic C-SPAN (nothing more glorious than an MP speaking at a podium, with two other ministers behind him.
2. Soccer, followed by golf.
3. Kids programming. Then Fox reruns (Melrose Place anyone?).
4. Icelandic home shopping network.
5. C-SPAN (the same one -- they have a very tiny parliament)
6. Icelandic home shopping network. (the same)
7. Icelandic home shopping network. (ditto)
8. Fox reruns. (yep, same bat channel)
10. Soccer or golf, only with a poor signal. (again, same channel)

hallgrímskirkja

No trip to Reykjavík would be complete without a walk past Hallgrímskirkja (Hallgrím's Church), the imposing church organ/space shuttle looking church looming over the capital.

I'm not sure what the circular installation is in the foreground, that I seemed to trample over to get this perspective.

Of course, we did forget to journey to the top of the steeple, opting to shop instead.

goðafoss redux

Again, what a difference a day (or three) makes. Ice melts quickly in Iceland. The temperatures were only a couple of degress Celsius above freezing, and yet the falls looked completely different this time around.

The sun directly behind the falls made it trickier to shoot this time around, however.

over the skálfándfljot

On our way back to Akureyri, as we drove on the bridge over the Skálfándfljot river (try saying that three times fast, or even slowly -- the accented As make an "ow" sound) from Goðafoss, Leah noticed the amazing light on the river. We parked and started shooting from the bridge.

What made the shoot exciting (and a little annoying) is that the bridge had only one lane, so we had to keep an eye out for cars, running off the bridge when one was approaching. Good thing we had distant views in both directions, as Icelanders drive like maniacs, no matter the road conditions LINK (skidding seems to add a little bit of excitement to their drives).

Once the light changed, we got back in the truck (well, a Suzuki Grand Vitara, which largely passes for a truck in these parts, but nothing like the tricked out larger 4WDs called Super Jeeps), and drove across the road back to Goðafoss.

hiking west of the lake up Vindbelgjarfjall

This mountain provides the most commanding view of the lake, where you can see the pseudocraters from the best perspective, as they look just like little mountains from the side.

We could have made it to the top had the track been open. Instead, we had to hike in 2.5kms each way, which ate up the time we needed to get to the top before needing to drive back to Akureyri and still stop at Goðafoss. We made it about halfway up the mountain before turning back.

dining, sleeping at the lake

Since it's off season (anything between October and May is pretty much off season in Iceland), there was only one place to go out to eat around the whole lake (about 35km circumference) -- and there aren't many places to eat here anyway. So, we took dinner at the Sel Hotel, arguably the only hotel and restaurant in Iceland run by a gay Spanish and Icelandic couple.

The food was delicious, and Adolfo, the Spanish guy, was great and got along swimmingly with Leah. Tho, Leah didn't enjoy the geyser bread (search for Iceland on the page), baked underground and heated geothermally. It's made with dark brown flour and lots of molasses. She would have preferred it hot, with some soy butter on it.

One night we found ourselves sleepless in Mývatn, so we put ourselves to sleep by reading the abridged Icelandic history in our guide books. I actually find it interesting, but the guide books don't seem to do it justice.

good early morning light

Lake Mývatn in the morning, Vindbelgjarfjall in the distance. What a difference a day makes!

I caught this as we were driving across the road for breakfast at the Cowshed Cafe. Two things need to be explained here. First, we took breakfast in the Cowshed Cafe (part of the Vogarfjós guesthouse, and included with the room). The cafe is literally in the cowshed, so the place smells of cow, and a window separates the cafe from the cows, so you can watch them being milked or just milling in their stalls. The smell wasn't too overwhelming, thankfully.

Second, since we were so far north, the sun never traversed directly overhead, so we always had good, angular light (when the sun was out, that is), so it always looked like early morning or light afternoon as far as the light is concerned.

Oh, and they're dairy cows. I got to drink milk drawn from the cow that morning, unpasteurized, but chilled. It was udderly delicious (but you saw that coming).