Our first two legs will be aboard the famous Shinkansen trains.  Also known as “bullet trains”.

Many countries have developed high-speed rail to connect major cities, including Austria, Belgium, China, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Poland, Portugal, Russia, South Korea, Spain, Sweden, Taiwan, Turkey, United Kingdom,  and Uzbekistan.  Japan’s Shinkansen network had the highest annual passenger ridership (a maximum of 353 million in 2007) of any high-speed rail network until 2011, when Chinese High Speed Rail network surpassed it at 370 million passengers annually.  China has 22,000 kilometres (14,000 miles) of HSR as of end December 2016, accounting for two-thirds of the world’s total.  The United States, by comparison, has only one high-speed train, the Acela Express, which runs up to 150 mph (241 km/h) on several separate sections of track in Massachusetts and Rhode Island.  When it comes to transportation, we bow down to our Chinese and European overlords.

Shinkansen

Over the Shinkansen’s 50-plus year history, carrying over 10 billion passengers, there have been no passenger fatalities due to derailments or collisions, despite frequent earthquakes and typhoons.  If the train senses an earthquake, it applies the brakes.  Vigorously.  (Hang on!)

Compared to the airlines,  I had more foot room, plenty of room for my luggage, and there were electrical outlets at each seat for chargers.

Japanese Custom Alert:

Everyone talks in a subdued voice.  No one talks on a cellphone, except between cars… never in the car.  I’ve never seen so many people wearing white gloves while they work.

A truly pleasant mode of travel.  I’ll miss it.

So…

After two Shinkansen rides across Japan, a van ride through Hiroshima, and finally a brief ferry ride across Hiroshima Bay, we arrive at the docks of Itsukushima, also known as Miyajima.

Grand Torii Gate, entrance to Itsukushima Shrine.

When the tide’s out, people flock to the base of the Grand Torii for selfies, celebrations, or.. who knows?  As the tide comes back in, the people flee and the Grand Torii appears to float in the waters of Hiroshima bay.  This Grand Gate marks the entrance to the 12th century Itsukushima Shrine and the boundary between the spirit and human worlds.  More on that later…

Hotel Sakuraya

What a great little hotel.  Cozy, friendly, immaculately clean…  Perhaps different than what North Americans are accustomed to?  As opened the door, we noticed that the entryway was about 2″ lower than the rest of the room, with a little step up to the main room.

Japanese Custom Alert:

It is customary (read that as “mandatory”) that you take off your shoes when entering someone’s home, a ryokan, pretty much any carpeted area, any elevated platform (think shrines or temples), and even certain areas of restaurants.  

We took off our shoes, left them by the door and stepped up into our room.
My feet felt the tatami mats.  Soft, cool tatami mats.  After a long day of travel, they were exactly what my feet wanted, no… NEEDED to feel.

I should hasten to add that the tatami mats are those pale green woven straw mats (with the dark green edges) that make up the entire floor.  They appeared to be less than an inch thick.

  Rooms that are completely covered with tatami mats are called zashiki, i.e. “room spread for sitting”.  Tatami mats are made in several different sizes, with the length ALWAYS exactly twice the width.  Why?

Japanese Custom Alert:  

Because… well, rules.  

It’s beginning to appear as if the Japanese have rules for EVERYTHING.

Auspicious Tatami Layout

In the Edo period (1603-1868) there were strict rules about how the mats were to be arranged for different occasions, and more even more complex rules pertaining to exact seating arrangements.  (Does that remind anyone of our family Thanksgiving dinners?)  And wouldn’t you just know it… there were “auspicious” layouts, and “inauspicious” layouts.  In the auspicious layout shown above, the edges of the tatami mats form the letter “T”.

Our little room must have been at least a bit auspicious.  As I remember, I slept very well that night.

On the other hand it may have been a little bit inauspicious, too.  Scroll back up.  Check out the table and “chairs”.  With seven decades of hard use and little preventative maintenance along the way, my old bod just doesn’t want to bend quite enough to scootch the “chair” under the “table” for more than 01:17 on the stopwatch before I simply must… (dramatically) scream out in my pain and anguish as I attempt to straighten my old legs.  Of course being in Japan, and trying to respect some of their cultures, I have to scream very respectfully and quietly in an “in-door” voice.  Not very fulfilling or satisfying.

Deer pays its respects in the early morning light.

This is a big day in  the greater downtown area – and I key this in with tongue-in-cheek – with only a smattering of locals, a few tourists, and the ever present Miyajima deer.   As you can see, it’s a quiet little town, with narrow streets and very few cars.  There aren’t even any traffic signals.  Everybody just drives “politely”.  As it should be.  The only auto traffic that I remember at all, were a couple of tiny box-trucks coming off the ferry to make some deliveries.  Quite different than the hustle and bustle of the city of Hiroshima just a couple of km across the bay.

Miyajima’s atmosphere seems to be perfectly designed for relaxation.

Japanese Custom Alert:

The Japanese take “tidy” to whole new levels, even though one rarely sees a trash can.  See any deer pellets?  No?  You’d have to look fast.  Whenever a deer drops a load, a shopkeeper appears immediately with a scoop and little broom to take it away.

As an aside, downtown Tokyo is also just this clean.  It occurs to me that “spotless” is a minimum sanitation requirement for this whole country.

This narrow street between some shops and the beach is a veritable belt-line of beggars.  Winnie and I typically deny food to animals like this.  It’s not because we’re mean.  We simply prefer that they don’t forget how to forage for the healthy stuff in the forests and not become dependent on human donations of candy bars, etc.

City of Miyajima, looking from a courtyard across the Onoseto Strait towards the city of Hiroshima.  The Five Story Pagoda is easily recognizable on the far left side of the image. Heck, it’s is also easily recognizable from anywhere in Miyajima.

Across the Strait, on the right side of the image is a huge white pointy-topped building that seems walled off from… what?  Outsiders?  Although it totally dominates the Hiroshima mountainside, no one knows, or will say, what it is.  Some imply that it might be a religious sect (what many would call a cult) and then abruptly change the subject.  I haven’t found anything at all on Google.

It’s a mystery that still has my curiosity piqued.

Any photo-detectives out there who could help me figure out what this place is?

Who?  What? is this…

The walls in front kind of creep me out, for some reason.

Five Story Pagoda 

The Five Story Pagoda was constructed in 1407.  Well done Japanese Artisans!  It is because of you, and your fifteenth century craftsmanship, that the pagoda survived the atom bomb blast that leveled Hiroshima across the bay 610 years later.

I read somewhere that it’s architecture represents a traditional Zen Buddhist design, jazzed up with those more traditional Japanese flourishes on the roof lines.  I liked it.  You?

Five Story Pagoda, aka the Goju-no-to pagoda.

The Five Story Pagoda is 91 feet tall.  Wouldn’t that be more like eight or nine stories?  It is still a revered and quite active religious site and, thus, is not generally open to the public.

I love this concrete lantern in front of the Five Story Pagoda.  They are located, seemingly, all over Miyajima, especially at shrines and pagodas.  They are dedicated to prayer for the help of gods.

Pathway to Itsukushima Shrine…

The entire island, including the Shinto Shrine Itsukushima,  has been considered sacred for hundreds of years.  Thus, the island was originally considered “off limits” to commoners.  Sometime around the fourteenth or fifteenth centuries, commoners were finally allowed on the island.

The shrine, itself, is built on a series of piers.  When the tide is in, both the Grand Torii Gate and shrine appear to magically float upon the surface of the water.

As I understand it, retaining the “purity” of the island and shrine has always been of the utmost importance to the Shinto priests…

Japanese Custom Alert:  

As of 1878, both death and birth are hereby prohibited on the island.

Even today, in the year 2017, pregnant women have to leave the island for the mainland as they near term.  Terminally ill people, and the elderly whose passing is imminent, are also required to leave the island.

Itsukushima has a main shrine and several secondary shrines, all connected by these beautiful red/orange corridors. These corridors and shrines are all built on piers to keep them “high and dry” as the tide comes in.

The tide was, indeed, coming in.  I paused for a few moments for one of those deeply personal, self-reflective moments… I stood and quietly watched as seawater slowly advanced, filling the bay.  It was a lot like watching myself from a distance, and seeing all the things that I’ve done, seen, and experienced slowly fill my life like the incoming tide.  It’s been a good life.  I walked away happy and at peace.

These zig-zagged paper strips hanging over an entrance are called Shide.  They keep ward off evil spirits and keep bad luck from entering.

Sunrise through the cherry trees.

I was walking along a neighborhood path early in the morning, saw this, squinted, and shot-on-impulse.  As snapshots go, I kinda liked it.

Tahoto Shrine (Two-storied Pagoda)

This pagoda is said to have been built in 1523.  I thought the square first floor, topped by a round second floor was quite unique.  The Buddha of Medicine was worshipped here, but this particular ceremony/rite was moved to Daiganji Temple following the Meiji Restoration (1868).

A Shinto priest on his way to work.

(Nice boots.)

A few minutes later, another Shinto priest crosses the same bridge, on his way to work.  Notice jefe Evan Pike brazenly shooting away in the background.

After the priest glanced to his left, I got this shot of Evan acting really nonchalant…   priest?  what priest??

Temple courtyard

Had to get a refresher from my friend, Evan Pike*, on this architecture… The round things represent the family seal.  The gargoyle is half fish and half some other kind of animal/god that protects against fire.
Rationale:  if the fish is swimming that high, there must be water that high, thus fire cannot exist beneath the water and the house is protected.  Addendum:  that mean daemonic thing is there to ward off evil spirits.

Makes sense to me…

Sundown at Miyajima’s Torii gate.

*With thanks to Evan Pike, www.evanpike.com and www.japanphotoguide.com

G’night for now…

Up next, Hiroshima.

Alaska Visitors Center, Anchorage, Ak.

This authentic sod-roofed log cabin, on the corner of Fourth Ave. and F Street in downtown Anchorage, houses the Alaska Visitor Center. To me, it symbolizes the very cornerstone of life on the Last Frontier. How appropriate to start this photographic adventure right here.

I’ve seen many fellow travelers steam forward head down, on a goal-oriented mission. I’ve been guilty of that. In most of my travels, though, I’ve been quite fortunate to be able to meet and engage some of the local folks. All kinds of ’em. I was sitting on a bench opposite this fellow in downtown Anchorage and as I am accustomed to doing, I engaged him with eye contact and a smile and started a conversation.
Then, I shut up and listened to the man talk.
I learned that when he was a young boy, he and his dad killed a grizzly together. He related how clear his memory of that was… he aimed for the head, and his dad aimed for the heart… He showed me the bear claw that he had taken from it.
I learned that he spent four years in the Army.
I learned that he had been a fireman for twelve years and had fought forest fires in Alaska, Washington, Oregon, California, and Idaho.
We split a hot dog.

Onward, Through the Fog!

Grizzly Bear Talisman

The ride from the hotel to the airport shows the support most Alaskans have for the Iditarod, and builds my excitement for the adventure to come.

All my photographic life, I’ve dreamed of mingling with, and capturing, Alaska’s grizzly bears up-close-and-personal.  And thanks to my good friend, Art Wolfe, here I am at curbside, heart rate only slightly increased.  So far.

Winnie, Bob, Art, Linda, Vaughn, Steve, and Kevin.

Our welcoming committee at the Bristol Bay Sport Fishing Lodge

(Wow, what a nice place!)

The DeHavilland Beaver flight deck in all it’s glory

Aboard an aircraft out of the pages of history and still flying all over Alaska and Canada today is a thrilling way for an old retired pilot to go out to the photo shoot and back every day.  Early each morning we would fly out of camp, look around, and find how far upriver the salmon had progressed since the day before.  Then we’d find a large pond in the tundra nearby where the Beaver would drop us off for the day.

Um, did anybody hear what time pick-up was?  Anyone?  Ferris

A brief quarter-mile hike brought us to the river… and these four fishermen.

Peaceful Coexistence

Three French fishermen and one big ol’ bruin sharing the wealth of the stream.
It occurs to me that it’s true:  All you need in life you can learn in kindergarten.   You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the old boar thought about about the three new-comer’s fishing techniques.  Did he just snort and disdainfully walk away, or did I just imagine that?

A few minutes later we were attracted by some splashing just across and down-river… This young Mom and her single cub were looking for breakfast.

Wait here, son, while Mom goes to fetch our breakfast.

Mom is trying to chase some of the salmon into the shallows for easier picking.  She probably learned this style of fishing from her mother.

The next day…

…we got dropped off in a small lake about two miles away from the river and began our trek across the tundra.  Walking 0n tundra in the chest waders (they’re required to ford several streams and the river itself several times), carrying all your earthly photographic possessions on your back to get to the “extraction point” is not a “walk in the park”.  It’s like walking across a seemingly endless  soft mattress with rolls and tucks pulling at your boots trying to trip you, then slogging across the river.  The hard work was rewarded, though, when we spied a big female just up the hill from our position.  At first glance, it appeared that she was watching us approach. In actuality, she wasn’t seeming to be paying that much attention to us.

Then we see this little blonde head pop up next to momma.

A Watchful Eye

Mom keeps a watchful eye as she scans the tundra, danger is everywhere.

Mom sees another bear  about 1 km away, slowly but steadily, coming their way. It’s a big male.  Mom tenses up, her back stiffening, her eyes, ears, and nose at full attention. Sensing Mom’s unease, the little blonde cub automatically tenses up too, and ducks down behind a little hillock.  Mom knows that a boar will readily kill and eat her cub.  That will eventually throw her back into estrus allowing him to breed her, spreading his genes ever further among the populace.   Genetics in action, producing the biggest, toughest, and most likely to survive bears.

No decisions to make for Mom, it was all very clear…  She immediately began to lead her cub away to safety. (Good momma!)

We’ll be leaving now…

Just Leaving

Turns out, we’re maybe a half-mile from the river.  Gavriel “Eagle eyes” Jecan spots seagulls over the river.  Good news.  Where there are seagulls, there are shredded fish… and Bears!

In our excitement to be nearing the river and a potential bear to photograph, we are focused on the ridge ahead where we could finally peek over the crest and see if the seagulls and Gavriel were right…

I paused for a moment to catch my breath and turned to look for Winnie.  There she was, about 25 meters behind me, walking by the same brush that I had just walked by.  The brush with the big brown bear behind it.  That brush.
I’m sure and certain that I looked hilarious with all my animated arm-waving, gesturing, and pointing.
And ms Winnie didn’t look as much amused… as perplexed.  When she finally got within whispering range I yelled, in a whisper, mind you, Bear!  Behind!  Brush!
She got the message.  And instead of doing anything stupid like running, she walked about ten more paces, turned, and set up her tripod for a few Up Close and Personal shots.
Well played, Winnie.

After very quietly easing up close to Winnie, I got to get a little more intimate with this good-looking, healthy, big blonde girl.

then… the PORTRAIT OF THE DAY!

Life is good.

This has been one of the best years for blueberries in the Kenai area.  This big girl loves blueberries, they’re staining her snout!  Berries and salmon, salmon, then back for some more blueberries.  Ahhhh.  It’s a good life.

Yea!, our little party has enjoyed an invigorating morning walk, several brisk (and successful) crossings of the river and tributary or two, and we’ve finally arrived at our destination for the day: the river chock-full of salmon and bear.

Oh, great.  Another cousin fishing right here???

Hmmmm, what’s this thing?  Doesn’t smell like salmon, so I’ll just move along.

Travel tip:  Never drink flavoured coffee while sitting on a gravel bar in bear country.
Just sayin’…  

She’s a good hunter.

Multiple targets in sight…

Locked on…   and those Claws!

Chase ’em into the shallows!…

and snorkel if ya have to…

HA!

Salmon.  It’s what’s for dinner!

But first, while Winnie and her folks were having breakfast, I strolled a couple hundred meters over to Vík í Mýrdal town’s black volcanic beach for a preview of the day’s coming attractions, where I shot an image of those spires in the distance.

Those spires are basalt pinnacles in the ocean just off the cliffs of Reynisfjall.  Legend has it that they were formed when two trolls attempted to drag a three-masted ship to shore. The plan failed when the sun came up and turned the trolls into rock pinnacles, stranded just off shore forever.

Unlike this particularly warm and sunny day, the sea around the Reynisdranger is often quite stormy and rough.  For this reason there is a monument to the memory of drowned seamen there on the beach.  Sadly, I didn’t see a monument to the trolls.  Too bad.

Our first stop of the morning was Halsanefshellir cave.  Talk about easy access, we drove into a sparsely populated parking lot, parked, and strolled about 50 meters… and there it was.

Halsanefshellir cave

Halsanefshellir Cave is a vaulted cavern on the beach of Reynisfjall.  It’s made from columns of basalt rising from a black sandy beach and was created during the volcanic eruption that formed the island oh… maybe about 100 thousand years ago.  Or so.  Does this remind anyone else of a pipe organ just off the apse in a cathedral?

Oh, and that beach everyone’s on?  When the weather is normal (bad) that beach can be gone in a few minutes as tides around here can reportedly range up to six or seven meters.  That’s a lot of water movement, and no matter how strong a swimmer you think you are, you’re not going to beat the tides, winds and/or undertows here in this part of our hemisphere.

But enough of this.  I can see Dyrhólaey (Door Hole Island) off in the distance.  And it beckons..

Four legs on the ground, one spindly one off the edge.

For many years, boats were launched from Dyrhólaey when people still rowed out to sea to fish.
I sat on a rock on the edge of the cliff and pondered that a bit… Row boats?  Today was a magnificently beautiful day by Icelandic standards… any season, bar none.  (Immediately prior to our arrival a few days ago, though, one of the locals told me that they had experienced fifty (50) consecutive days of high winds and rain.)  I tried to imagine these tough sailors rowing heavy wooden boats through the wind, rain, and waves to GO fishing, instead of running from the storm…  I’ve been in some pretty rough seas before, but not in a dang wooden boat!  Criminy!  I imagined some souls quaking, and swallowing their fear to press on, to satisfy the need to feed the family. Inwardly, I wondered… “Would I do it?”

Would you?

Icelanders place great stock in preserving nature, both by word and deed.  Dyrhólaey was declared a nature reserve in 1978 to protect both the landscape and the ecosystem of the area, particularly the birdlife which is rapidly dwindling due to climate change.  During May and June, access to the area is strictly limited due to the nesting season.  If you go off-trail, be very careful where you step.  The locals carefully harvest small amounts of eider from the ducks nesting on the ground, always leaving some to protect the eggs and, later, the chicks.

I would hesitate to call Iceland a nanny state…  There are no fences on the edge of the cliffs.  One may step as close as desired, sometimes closer than even kinda-good sense would allow.  (I don’t do that.  But, WINNIE does!)

Now.  Doesn’t this look more relaxing?  A lot more safe than that dang daredevil Winnie?  Just leaning back in a cool breeze, taking in the warmth of the sun… eyes slowly closing from the brightness.. my head nods..

Just a couple of years ago, a couple inadvertently trod upon some of those crumbly million year old rocks and… well, birds and crabs gotta eat too.  Darwin smiled a sad smile.

A lighthouse was built on the promontory in 1910.  Trivia Alert!  The present structure (est. 1927) has the largest lens of any lighthouse in Iceland.  Why anyone would want/need to know that, I haven’t the vaguest idea.  But now, you and I do.  Off to the bars to win some bets!

Well, shunning common sense, I headed toward “The Edge”, on hands and knees, to shoot some Kittiwakes…

Shooting the Bird(s) and Fresh Seafood, Iceland Style!

Today, we’re gonna get rowdy and SHOOT THE BIRDS.  A lot of birds.  Then for a nice on-board fresh seafood buffet like you’ve never been to before.   Did I say “fresh”?  Oh, baby!

Our ride for the day:

The Saerun – Das Boot

I was so busy exploring and shooting some pics that I didn’t even notice the plywood covering one of the windows!  And now that I look a bit closer, she’s got a few minor dents in her hull, too.  Had I noticed this before cast-off, I might have had a few second thoughts.  Nyahh.  They’ve probably got some life jackets.  I hope.

Bird hunting along the rocky cliffs…

This cliff face was just full of nesting shags.

As long as I was in Iceland, I wanted to shoot some birds.  The pic above is what all those folks with camera-phones and inexpensive point-n-shoots will probably get to look at upon their return home.  Interesting?  Yep.  Pretty?  Yep, again.  But I wanted to be able to see them a bit more up close and personal.  So…

…I packed my camera gear and lugged it most of the way across the world.  I was really glad that I made the effort, because I got to see those beautiful avians mostly “up close and personal”…  Hope you enjoy these bird shots as much as I do.

First, The Shags:

The European shag, or common shag (Phalacrocorax aristotelis) is a species of cormorant.  It is distinguished from the great cormorant by its smaller size, lighter build, thinner yellowish bill, and in breeding adults by the crest and metallic blue and green-tinged sheen on the feathers.

The European shag is one of the deepest divers among the cormorant family.  Shags have been shown to dive to around 45 meters (148 ft).  When they dive, they jump out of the water first to give extra oomph to the dive.  European shags are preponderantly benthic feeders**, i.e. they find their prey on the sea bottom. They will eat a wide range of fish but their commonest prey is the sand eel.

** Like politicians.

The Good News – It breeds on coasts, nesting on rocky ledges or in crevices or small caves.

The Bad News – Their nests are terrible looking (and smelling) heaps of rotting seaweed or twigs cemented together by the bird’s own guano.

This next bird has guano (aka: poop, birdshit, etc) all over it’s back from those damned upstairs neighbors who just don’t seem to care.

Attention paparazzi aboard the Saerun:  No pics of my chick please, I’m trying to get it down for a nap!

This chick was born naked.  No feathers, no down, nada.  It’s taken (probably) about two or three months for it to get this fuzzy and fluffy, and is almost ready for fledging.

Next, The Kittiwakes:

Black Legged Kittiwake

This is a pretty little bird although, like the shags, it’s not overly mindful about sanitation around the house…  And like the shags, these birds build their nests on rocky cliffs over the water out of… yep.  S.O.S.  Seaweed, twigs and grass, and… bird cr@p.

Time for a Kittiwake Siesta

Apartment living, Icelandic Kittiwake Style

Third, the Fulmar:

 Northern fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis)

Although the fulmar reminds me of a gull with granny glasses, it’s really more like the petrels we watched in Antarctica.  And to a certain extent… to the salt-water iguanas we got to see in the Galapagos Islands on another adventure.   These birds spend a substantial amount of time at sea slurping up plankton, tiny crustaceans, and tiny fish near the surface.  One can imagine the volume of salt water that they ingest!  They retain much of the H2O systemically, and use their “de-salinization” glands in their beaks to spit the concentrated salt (and some water) out these tubes on top of their beaks.

I believe that these birds generally mate for life.  And since the perfectly shat-upon cliff dwelling is so hard to find and get fixed-up just right, many times a pair will split up… one stays home and guards that perfect “Home-Sweet-Home”, while the other goes out to sea for a grocery trip.  Then they switch roles.  Cool, huh?

Fourth, The Puffins:

And now to “shoot” some of those cute little Puffins (with my Canon, of course).  I love these cute little birds.  With that highly specialized and colourful beak, they’re sometimes called Sea Parrots.

Click here for a neat little movie clip about puffins from National Geographic 

55 mph, flat-out, just above the surface in ground effect

The range of the Puffin includes the whole North Atlantic, including Iceland which has one of the world’s largest colonies.  They lead a  rather solitary life during the fall and all winter, living alone on the surface of the North Atlantic just bobbing around, swimming, feasting, and sleeping.  They’re excellent swimmers, and use their stubby little wings (a “compromise sized wing” for swimming or flying) to dive down up to 60 meters in search of herring or sand eels (Mmmm sand eels, their fave).  Once airbourne, if flying, the little speedsters are fast, 55mph, but not terribly maneuverable.  While at sea, they usually “land” by crashing head-long into a wave crest.  While on land, they usually attempt a belly flop, but end up… well, End-Over-End.

Thinking back, if I’d had to crash land somewhere after Every take-off… I probably wouldn’t have become a pilot.

Puffins land on North Atlantic seacoasts and islands to form breeding colonies each spring and summer, where they live in burrows.  Suites, actually.  Many have two chambers, one for pooping, and another lined with grass and feathers for nesting and breeding, incubating their single egg, and hopefully, raising their single chick.

Puffin couples often reunite at the same burrow site each year. It is unclear how these birds navigate back to their home grounds. They may use visual reference points, smells, sounds, the Earth’s magnetic fields—or perhaps even the stars.

Bath Time

Ahhh, I always feel so much better after a brisk, refreshing bath.

Seafood !

And now, for something to eat:

After an exhausting day of bird shooting, Icelandic Style with my camera, it’s time to re-stoke the fires behind my belt buckle.  I’m Hungry for some fresh seafood!

All you can eat seafood store

Oh, look.  The waiter has just placed our order…

…and Wow, it’s almost ready, now.

Yes, yes, that’s exactly what we ordered.

A brief wait while our order was “processed”, and voilà…

Dinner’s almost ready!

Dump it onto the table boys and girls, the “crew” is becoming restless…

Surely that cute little 16 y/o girl isn’t gonna gut this thing!  Eeewww!

Then one-half of a second and two flicks of a sharp blade, and

This is the result.  Fresh.  Seafood.  With a teeny bit of sal from la Mer….

Winnie ! ! !

and good night for now.

Reykjavik

Our second day’s adventure started with breakfast, of course.  It was actually quite the nice spread, and I have to admit there were a lot of fish dishes.  For breakfast.  And nothing smelled… well, fishy…  I think all the breakfast seafood that I sampled were still living in the ocean a couple of days prior.  Fresh fish don’t smell… well, fishy.  I think that I’m going to get accustomed to that quickly.

After breakfast we headed Eastbound out Hiway 36 with adventure in our hearts, the adrenalin inducing excitement of the unknown just ahead, a GPS that only speaks Icelandic, over Icelandic roads (many even paved), looking at signs we didn’t understand.  Let’s see, load the GPS with Pingviller or Mossbaer and that’ll get us out of town.  After that, we’ll just follow the GPS or map. No worries. 

Heading out of Reykjavik, one of the first things I noticed was the beautiful farmland.  The farms themselves appeared not only quite big, but certainly professionally run. 

The hills behind the farm are lava cinder, gradually being worn down by rain, wind, snow… and time. One can easily see where the greenery is creeping up the hill, and ever so gradually creating a bit more pasture for the sheep and horses that live here.  Patience, please… it’ll be ready in just a few hundred more years.

It seemed to me, that after passing three or four of the mega-farms, there would almost always be a country church

Ahhhh.  And if that scene wasn’t pastoral enough… it also highlighted those spectacular little Icelandic ponies peacefully enjoying the morning’s offering of lush damp greenery. 

I cannot fathom a trek through Iceland without making a bit more mention of those tough, tough little horses.

The breed was brought to the island in the 9th and 10th centuries by Scandinavian settlers.  Natural selection contributed a lot to the early horses .  Tough winters, starvation, and being used for food all contributed a lot to these horses characteristic durability and hardiness.  Now, natural selection has given way to Selective Breeding programs to keep the line pure and cleanly Icelandic.

Here are a few pics of some of those ponies now, Helen:

I’ll post a clip following this blog.

These are known as five gaited horses, two of which are typically Icelandic.  

The mane and tail are traditionally full, and although spirited and having lots of personality, they are quite docile around people.  They know no natural enemies.  

OMG Grette, did you trim your own mane again!?  Ghaaaa.

The Icelandic Government has prohibited the import of horses.  Period.  The purpose is to keep the Icelandic breed genetically pure, just as it has been since the 10th century.  If one of the ponies is sold to someone outside Iceland, that horse may never return to its native land ever again.  Ever

 Shoot low, they’re Icelandic!

Yield Right-of-Way.  No exceptions.

A bit later:

We’re way past Lugarvatn.  Aren’t we close?

We’re on 36.

No, we’re on 37, see there’s a sign right there

I thought we were supposed to be on 35 through Muli.  Are you sure that wasn’t 37 km to… um, somewhere, I couldn’t read it…

Ghaaaaaa!  We’re past Geysir and Strokkur!
NO.  WAIT.  I see steam coming from around that corner!  And there’s a tour bus out of Reykjavik! Yay, we’ve found Geysir!  Strokkur and Gullfoss gotta be somewhere around here…

The steam and hot water in the vicinity of Geysir and Strokkur is discharged through many acres of active fumaroles and geysirs. I thought it quite eerie looking and was surprised that, although sulfur abounded in the rivulets, streams and bogs, I don’t recall it smelling bad…

I did see a lot of elemental looking sulfur just laying in the bogs, rivulets, and around the fumaroles. I can certainly see how Jules Verne’s visit to parts of Iceland (just the ones I’ve seen, so far) inspired his book, “Journey to the Center of the Earth”.

And just around the corner, and up the hill, the highly touted Geysir.  Oh.  About that… can we talk?

The mid-Atlantic ridge cuts Iceland into two parts, drifting away from each other at the rate of about 2 cm a year, leading to earthquakes, tremors, and shifting the flow of magma and water (and everything else) beneath the surface.

Poor ol’ Geysir has been the victim of a few relatively recent earthquakes.  She’s been opened up several times by the shifting techtonics, each time erupting madly 70-200 meters high many times a day.  A few years later, only 100 meters every few hours… and then.. a few meters, maybe two or three times a year…

Thank goodness that Strokkur was just down the hill, and gushing hot water and steam up and out about every 4-5 minutes.  Turns out that the geothermal areas in Iceland are divided into high temperature areas within the volcanic zone, and low temperature areas outside the zone.  Geysir and Stokkur are both in the High Temperature zone with a base temperature of around 250 degrees Celsius (100 C is boiling).

We were warned (once) to stay on the marked trails.  I thought yeah, yeah, don’t make foot prints and blah blah blah.  Then my old ears caught the explanation… Some of the mantle on top of this geothermal area is quite thin.  One misstep might predictably lead a person to breaking through into some of the hot water.  One could break through for about a foot and get a horrible scalding burn on a foot… or break through for 10 meters?  A hundred meters?  Ouch!  Well, it wouldn’t hurt that long I suppose…

Geysir Primer

Strokkur,  holding it’s breath…

 

Here, the bubble’s surface is beginning to be breached by the hot steam.

Water and steam spout up through the middle of the bubble, with the geysir beginning to erupt more violently.

Ahhhh, relief!  (I think that she needed that.)

The shockwave sends the surface water outward through the pond…

Cooled, the water slowly drains back into the throat of the geysir as it catches its breath, awaiting more heat from below,

as the cycle repeats itself over and over again.  At least until the next tectonic shift.  And in Iceland, that could be tomorrow, or decades from now, who knows?

It was a long day today, the adventure spread over many hours and kilometers.  Well worth it to me and my fellow travelers, though!  The good news is the same as the bad news to a weary traveler: there’s plenty of daylight left to head on down the road toward Gullfoss.

Looking Southwest, toward Gullfoss Falls

Gullfoss and the surrounding area were made a nature preserve in 1979.  The area’s ecosystem is also protected, and it’s vegetation remains untouched.  Attempts are still being made every single day to minimize man’s footprint, to keep man-made structures to a minimum, and to not disturb the land and geological formations,

Pics from Gullfoss to follow…

Seljalandsfoss

Here, Winnie tries to get a first photo of Seljalandsfoss.  Unfortunately it was a very crowded day out here in the boonies, and she had to walk… yes, walk I say… almost thirty meters to get a pic without the hoards of tourists that abound in Iceland.  Will it be worth the hike?  Okay, how ’bout 10 meters?

Seljalandsfoss

 I went around the right side of the falls… most direct route.  My camera shooting finger just itching for a chance… Winnie went over the bridge and around the left side of the falls…  Can you see which way the mists are drifting?  To the left, haha?  Anybody?  Ferris?

The Thrill of Victory, and…

and the wetness of “de feet”, and de hair, and de clothes, and…

Winnie makes it behind the foss, the fun way!

Skogafoss

The ring was placed on the door of the local Skógar church, but was later placed in the Skógar folk museum.

Skógar Church

Drive up, park, and walk to the falls, or anywhere you’re brave enough to venture. Remember, this is not America, or even Europe.  There aren’t any fences between you and cliffs, waters, or even eternity.  Your choice.  I hope that you make a wise choice, Grasshopper.

 More Gold!  (Ms. Winnie has a heart of gold.)

Gullfoss

Gullfoss and the surrounding area were made a nature preserve in 1979.  The area’s ecosystem is also protected, and it’s vegetation remains pretty well untouched.  Attempts are still being made every single day to minimize man’s footprint, to keep man-made structures to a minimum, and to not disturb the land and geological formations.

Toss your camera rig on your shoulder and let’s head up the creek to see what it looks like looking back toward the Northeast…

Never would I have ever dreamed that I’d be taking vacation snapshots in Iceland… but I’m sure glad I made it to the party.

Time to pack up and make a run for the Hotel.  We heard that it was a 4 Star hotel.  I hope so.

 Ooh, check out that second shelf from the top.  They’ve got some, um… adequate scotches there.  I started my flight on the right side of the second shelf and only made it as far as the Monkey Shoulder Single Malt Scotch Whisky.  And the cognacs on the top shelf?  Righteous.  Their ‘little wine fridge’ had started off with names like Chateau neuf du Pape, Dom, Bollinger (champagne, Mr Bond?).

 While I was drooling on the floor in front of the scotch bar, Winnie (the Beer Hunter) found an interesting local bier that I thought, btw, was pretty darn good.

Onward, Through theFog!

Although it’s a little difficult, if you squint (a lot) and peer along the base of the glacier, you can see two people walking along the face… no, no, not those, the Other two!  I think I can see the tumultuous tourist crowds of… um… four adult people down there.

Okay, okay, If you don’t want to squint, let me zoom in with the ol’ Z-Key…  See ’em now?

I wonder… did they see the sign that suggested it was probably not a good idea to climb across the glacier?  Why, you ask?  Glaciers have crevasses, or cracks in the ice, that may only go down ten meters or so, or forty meters, or…

Oh.  And they have moulins, too.  Moulins are the holes or wells that drain meltwater from the top of the glacier to the base gravel.  I think that one should always avoid stepping into these, at least during the early part of your day, in order to continue enjoying your afternoon.  And your life.  If the fall doesn’t do you immediately lethal harm, you should be probably be aware that your badly broken body will more that likely be laying in water that’s 2 degrees Celsius.  The good news!?  Your consciousness and your pain’s not going to last very long.

Oh, did I mention quicksand?  No, really.  Quicksand forms when large blocks of ice break away from the glacier and melt on mud or sand.  It is not always visible, so the caution remains:  always walk on coarser gravel.  Sounded legit to me, so I stayed on the ruff stuff.

Thos clear ice is eons old, pure, except for a few germs that may have survived a few thousand years, and very, very cold.  I purloined (yes, blatantly stole) some this out of a bay in Antarctica a couple of years ago.  Loaded it into the floor of the zodiac and hauled it back to the ship to share with everyone, and that ice lasted for hours laying in a big sink.  That stuff’s so COLD… “How cold is it?”  …it’s SO COLD that a chunk will still be in your glass on your third scotch.  Maybe even more.
Your mileage may vary.

You know, I think that it’s almost time for me to check my own mileage.  I believe I’ll head back to the hotel to get a double scotch, get naked, get horizontal, and get some shut-eye.  In that precise order.

We got ice for our drinks today, but tomorrow, we’re gonna get rowdy and SHOOT THE BIRDS.  A lot of birds.  Then for a nice on-board fresh seafood buffet like you’ve never been to before.   Did I say “fresh”?  Oh, baby!

Until then…

As we turned, heading East towards the rising sun, the mountains had just started to catch a few rays to begin warming the cool, blue landscape.  Adios, PDX, we’ll be back way to soon, a little heavier, and a LOT more tired.

Washington/Oregon Wind Farms

I always enjoyed flying over Washington and Idaho… It kind of reminds me that getting a bit older and substantially more wrinkled isn’t such a bad thing.  These hills from 6 miles up look almost liked crushed velvet with soft earth tones delicately applied.  I can almost feel it’s softness…

Another advantage to riding in the front are the many World Clubs that “go with” the Business-1st ticket. “Free” food, booze, wi-fi, television, showers, etc.  (There ain’t no free lunch.)

At JFK… look at how tiny the El Al 747-400 looks hiding behind the Emirates A380.  I hope that Winnie gets to fly the A380 some day… one just never knows.

Then, hours later…

We’re shuffling off the jetway in Keflavik.  Bleary eyes.  The ol’ bod is hurting in places that formerly did not hurt.  Greasy faced.  Gaack, what’s that coating my teeth?  Is this the same day?

And we’re supposed to tour some kinda lagoon?  Can’t we just have a nap, instead?

The “Blue” Lagoon, just outside of Keflavik, Iceland

First comes a hot, naked shower in a room with 50 other men.  No bathing suits allowed.  Get over it.

And then… and then… into the mineral packed waters.  Ahhhhhhhh.

and now, a brief word from our sponsor, The Blue Lagoon:  The Lagoon’s algae is only found growing in extreme conditions of heat and pressure.

The lagoons geothermal seawater is part of an ecocycle where science and energy cohabit.  The seawater originates around 2000 meters below the surface of the earth (think of that as 20 USA football fields laid end-to-end, plus a little extra room at the end) and begins it’s filtering seepage upward at 240 degrees Centigrade (or 464 degrees Fahrenheit) cooling as it rises.  By the time it gets to the top, it’s cooled to 37-39 degrees (100f).  The flow completely replenishes its two million gallons of geothermal seawater every forty hours.  The minerals, silica, and algae in the water kill “common bacteria” (that’s a code word for E. coli, I’ll bet) such that chlorine is neither needed, wanted, nor dumped into the lagoon.  The high temps, salinity, algae, and silicates are touted as having significant skin protecting and anti-aging effects.

ThereThere are big wooden boxes filled with the healing silicates, other minerals, and algae.  Just scoop yourself out a few ladles-full and apply it to the portions of your body that you’d like rejuvenated!

k,thx,i’mgonnauseoneextraladle.  juscause.

I can feel it’s healing powers already!

And a little bitty bit for Ms. Winnie.

Winnie just needs a partial scoop, because she moisturizes regularly.

Apply, rinse, and repeat.  I feel prettier already.

And now, it’s time to head into Reykjavik and check out our hotel.

As we checked into the Icelandair Marina Hotel, I just happened to notice this little signpost in the hall (opposite the bar) that leads to the WC’s:

This gentleman  will “point” you toward the bathrooms.

The next thing we noticed upon check in were the hotel’s rather “Cheeky” signs around the hotel and in the rooms themselves asking you to “be nice”, chill out, and just go with it,..

You know, I think I’d look rather formidable in a Viking helmet.   Now if I could just get this thing off.  Whoa, I like the sword, too!

G & P like the Viking helmets, too.

Looks like I’ve started something.

Winnie takes the Viking faery by the horns…

She always was a “take charge” kind of gal…

Time to grab a bite to eat.

Maybe.  Maybe not.  We’ll see.

Perhaps something a little more mainstream…

A “small” Fish & Chips,

followed by…

It’s been a heckuva first day, and I’m thinking it’s not going to be difficult to fall asleep.  Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day.  G’night, all.          Zzzzzzzz.