Then it started sprinkling pretty steadily.  Since electronics and water don’t mix well, I quickly landed the camera in the split of someone’s driveway… Time to dry it out and drive down the road to another pull-off, and another launch.

We drove down our road a mile or so, launched the camera again, and got this shot:

Looking back, I discovered an interesting switch-back driveway up to a house with a beautiful view back across the valley.

I thought what a great place to live, especially with a river full of steelheads at the bottom of your driveway.

Time to land and head for the house…

We landed right next to the road, loaded up and headed for home.

Fog lifting as we cross the ridge line to home.

Home again, home again, but this time with a bird’s eye view of our twisty driveway.

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.

So…

We arrived Tokyo late last night.  Got a pretty good night’s sleep and today is our wisely planned “day off” to re-adjust our circadian rhythms after the flight over from PDX.  Long hours breathing the incredibly dry cabin air in an airplane can seriously dehydrate you and sap your strength.

Shall we just lay around the hotel to re-hydrate, and take naps?  The smart answer – Yep, hand me that water bottle.  Our answer?

NOPE.

The concierge at the hotel gave us a map (in English!) that showed a nice park just a subway ride away from our hotel.  Yoyogi Park is a large park in the Shibuya section of Tokyo, (right in our li’l old Shibuya neighborhood) located adjacent to Harajuku Station and Meiji Shrine.  Cool.  Our hotel is right next to one of the subway stations.  All we have to do is find the train to Harajuku station.  Except, there are no signs in English.

Japanese Custom Alert:

Very few people in Japan speak English.  Most of the tourists that we came across were other Japanese, with a smattering of Chinese, followed by “other” Asians. 

As Winnie and I are standing near one of the ticket machines looking completely lost and totally perplexed, a small voice with a bit of a British clip asks “Can I help you?”  Our English-speaking angel of mercy!  Turns out this is her third year of studying abroad in Japan and just happens to be on the way to the same park to meet her friends.  After briefing us on how to buy a metro ticket and how to calculate from the tables and charts how much to pay, we are on the way.
I just love it when an ill-conceived plan falls together for, seemingly, no reason at all.

Arriving at Yoyogi Park, we find that the weather has been a bit on the chilly side, and the cherry blossoms are still (maybe) a week away from full bloom.  Heck, I think that they’re pretty anyway.

We can see swatches of blue and lots of people just ahead…. We wander over to find out what’s going on.

It’s a PARTY!

It’s  the first day of SAKURA, the Japanese Cherry Blossom Festival and, from the looks of it, everyone has brought a tarp, lots of friends and family, loads of food, and gallons of beer and sake.

And as is Japanese custom, leave your shoes “at the door”.

I was just starting to acquire a twinge of consciousness telling me that the observance of social customs is quite important to the Japanese.

(I had no idea how much I would learn/discover about the importance of social customs when millions of people are mashed together into dense populations.)

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.  

Travel Tip:   Be alert and aware of our surroundings and imitate what the “locals” do.

On the other hand, or foot as it were, you are expected to put on the slippers that are placed next to the door before entering the bathroom.

Going to the bathroom is a big deal in Japan.

The cherry blossoms must have been enjoying the revelry too, because they were more completely filled out on this side of the park.

Winnie even found a tiny bloom growing right out of the bark of this big mossy tree.

Monkey see, monkey do… So I took a picture of it right after Winnie did.

I got to wondering “Do many photographers watch other photographers (maybe out of the corners of their eyes) for tips or hints?”

There was a light breeze in the park, and it was carrying some tantalizing aromas.  Food aromas.

Time to eat.

There were a dozen kiosks set up by various food vendors, all selling things that I did not recognise.  Some of it I did recognise but that’s okay, I just walked a little faster…

If it could be dragged wriggling from the sea, it was there, usually with a skewer stuck through it.  Some cooked, some raw, and some for U-Cook-It on a nearby hibachi with an eternal flame.  During business hours.

We bought some skewered (and cooked) food like substances from these girls, and added a beer and a coke to wash it all down.

Dining in Style

Never really decided what it was.. beef?  pork belly? or the dreaded “Other”?
Whatever it was, it was goooooood!

This rowdy bunch of Japanese kids had just met this anglo couple and their baby moments before. They were all really having a good time carrying on and fussing over the baby.  Although none of us were bi-lingual, language proved to be no barrier at all.  Smiles and laughter were ample connection, though all the beer and saki may have been a contributing factor.  What fun!

So.

I joined the party. I laughed and carried on.  I took a few “action shots” of the group.

One of the group is writing down her eMail address for me…  I developed their group shots and sent them to her the next day so that she could pass them along to her posse.
I really enjoy interacting with people from other countries, even when communication is reduced to a mere smile or laugh.

I thought this young girl was cute, so I mimed the question “Okay to take your picture?”  She laughed and struck this pose… and for a Walter Mitty moment in time, she was “The Star”, and I was her “Photographer”.  Everyone in the park has been so friendly today.  Not a frown to be foun(d).

There are still many smokers in Japan, mostly adult males.  And this girl.

Even so, you won’t find any cigarette butts on the ground.  Zero.  None.

Japanese Custom Alert:

The Japanese take “tidy” to whole new levels, even though one rarely sees a trash can.  If you create any “trash” while you’re out and about, put it into your pocket or purse and take it home with you.

I can understand how this could become more and more important as population becomes more and more condensed.   I truly hope that this custom might begin to “trend” in the U.S. and other countries.

Nice boots, ladies!

My brother the police officer always told me that he could tell a lot about a person by just looking at their shoes.
What are your thoughts?  Can you?

It was a fun morning of partying, but now it’s time to flee the raucous denizens of Yoyogi Park for the peace and tranquility of Meiji Jingu Shrine.

Meiji Jingu Shrine entrance

Always bow one time to show respect and honor before entering the 40-foot-high (12-meter) torii gate at the entrance.  It is made of 1,500-year-old cypress.

After I bowed once and passed through the torii gate, all the noise from the city, the bands at the park, the kids… seemed to fade.  The air about us became peaceful, almost serene.  I felt calm.  Relaxed.  I could now hear birds singing instead of the

city’s roar in my ears.  Our rapid pace from the park gently morphed into a stroll so naturally that neither of us even noticed until sometime later.  It was truly an oasis of tranquility amidst the stormy sea that is Tokyo.

Meiji Jingu is a Shinto shrine. Shinto is called Japan’s ancient original religion, and it is deeply rooted in the way of Japanese life.  Shinto has no founder, no holy book, and not even the concept of religious conversion, but Shinto values (for example) harmony with nature and virtues such as “Magokoro (sincere heart)”.

This shrine is dedicated to the divine souls of Emperor Meiji, the late 19th-century emperor who opened Japan to the West, and his consort Empress Shoken (their tombs are in Kyoto).
Emperor Meiji passed away in 1912 and Empress Shoken in 1914. After their demise, people wanted to commemorate their virtues and to venerate them forever. The Japanese people donated 100,000 trees from all over Japan and from overseas, and countrymen from all over Japan worked voluntarily to create this forest and shrine. Thanks to the Magokoro of the people, this shrine was established on November 1, 1920.

And here we have one of the littlest empresses, all dressed up for Sakura. Her proud Mom was doing the family photo shoot.  I simply could not resist a couple of shots of my own.

What a totally cute kid.

The knot of the obi is called musubi.  These days, a woman’s knot often does not keep the obi in place as much as it functions as a large decorative piece in the back. The actual knot is usually supported by a number of accessories including pads, scarves and cords. It’s my understanding that it is quite difficult to don the kimono and attach the obi properly without assistance.  The sheer number of customs and traditions involving just the obi might be enough to make a foreign-born woman swoon.

for example…

There are hundreds of decorative knots and they often represent flowers or birds.  As everything else in a kimono outfit, the knots are regulated by a number of unwritten propriety rules.  Generally the more complex and showy knots are for young unmarried women in festive situations, the more subdued for married or mature women or for use in ceremonial situations.

In earlier days, the knots were believed to banish malicious spirits.

Meiji Jingu Shrine Sake Barrels

As we made our way through the park toward the main shrine, we came upon these beautifully decorative straw covered and hand painted sake barrels. They are called kazaridaru in Japanese.

Sake is the bond between the gods and the people in Japan.

Sake brewers all over Japan donate an empty decorative barrel, or a bottle of their finest sake each year in order to honor the deities enshrined here. The sake itself, is used for ceremonies and festivals.  In return, the priests pray for prosperity for the brewers. Everybody wins.

Across the street from the sake barrels, we found these wine barrels on display.  Turns out that Emperor Meiji not only liked western clothing, he also acquired the love of a glass of vin rouge with his supper.  Maybe two glasses.  This eventually led to a tradition of cultural exchange between Japan and France.

About 180 bottles of wine are gifted from about 60 wineries every December from Burgundy, with luxury brands such as Romanee-Conti included on some occasions.

Thus, one side of the street represents Emperor Meiji’s desire to promote internationalization (Vin Rouge from France) while continuing to uphold Japanese tradition (Sake).  Harmony.

Japanese Custom Alert:

Excerpt from Japan-Guide.com on etiquette:

How to visit a shrine

Behave calmly and respectfully. Traditionally, you are not supposed to visit a shrine if you are sick, have an open wound or are mourning because these are considered causes of impurity.

At the purification fountain near the shrine’s entrance, take one of the ladles provided, fill it with fresh water and rinse both hands. Then transfer some water into your cupped hand, rinse your mouth and spit the water beside the fountain. Custom and tradition dictate that you never let the ladle touch your hand or your mouth.  I noticed that quite a few visitors skip the mouth rinsing part or the purification ritual altogether.  Just thinking of the hoards of the faithful who have recently washed their hands there kind is kind of off-putting to me, too.

At the offering hall, throw a coin into the offering box, bow deeply twice, clap your hands twice, bow deeply once more and pray for a few seconds. If there is some type of gong, use it before praying in order to get the kami‘s attention.

Entrance to the courtyard.

These camphor trees, planted in 1920, are known as “Husband and Wife”

(see below)

During pre-trip research I dreamed of taking some pics of some traditional ceremony or rites.  Dream came true this morning:

A Shinto Wedding procession

The bride in her traditional white kimono and hood and the groom in his formal black robe, walking together under a big red parasol, with Shinto priests leading the way and the rest of the wedding party trailing behind.

I’m shooting fast with whatever setting happened to be  on my camera.  Gee, I hope one of these is a nice image… Please?

Receiving line:  Good luck, you two!

Bride and groom:  Your ride’s here…

This sled imported especially for you from the London Taxi Company

We passed a kiosk as were leaving the Shrine area.  These little wooden signs are called ema and are like little votive tablets.   Most have prayers or wishes for good health or happiness, success in life, or perhaps good wishes for family and friends.    OR, you can get blank ones and write anything you wish.  I remember them being around ¥700 (about $7 usd).

So much for wisely hanging out at the hotel to rehydrate and recuperate.  On the other hand, I really did enjoy the party, meeting some people, the shrine, and especially… beginning to learn a few things about

Japanese Tradition and Custom

So…

…we arose early (yawn) and headed out to Chidorigafuchi Park  (“Chee-dory-gah-foochee” was my best guess) well before breakfast to see if we could find some developed cherry blossoms to take a couple of pics of.  Sakura only occurs for around 10 days to two weeks in the Spring of each year.   Planning a trip to Japan only for the cherry blossoms can be a real “crap-shoot” depending on the weather.  The weeks just prior to our arrival had been a bit cool, and that’s why the blossoms weren’t quite at peak.

 After a brief subway ride, we pop our heads up above ground like prairie dogs to find some really pretty cherry trees, backlit by the rising sun.  No pun intended.

As we walked down the sidewalk and around a corner, a really nice view of the park appeared.  Yay.  My sleepy mode is turning to excitement.  This little side-trip may well pay off with a couple of good images.

The waterway in these images is the moat that surrounds the grounds of the Imperial Palace

These tree’s buds are still several days away from peak development, but still quite breathtaking.

As our little group dispersed to do their own things, I was left alone with my thoughts.  I found a place to sit down and pondered how completely this park was able to shut out the commotion, noise, and the orderly chaos of Tokyo.   I channeled quiet and imagined solitude for a few peaceful moments.  Soft music was provided by the birds, joyfully singing their hearts out in celebration of the gift of another day of life.
I took a few more solitary moments to be thankful that I, too, was experiencing one more sparkling new day of life.   My old body gets tired much more quickly that it used to, and I experience pain every single day, but all-in-all…

…it’s a good day to be alive.

Rowboats are tied up, waiting for long lines of sweethearts to begin forming just prior to the opening of business at 11am.  During “the season” (Sakura), these boats rent for about 800 yen ($8 usd) per 30 minutes.

This Japanese stranger and I were both quietly standing alone, lost in our own thoughts, staring at the vista across the moat.
We both happened to turn at the same time and our eyes met.
We both reacted instantaneously by raising our cameras and taking each other’s picture.  Two photographers, from opposite sides of the world, bonded as friends in that instant, without exchanging a single word.

There are lots of differences between the Japanese and we americans.  But, on the other hand, we’re also so very similar at the same time.  I celebrate both our similarities and our differences.

The time was nigh for our train trip to Hiroshima, but just before we ran for the subway, I looked down and shot one last image:

This image is a nice note to end on.  See you in Miyajima.

Miyajima | April 2nd – 4th

Himeji | April 4th – 5th

Kyoto | April 5th – 9th

Tokyo | April 9th – 10th

Fuji Five Lakes  |  April 10th – 13th

Tokyo  |  April 13th – 14th

Intro…

The whole idea behind this trip involved photographing Sakura… the Japanese Cherry Blossom Festival.  And photograph we did.  Even though we were slightly early for full blossom magnificence, they were still quite beautiful.  We also photographed some spectacular scenery.  It’s always good to come home with a couple of Mt. Fuji shots, right?    And after returning home from this wonderful journey, I was surprised to discover that sometime during the adventure, my interest in the photography mission had somehow become intermixed with an interest in Japanese traditions and customs.  You may discover, as we wend our way through Japan, some interesting photos of things and places that you’ve never seen, or perhaps unique differences and similarities of our respective customs and traditions.  I silently chant my mantra:  Keep an open, curious mind… it’s a good thing.
Ready???

Let’s do this trip.

A good night’s sleep started our trip off right.  Since there have been some, ummm, irregularities, and or delays, at american airports, we left our house at 8am for a 12noon flight, leaving ourselves three hours to contend with any “eventualities” that might have arisen.  Fortunately, didn’t need it.  Got through TSA pre-check easily as one of the thugs decided to single out this little old lady with a hip replacement just in front off us.  Ran the poor ol thing through the magnetometer, the nekked x-ray machine, then gave her a… ahem… thorough pat down.
Why do they pick on older people?  You give them any static, they’ll just delay you until you miss your flight to show you who’s boss.

On the plane.  Will be here for the next eleven hours.  I got pod 2-B, and on arrival found the seat piled high:  fluffy blanket/comforter, pillow, “gift pack” with tooth brush, t’paste, sox, slippers, blinders for the eyes, and some other miscellaneous stuff to scatter about your nest.

Finally got settled, just starting to relax and… here comes lunch.  Wow.  I cannot recall ever being able to eat that much lunch.  Had lots of left-overs… I wonder where does all that extra food (waste) go?

Our plane was a B-767ER.  Let me tell you, the Boeing pods are not nearly as roomy or comfy as the Airbus pods.  And they almost lie flat.  (But not quite.)  For eleven hours, though, it’s do-able and so much better than being trapped in a middle seat in the back.  Here.  Take my credit card, Please!  Once you go to lay-flat pods in Business First, you can never return to your economy roots. 

Landed Tokyu (that’s how they spell it) early in the afternoon the day after we took off, but that’s okay.  We’ll make up for it on the return trip by getting home a couple of hours before we even took off.  Crossing the International Dateline is confusing, isn’t it?

After clearing Customs and Immigration and Baggage we head for the door and immediately find Evan Pike, our english speaking American escort for the trip.  Check out www.EvanPike.com when you get a chance.   Backstory?  Evan, a North Carolina boy and inveterate photographer, got a job teaching English to Japanese for a company in Japan.  Taught several years.  During his tenure, he fell in love with a local Japanese girl who became his bride.  And the rest, as they say… is history.  They have since relocated back the the U.S. and reside in Cary, North Carolina.  Hmmm, I was just thinking… I would like to hear her-story some time,though, you know… for comparison.

Evan escorted us right to the correct bus (out of dozens), and voilá: a rainy, two-hour bus ride through the gray concrete canyons of Tokyo brought us to the Shibuya “neighborhood” and our hotel.  (I hasten to add here that Even and his fluent Japanese and knowledge of the local turf saved the day for us for the first of about five thousand more times over the next couple of weeks… there were very few signs in English. Thanks, Evan.)     The Shibuya Excel Hotel was quite a nice place.  Tiny beds, but nice.  Here’s the view looking through thick-paned glass to the street below:

The Famous Shibuya Crossing

On your marks…

 Get set..

GO ! ! !

The light has just changed and everyone is racing across the intersection.  During the busy times of day, approximately 2500 people cross the street(s) every three and a half minutes.  It was a veritable poster of orderly chaos.

As we settle in for the night, a couple of things come to mind about Japan:

It’s very crowded.  That gives me an uneasy feeling. as I tend to lean toward wide open spaces, woods, and streams.
Hotel rooms are smaller here.  Travel Tip: the smaller the living space, the more care required during unpacking.

Unlike many, many other places in the world that I’ve been, very few Japanese speak any English, at all.  Language can be a barrier.  Thank goodness (again) for Evan.

And then there’s the Japanese commode.

Get ready, americans, as this commode has a lid that automatically raises as you approach.

It has a heated lid that is temperature adjustable for your personal comfort,  (Nice.)

And buttons.  Several of them.

Some even shine a light into the basin and play a) music or b) birds chirping.  Lush.

It’s only a suggestion, but I suggest you tourists study up on it before you even drop trou.  No, really.

Best of luck, fellow travelers.  Study up, as there’ll be a test tomorrow morning just after your morning coffee kick-starts your gut.

Plans for tomorrow, our first full day in Tokyo, are to idly hang around all day and acclimatize to the new time zone.

Will we rest and re-hydrate from our flight across the Pacific?

Maybe…

Addendum:  these things are seemingly everywhere in Japan.  After returning home, I began mulling over the possibilities… Since we’re in the design phase of building our new home, I thought I’d ask our builder and architect if there was an outside chance that I could have one shipped over to me and have them install it for me.  Turns out that these lids are really becoming popular here in the U.S.  In fact, the architect told me he had just spent the entire weekend installing one in his home.  Keep an open mind, folks.

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…