This is the third in a series of posts about my two-week camping road trip around Iceland, still on day 1. After discovering that a school had been built over the campsite we had planned to pitch up at, we drove onto Skykkisholmur to discover another problem….
Reach our destination at last
Eventually we rolled into the small fishing town of Skykkissholmur and quickly identified the campsite, which was pleasant enough. It had the basic facilities and it and it was back dropped by some wonderful mountain views. Rather then pitch up the tent straight away, we chose to head into town to get us some grub. This was set to be one of the best feeds of all the holiday, wonderful fresh local fish (scallops and black cod to be exact), washed down with some water. The booze was very expensive, so we gave that a miss. Before the meal, we had a good old adventure round the harbour, clambered up to the local light house and gazed out of the ocean. Now this was more like it!
Hubby and I sat down in quiet contemplation and ridiculed the crazy people who had said to us ‘why did you choose to go to Iceland’ – this was exactly why. Rough, harsh, unspoilt natural beauty. With our bellies and minds full to the brim, we were happy to go back to the campsite, pitch up tent, have a coffee and get some sleep. We were soon to find out that this was not going to be all that straight forward.
Tasks where first split; hubby was putting up the tent while I did the coffee. I got out our new Primus Firefly stove, the kind of camping stove that you could take up Mount Everest and still be able to make your brew. So I was really excited, we’d only used it once on an overnight wild camping trip on Dartmoor National Park to test and unsure that it was up to the job.
Anyway, I’d been and washed out the tin mugs, filled my pan with water, got the milk at the ready, and put the fuel in the fuel bottle. So I was all set, steaming hot coffee here we come! But as I assembled all the pieces together, I broke out into a cold sweat, where was the fuel pump? Then I recalled about a month before after the Dartmoor trip, saying to hubby “we mustn’t forget to take the fuel pump out of the small fuel bottle and put it in the large fuel bottle we are taking to Iceland”. Sadly that thought had only come back to me then. Our £125 stove bought specially for Iceland was reduced to a useful pile of metal, no good to no one. So I relented and gave up, we were going to have to find a camping store tomorrow and see if they stocked our fuel pump.
24 hour day light
It had been an exhausting day, so off we went to bed at about 10.30pm and it was still light as day. Woke up again for the toilet run at about 3.30pm and it was still light (no chance to duck down and pee behind a bush). The sky was streaked within an amazing sun rise, hanging low in the sky over the other side of the abstract nordic white-painted church. The mass camp of partying kids were still wide awake smoking spliffs and larking around, and we just looked on remembering when we were their age. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not old, but we’ve gone past the ever lasting nights of binge drinking and experimental drug taking.
Next time, I’ll at last I’ll be able to tell you about day 2 and our hair-raising whale watching trip.