36 The Reykjavík Grapevine Best of Iceland 2017
Distance from Reykjavík: 304km
How to drive there: Route One North, then Route 74
Land’s End
Exploring the villages, crumbling basalt cliffs and remote viewpoints of Skagafjörður Words & Photos John Rogers We’re just north of Bifröst when the night falls hard. After a blustery three hour road trip up the western coast of Iceland, the richly coloured autumn landscape is plunged into an eerie, enveloping darkness. Without the comfort of highway lamps, distant glowing windows, oncoming traffic, or even a smudge of light on the horizon, it feels like driving into inky nothingness. After an hour, the lights of
Blönduós appear through the murk. The town feels deserted, and we cruise past the floodlit forecourt at an unmanned gas station, a closed down factory, and some shuttered houses. Hotel Blanda is the last building before the shoreline of Húnafjörður, and violent, crashing waves are audible somewhere nearby. Even with the hotel room window open just a crack, the wild winds and the bassy roar of the ocean lull me
Car provider: gocarrental.is Hotel: hotelblanda.is
swiftly into a deep sleep.
Lonely ram In the morning, Blönduós is held under a shroud of grey, spitting clouds. The shoreline lies just a few metres from the back of the hotel, and the tide crashes against the rocky seawall, sending jets of spray high into the air. We drive through the town’s few residential streets, peering out at nondescript industrial units, factories, faceless municipal buildings, a fenced-in pool, and a supermarket. Route One slices straight through Blönduós, bridging the River Blanda on its way. A picturesque wooded island named Hrútey sits in the estuary, and a lonely, colourfully painted wooden ram stares at us from the island as we leave the town behind.
Art and prophets Route 74 is a 20 kilometre strip
North of road that skirts the edge of the island-dotted Húnafjörður to Skagaströnd. This discreet little town, with a population of 498, has been a trading centre since the 15th Century, and looks across the fjord to the distant snowy peaks of the Westfjords. It has some life to it: people wander the streets going about their day, and the streets are scattered with sculptures, murals and photographs—all evidence of the artists who stay at the NES art residency. Most of the town’s attractions, however, are closed down for the off season. The cosy-looking Bjarmanes café doesn’t open for another hour, and a museum dedicated to Þórdís, a 10th Century fortune teller who was the first named inhabitant of Skagaströnd, is locked. We peer in through the windows, and instead take a walk over some mossy seaside hillocks topped with a tall cairn. The view across to the Westfjords is spectacular,