The person who had moved into my cabin has at some point still moved back out without me ever meeting her.
But stranger things have happened on this ferry (my first contact with it was through an Icelandic detective series).
Customs take away one copy of the form that I had to print out in two copies. Next person asks how long to I plan to stay on the island and what am I going to do here. Ok, tourist, they shrug and wave towards exit. Or entry into Iceland. No-one identified me during the operation or checked if the car is mine or I stole it. Only cheery narcotics dog sniffed the row of cars. It was lately in local news that drugs smuggled in are cleaner and in bigger quantities.
The café in Seyðisfjörður will open half past twelve. This would be the time for second breakfast. It is still nine o‘clock and I need the first one. It drizzles and clouds are drawn down to land. Visibility is about 100 meters. Somewhere in this cloud they hide breakfast and cellphone network. Finally both are found in Reyðarfjörður.
Although the plan was to visit Eastern and Northern Iceland I turn south. There are some things I would like to see and I have plenty of time. GPS stubbornly recommends to go around the island and suggest we drive north during the first 150 kilometers.
From time to time some rock appears in an unexpected place from the cloud. Other rocks have artistically thrown all around. Waterfalls where ever you look. Different colors of clouds and reflections of the whole landscape in the bays do not make concentrating on driving easy. But it is important to watch ot for the sheep and fellow tourists. Car tracks of idiots are on the beach, right next to the sign that forbids driving there. Vatnajökull stretches his icy fingers towards the road. It still does for some time.
I also make some spontaneous stops although pictures taken next to the car are never good. When I start to be interested in coffee then I find out that it was on offer until half past four. It’s quarter to five. Damn. Later I get coffee and soup from a gas station.
In the afternoon I reach Kirkjubæjaklaustur camp site. Try to speak Icelandic with the reception guy. Despite using an English word instead of the Icelandic one that I don‘t remember I later read that he has written „Iceland“ as my country of origin. Hah.
I pick a spot on the giant grass field, put tent up and og looking for dinner. In the restaurant is a queue waiting to be seated. Getting food still seems to be a country-wide problem here. Luckily I brought a book.
Sightseeing starts tomorrow.
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