day for resting

Everybody is going to Eggųya. Again along the long and unwinding road.
No thanks. I plan to take it easy today. Like climbing up the rock next to our camp and sitting there between lava sculptures watching the birds. Puffins and fulmars mostly, flying about and checking me out.
On the other side of the rock streches an endless beach covered with driftwood and stuff from the sea. A massive amount of garbage must be out there in the sea if so much has hit this island. There's a possibility to find a tennisball, some shoes and bottles.
On the end of the endless beach I make a detour up the hills. Clouds come and hide most of the landscape so I venture back down. There's a grave of a trapper who died here in 1909. Once the island was filled with arctic fox but these were hunted out pretty efficently. None left now and no plan to reintroduce them. The biggest shipload of skins drowned near Icelandic coast. Nature's revenge.
Back at the campsite GPS says that I've walked 14 km. Not bad.
Rolf arrives to camp in the evening and did not end up in a Norwegian detention center for flying a drone near a military installation. But has seen a graffiti 'Eve was here' and bathing girls in bikinis in the fog. He has already heard of the conquering of Beerenberg. News travel fast.
the climb
in the fog

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