TLC Lied to You

That is, if you're spending time in Iceland.

We've spent the last two days chasing waterfalls, or at least that is what it has felt like as Hugi has driven us and our intrepid band of heroes around his neighbourhood, and it seems like an excellent decision. Note that I use the term neighbourhood rather loosely.

The six of us spent Thursday hiking up Glymer, and then Friday we added two more to our party - Tom and Marcy - a couple originally from Minnesota who were returning from three years with the Peace Corp in Uganda. Tom worked in areas relating to economic development, and Mary is a nurse who spent her time helping to educate young nurses within the hospital setting. Not easy work, but listening to them, good work to be doing.

Like I said though, first was Thursday and hiking around Glymer. Pictures likely say it best.

First of course we had to get there, which meant:

Passing the mountain where Santa Claus lives.

Yes, Iceland also takes credit for being the true home of that jolly old elf, though apparently this story is not as popular as it once was.  Or at least that is what Hugi told us as w drove along.

Next was crossing a salmon river.

And then a look at the remains of what would have been old sheep pens.

No, that waterfall is not the one at Glymer. But it was certainly still worth exploring.

And exploring.

And posing? That's actually a different waterfall behind. And no, not Glymur. Some estimate the number of waterfalls, when you consider all shapes and sizes, rising into the thousands. Not surprising considering all the glacier run-off.

Getting to Glymur required a hike, first through the forested area leading up to it, including crossing the river created by the waterfall. Crossing was along several rocks in the rapids and a walk along a log, helped of course by a hand-dandy cable-line that has been installed to help hikers. Getting a bit past this allowed for our first views of the Glymur waterfall.

 As we continued the hike up we took occasional breaks, primarily to look around, but more so so that I could catch my breath. I am reminded of a time portaging with Marc and the boys in Algonquin, where, after we took several portages straight through, Marc and I had the sudden realization that we could actually stop and rest along the way. I'm not always the swiftest, but I do learn. So this time we took breaks.

Noah is looking out to the fjord that was formed by the same glacier that is responsible for this waterfall as it retreated further inland. We had driven around part of this fjord on our drive here.  Iceland has many bays and fjords. All seem to be referred to as fjords, but, as Noah's research discoverd, there is a difference. Fjords are created by retreating glaciers, and are generally quite long and slim. Bays, well, they're just bays, and don't have the same pedigree. And yes, for those of you who missed it, the boys do a little research now and again on the stuff we're seeing. The neat thing about this particular fjord is that it has a tunnel running underneath it for traffic. Yes, this is a modern tunnel that caused a bit of a controversy when first suggested. Apparently though Icelanders are just as prone to selecting convenience over scenic drives as the rest of us.

The funny little dots are sheep. They are far better climbers than we, and we saw these curious fellows on the other side of the gorge around the falls. Sheep get to roam free in Iceland, and apparently at the end of each month everyone is sent out to scour the land for them, and then bring them all together. The sheep have chips in their ears so are easily identifiable. Just a guess on my part, but it strikes me the next step would be to include GPS locators in the chips and then they could have an app for that.

Anyway, we eventually made it not to the top.

The top was a much longer way off, and we needed to start heading back. It actually looked like you could do it as a loop, up one side, across, and then down the other, as we could see people walking down the other side. We were not those people.

A few years ago I was out in BC visiting my friend Maureen in Vancouver. One fine sunny day she, I, and her friend Claudio decided to go to Grouse Mountain. Now, if you know Grouse Mountain, then you likely know of the Grouse Grind. If you don't, simply put, the Grouse Grind is a 2.9km "hike" up this mountain in the middle of Vancouver. Apparently there are good reasons to go west young man. Here are its stats if you are interested. The key one is that you go up about 800 metres or so.

Now, Maureen is in shape, and I mean, in shape. She trains, does triathalons, and that sort of thing. Claudio? Well I seem to recall Maureen mentioning that Claudio at one time was a professional kayaker. Yes, professional. Me? Ya, um... no.

Here's a tip for all you 40-somethings. When hiking up a mountain, don't let the triathelete and professional athelete set the pace. It's a big mistake. My right knee has been paying the price ever since. Up, not a problem. Down - serious limp, lots of pain. Not fun. Lasted for a few days. Never fully recovered despite exercises and the such.

Now, I thought that maybe I HAD fully recovered. Nope. Glymur has pointed out to me that I have not. Bring on the limp. It's already improving though, so please do not shed a tear on my behalf.

You know, I really was hoping to finish up writing about Iceland before heading to London, but as you'll see soon enough you cover alot of ground in two days when you're chasing waterfalls in Iceland, and we've a plane to catch for London now, and I need to finish my Skyr (it's yoghurt, but not) and porter before we board.

Yes, Icelandic porter. You didn't expect me not to mention the local beer, did you?