Husavik

Leaving the fisherpeople to their pursuits, we drove through increasingly scenic country, and increasingly dodgy weather to Faskrudfjordur, a tiny town with quite a connection to France, mainly due to thee hospital which served until 1935 to treat French fishermen. Even the street signs are still bilingual.

We pushed on in increasing rain, driving along what in fine weather would have been a magnificent coastal drive. The view was enhanced, but the passengers alarmed, as the road skirted the steep cliffs. As on most of Iceland’s roads there was little or no space on the roadside.

The weather was pretty bad by the time we reached Dettifoss, Europe’s second most powerful waterfall at 44 metres high and 100 wide and an average of 136 cubic metres disappearing over it every second. Only the Rheinfall is bigger.

Despite the wet and freezing cold walk to the falls, they were a sight to behold, with the spray being blown every which way and hordes of visitors hunched over against the wind as they took their selfies.

On that note, it is summer, and therefore peak season in Iceland. This apparently means huge crowds everywhere. Car parks are full, and there is virtually no chance of taking a photo without a few random heads or arms in it. The roads are crowded with motor homes.

Our last stopover was Asbyrgi Canyon, a green, hundred metre deep oasis in the treeless, boulder-strewn landscape that we had driven through.

Finally we arrived in Husavik, a neat little town that no one would have heard of had it not been put firmly on the world stage by the classic, artistic movie “Eurovision”.Les mer