Djúpivogur to Höfn
A very uneventful day, with a slow start sleeping in followed by breakfast at the hostel in Berunes. Then a drive to Djúpivogur along the Ring Road and ending in Höfn. Along the way, I stop by bird cliffs where seagulls nest on the edge of sea cliffs in sight of some sea stacks rising form the water. The fog rolls in as I approach a small a sandar – black sand deposited by glacial streams into the ocean and then washed back onto the beach by the ocean. A portion of the Ring Road crosses an narrow but long expanse of this black sand. I hear there are even more expansive sandars between the road from Höfn to Vík.
More sheep. More mountains. More stopping in the middle of the highway. Shoot-shoot-shoot. Drive some more. Repeat.
Iceland is both familiar yet strangely exotic. The endless sheep-riddled pastures remind me of New Zealand and Patagonia. The cascading “steps” of the volcanic pyramidal mountains remind me of Kaui and Utah. The coastline reminds me of California’s gold coast and southern Maui. All reminiscent but still very unique and apart from all these places.
It’s 15:00 by the time I reach Höfn. I’ve skipped dinner yesterday and lunch today – unless you count the bananas and leftover bag of pretzels that I’ve survived on the last two days. So far I’ve just relied on driving by something interesting… or convenient for something to do or eat. For once on the trip, I refer to my guidebook for something. Without much thought, I find the first place listed to eat in Höfn – Cafe Tulinius. “… serves fancy coffees, Icelandic snacks, and creamy cakes…”, it says. 
Done. The menu is a “to-the-point” print out on white 8.5″x11″ paper. Although all the items are grouped in logical sections – drinks, entres, desserts – within each section is a seemingly random sequence of icelandic and english-translated food items. Sometimes they’re translated, sometimes not. Sometimes the translations a few lines below rather than immediately after the translated food. I order the lobster soup, skyr (scandinavian yogurt-based dessert) and a swiss mocha…. and yes, with whip cream.
I fill up on diesel for the 300km journey from Höfn to Vík. The machine says “Pay Inside”, yet you don’t need to ask or swipe a credit cart to start pumping. The Icelandic honor system. God love Icelanders. I pick up a road atlas of Iceland as well.
There’s still another 8 hours of daylight, and I intend to go hike onto the glacier. Summer days in Iceland feel like a “2 for 1″, with sunset at midnight and sunrise at 3:00 AM. It doesn’t go according to plan. I drive by the hotel that I decided to spend the night in, and check-in in the event I come back from hiking at midnight.
“Do you have internet?”
“Why yes, here’s the code.”
Sweeeet! I haven’t been online for 36 hours, and realize I may not have cell phone reception or internet access for another two days until I get closer to Reykjavik. I enter dangerous territory: Facebook, Gmail, Picasa, etc. – they’re all loading and I’m uploading hundreds of pictures online and update the blog. Before I know it, it’s 21:00 but it’s still light out.
