An eventful week, Iceland

After having a few days to settle in to my new living quarters and study regime I was ready to explore Holar. The Hjaltadal Valley cuts southeast in to the Trollaskagi mountain range between Skagafordur and Eyjafjordur. It has deep peaceful valleys and steep mountains, with small glaciers here and there. Holar is near the middle of the valley, on the eastern side. The town stands in a small cluster of hills, formed by a landslide from Mt. Holabryda above Holar, which is 1,244m high.

View of the Hjaltadal Valley showing the smallness of Holar

After being at school all day on Wednesday, Dan, Cat and I set off for a hike. Cat had been at home all day and had discovered Geocaching on the internet. After talking to a few locals she had the location of a couple of caches around Holar. We were aiming for Gvendarskal - a ledge 420m up the side of Mt. Holabryda. This is where Gudmundur Arason the Good (affectionately known as Gvendur) was said to pray every day at a huge boulder named Gvendaraltari (Gvendur's Altar) during his time as Holar's Bishop (1203 - 1237). The trail winds it's way through the Holar Forest before getting incredibly steep and rocky as you continue to gain altitude. If the last 50 vertical metres doesn't kill you, the view is definitely worth the effort.

Rugged up warm on top of Gvendarskal overlooking the Hjaltadar Valley

Once at the top the accuracy of our GPS unit came under fire. Despite about 10 minutes of searching for the 3 red rocks detailed in the cache description we still hadn't found the 'treasure.' Turns out its hiding place is visible from Holar itself (not to give too much away) - so not exactly obvious...

First time geocachers Mark, Dan and Cat successful on Gvendarskal

Despite starting off a bit rubbish, Thursday fined up pretty nice. In fact today, 4 days after arriving in Iceland, was the first time I saw the sun. Determined not to let this rare occurrence go to waste Dan and I left school shortly after lunch. I had spotted a very fishy looking lake just down the road from Holar, which unlike most water in Iceland is free to fish in. Having had all of my fishing gear stolen a few months before I left New Zealand, finding a new Icelandic friend with a fishing rod was high on my 'to do' list. Fortuitously my neighbour's wife Cat has a fishing pole that I am welcome to use anytime - bloody dece. The three of us set off for the lake, which is stocked with Arctic Charr by students like me who are studying and conducting experiments on the fish here in Iceland. As we didn't manage to catch anything I think I'm going to have to look in to increasing the stocking rate as part of my 'research project.'

Fly fishing for Arctic Charr with Holar in the distance

Later that night we hit Holar's only other geocache, hidden somewhere in the Holar Forest. Now that we've found the only two geochaches nearby there is talk of creating some new ones up in the mountains surrounding Holar.

Successful night time geocaching mission in Holar Forest

Friday was a relaxed affair but at "beer club" (which opens every Friday night here in Holar and offers relatively cheap beer) all talk was about Laufskálaréttir. Every year in autumn Iceland's free-grazing sheep and horses are rounded up from their grazing areas in the mountains and driven towards their home valleys by their various owners. This carnivalesque event, which is the largest horse roundup in Iceland, is accompanied by traditional songs, dancing and an unhealthy amount of drinking. So, with two dozen beers (NZ$84) chilling on the veranda, we hitched a ride to the corral early on Saturday morning and waited for what we were promised would be complete madness.

His hairdo and beard look vaguely familiar ...

Icelandic horses in the quiet before the storm, Laufskálaréttir 2008

Mark and Cat meeting the locals

At around 11:30am a seemingly endless stream of Icelandic horses began pouring down the mountainside. It took a good 45 minutes for all 3,500 horses to be driven the kilometre to the paddocks surrounding the corral. Once all the horses had arrived, and the farmers felt drunk enough to begin the process of sorting, 70 or so horses were driven in to the centre of the corral. Here each farmer would attempt to coax their horses through the gates leading to their individual holding pens. Not wanting to relinquish their freedom easily, the horses ran about in a whirlpool of neighing and hoof stamping. The farmers used every technique in their arsenal to keep things under control and often resorted to manhandling the almost wild animals in to position.

The centre of the corral has gates leading to each farmers holding pen

Trying to 1- sort horses, 2- not get trampled and 3- get as drunk as possible

We were lucky enough to be invited in to a farmer's holding pen to get as close as possible to the action. This sounded like a good idea initially, but we were under the impression that the pen would remain empty today. We were wrong. I've always been told that you should never stand behind a horse, you know because if they kick you it would be a very bad thing. Apparently nobody has told Icelanders this, and we were face to arse to a good many horses during the day. It seems that these horses prefer to bite more than kick, and I had my fair share of horses nibbling at me while I wasn't looking. By the time we left at about 3:00pm there would have been about 30 horses and 20 or so people all crammed in to the small pen together. An absolutely amazing experience, and totally insane, and there was more to come later in the evening.

A horse somehow got in to the wrong pen

Up close and a little too personal

The locals celebrate the successful round up with a ball “Réttardansleikur” in the community hall at Saudakrokur. Its an expensive affair, with tickets costing NZ$45 and the bus to and from Saudakrokur NZ$30. You have to bring all your own alcohol too! Still, from what I can remember of the night it was very very fun - and long. Things didn't kick of in the hall until 11:00pm but they kept it up until around 5:00am! Icelander's love to get rinsed out so I don't need to tell you that Sunday was spent in recovery mode ... to say the least.

Icelander's love to dance

The party, held in a horse riding hall, was attended by about 3,000 people!

Cat and Dan - rinsed

Everyone - even more rinsed

In the land of ice, Iceland

So I am now living in the land of ice. I arrived on Sunday the 21st late in the day, got through security and customs without even so much as having my passport looked at or bags searched or anything. I'm not sure what all the fuss was about with my visa to be honest - I just walked on in to the country without being asked a single question! Thinking I had somehow eluded the authorities, like a fugitive I took the first bus to Reykjavik (NZ$25) where I holed up in a Salvation Army Hostel for the night (NZ$45). Risking capture I ventured out and had Mexican food, or Nachos at least, for dinner (NZ$18.50) and a beer (NZ$13).

Holar, situated in Northwest Iceland, in its entirety

The next day I jumped on a bus to Holar (NZ$86), had a roast beef roll along the way (NZ$9), but only made it to Varmahlid before meeting up with an American student named Dan. We drove to our offices and lab in Saudakrokur and then headed home to Holar for dinner. Dan's wife Catherine made a tomato pie, followed by a dessert pie made from local berries. Considering that I didn't get a chance to hit up one of the supermarkets in Saudakrokur pies for dinner was very dece! Later that night we played a game in the local gym which is a bit like hockey. The two hour session was pretty intense I have to say, but the weekly battle will definitely be good for the fitness.

On Tuesday I finally got a chance unpack my bags and scope out my home for the next god knows how long, which as it turns out is actually pretty well equipped. My 50 square metre apartment is heated using geothermal energy - via my 6 heaters. Showers are as hot as you like, but unfortunately you smell a little bit like Rotorua afterwards.

Looking past my apartment towards Mt. Holabyrda

Postal address:

5c Geitagerdi
IS-551 Saudarkrokur
ICELAND

Keeping with the minimalist look in the boudoir

Lounge, dining room and kitchen looking from the veranda to the front door

Dining room and lounge looking out towards the veranda

The wash closet - the toilet is opposite the shower

The maids quarters and storage/drying room

I think I should be able to hibernate here quite happily over the winter months. I did however have to deal to the outside light - which was giving me 24 hour sunlight much before it was due. The funny thing is I'll be putting it back in because I'm craving light in a month or two.

Mark 1, stupid light 0

I headed to the office in Saudakrokur on Wednesday in the communal car with Dan, Pamela (an American PhD student) and Stefan (my co-supervisor). I set set up a bank account account and got my visa finalised - almost. I am legally able to live and work in Iceland until February 1, 2009 before which time I have to apply for an extension. I have to keep extending my visa every 6 months or so which promises to be a pain in the arse. I did some shopping too (because there are no shops at all in Holar) and for around NZ$50 I got a dozen eggs, 1/2 a loaf of bread, 100g of salami, 250g of muesli, 500g of butter, 6 mushrooms, 1kg of rice, 8 rolls of toilet paper and 300g of frozen veggies - not much for ya cash I'd say. Dinner for the first week was, not surprisingly, very simple and exactly the same every night.

Ingredients: water, fork, bowl, rice, mushrooms, beans and carrots

Muskrat hunt, Amsterdam

The Dutch have to be the world's experts on claiming land from water. People say that "God created earth, but the Dutch created The Netherlands!" A large part of the country is polderland. That means that former swamps and lakes have been reclaimed and are kept dry by drainage. A polder is created by making a ring dike around a swamp or lake. This dike, in turn, is surrounded by a drainage canal. The water from the area which is to be reclaimed is pumped in to that drainage canal and finally discharged to the sea. These artificial drainage canals are at a higher elevation than the inner polderland. Obviously, for this form of land development, a complex system of ditches and canals is necessary. Polders are at risk from flooding at all times and care must be taken to protect the dikes surrounding them. Some animals dig tunnels in dike and canal walls, undermining their structural integrity; the Muskrat (Ondatra zibethicus) is notorious for this behaviour. For this reason in The Netherlands it is actively hunted to extinction. Because the Government in The Netherlands still objects to the use of rodenticides in the aquatic environment where Muskrats live, control is still carried out the good old fashioned way by means of traps and nets. Because these kinds of catching methods are used, the Dutch prefer to have it done by persons who are trained to do this work as their daily task in Government Service. I don't know if I qualified for that, but was still keen to give it a crack.

Andreas and I in our canoe on the trail of some pesky Muskrats

Early on Friday morning Andreas (an old friend of Linda's) picked me up from Zuiderland 8 and took me to "Muskrat HQ." We loaded up the back of the Citroen 4x4 Econovan (what the?) with traps and hooked on the boat trailer. After a short drive and with some adept manoeuvring, Andreas dropped the converted airboat in to a shallow canal and threw in all the necessary paraphernalia for Muskrat hunting. Ominously, we both suited up in chest high waders and shoulder length rubber gloves. Blasting through the canals with the 15hp outboard was a thrill, but there was a serious issue at hand. The holes made by Muskrats in waterways interfere with drainage, particularly in the often century-old smaller polder dikes, which are found in the most densely populated areas of The Netherlands. Large residential areas, airports, and other important centres may be inundated following the failure of one of these dikes.

Pulling the boat up at a stand of reeds, I was ordered out of the boat and in to the waist deep brown sticky 'water' of the canal. Following Andreas deeper in to the reed bed we discovered some fresh signs that Muskrats had been eating the plants there. "Now I know they are living here" Andreas said. With the presence of Muskrats likely there was a new urgency about our mission to find their 'building' and lay our traps. After struggling back to the boat and hauling myself in, coated in foul smelling mud, the outboard was slammed in to reverse and we were off. At every likely hidey hole we would jump out of the boat and search for Muskrat burrows. The entrances are always underwater, so searching involved walking along the edge of the canals sticking your feet and hands in to the bank to feel for their 'pipes', as Andreas calls them. We found 2 'buildings' that day, and 12 pipes giving the Muskrats entry and exit below the waterline.

Setting snap traps in underwater Muskrat burrow entrances

In order to give yourself the best possible chance of catching a Muskrat as it enters or exits its lair, you need to 1 - make sure you put a trap in every burrow, and 2 - modify the round burrow entrance to accommodate the square trap. You also must be careful not to snap your fingers off in the trap as you are positioning it just right ... oh and not forget to mark it with a flag so you can find it again. After a day blatting around the canals, right past peoples homes and businesses, under bridges and through tunnel construction sites - all the time remembering to think like a Muskrat - I was shattered. I was none the less excited at the prospect of catching my first Muskrat, and the next day I wouldn't be disappointed.

A Muskrat - its head firmly gripped by the snap trap

At a more reasonable hour on Saturday morning Andreas and I set off to check the traps we had set the day before. Instead of the stable and relatively comfortable boat from yesterday, we unleashed the stealth of a (one man) canoe. It was precariously unstable once I wedged my ass in to the front, and the bow rested only 7 or 8cm above the water. After waiting for a gap in the boat traffic on a main canal, to avoid any bow waves which would have undoubtedly capsized us, we managed to stay upright as we retraced our steps to check the traps. I know there is something weird about getting excited to find a dead waterlogged rat in a trap, but hey I'm a science nerd. Adreas keeps rats in his freezer. Turns out we caught two of the little critters, and in doing so did my part in protecting the polderlands of The Netherlands. You can thank me later.

Saving Amsterdam one Muskrat at a time

Despite having an amateur like me on board, Andreas and his team have, since beginning operations in the 1940's significantly slowed the spread of Muskrats. In general, only 25% of the animals reach their first reproduction period; and there is continuous inspection of the places where muskrats occur, which make it possible to take rapid action when damage occurs or is impending. You have an awesome job Andreas - you are The Muskrat Hunter. Thanks for taking me along and showing me a very unexpected side of The Netherlands's polderlands!

City living, Amsterdam

Amsterdam Centraal Station

The weather has been unseasonably good during my stay, with temperatures in the 20's, and I've spent almost a week just checking out Amsterdam and its surrounds on foot and by bicycle. For a city of 750,000 people it feels very laid back, despite the often chaotic sound of cars, scooters, bicycles and trams whipping through the small streets. I love the fact that you can dive off the main roads to a quiet canal and tree lined street to escape the crowds.

Gabled buildings lining the canal along Rokin Street, Amsterdam

A beautiful scene near the blue bridge, Amstel River, Amsterdam

The tranquil central city canals offer the perfect contrast to the brisk pace of the cobbled streets running alongside them. It is almost hard to imagine a way to make the city more beautiful or more diverse - the history, the architecture, the green spaces and of course the people compliment each other perfectly and give the visitor so many sights, sounds, smells and tastes to choose from.

Hustling along Warmoesstraat in the early evening, Amsterdam

I love Amsterdam for so many different reasons. I really enjoyed people watching in Rembrandtplein, cruising the markets for a bargain at Waterlooplein and sampling the cafes and bars in the Red Light District. For me though, Dutch food (and cheap beer) is probably what I will miss most about The Netherlands. The Dutch love sweets like stroopwafel and boterkoek, but it is a breakfast of chocolade vlokken that prepares them for the day.

Dutch takeaway food looks a bit weird but tastes lekker!

Takeaway food like kaassouflé, berenhap, frikandel, gehaktbal, kroket and bamischijf might seem a little odd at first but are truly delicious (and I'm guessing very very bad for you for more than one reason). The kaas, not surprisingly, is my favourite thing to eat in The Netherlands. Old Amsterdam (or its close relative oude koggerlander) is super tasty - good on its own, in a sango or liberally sprinkled on top of any other food item. I was also lucky enough to be invited to Linda's parents house for dinner during my stay. We had stampot boerenkool met worst - or mashed potatoes and kale (literally farmer’s cabbage) with beef sausage.

Step by step guide to the correct plating of stampot boerenkool met worst

There is a very specific way to plate this dish in order to truly eat it Dutch style. You must make a canyon with your potatoes, pour the gravy in it, and then top with the sausage. A delicious meal in anybody's language! Dank u voor een geweldige avond en een mooie traditionele Nederlandse maaltijd, en aan Linda voor het tonen van me (en Jen) een grote tijd in Amsterdam.

Mark and Jen, Amsterdam

After arriving in Amsterdam on the 10th it took me a couple of days to get over my jet lag after flying Sydney - Kuala Lumpur - Amsterdam. All up I spent about 27 hours either in a plane or mincing around airports, so it was nice to have a bit of recovery time before Penny Rako came across from London to hang out for the weekend. Linda and I headed out to the airport to pick Jen up but after a couple of hours, and having watched everyone disembark but her, we were at a loss for what to do next. Eventually, after calling home for some contact numbers, Jen managed to get hold of us. United at last - with nerves a little frayed by near disaster - we headed back out of the city to Linda's house in Koog aan de Zaan to prepare for a weekend of mischief.

Jennifer is fascinated by how they make cheese in The Netherlands

On Saturday morning Linda took us to Zaanse Shans. This small village is actually a collection of wooden houses and windmills from the whole Zaan (a river) region. When these houses were threatened due to post war city development it was decided to move them to this one location, giving the impression of a Zaan village of times past by. Among its attractions are; a wood mill, a mustard mill, a paint mill, a traditional cheese factory, a wooden shoe museum/workshop, a bakery, a candystore, a grocery store, a clock museum, a tin factory, a pancake restaurant and a top end restaurant.

I on the other hand am mesmerised by the spinning windmill blades

But we both LOVE clogs

After seeing your typical Dutch tourist items and tucking in to the equivalent of a sausage roll we were in the train from Koog Bloemwijk to Amsterdam Centraal Station to meet up with Jen's London flatties: Karen and Steve. We took a boat cruise through the picturesque canals and inner harbour, all turning our heads in sync from left to right in time with the English portions of the pre-recorded commentary playing over the loudspeakers. Well Jen, Karen and I did. I'm not so sure what "Spacecake Steve" was up to during the cruise, but he looked like he was enjoying it more than the rest of us. Having only gently nudged one canal wall we were back on to the streets and in search of liquid refreshments.

Jen and Karen at Escape, Rembrandtplein, Amsterdam

Feeling revived but slightly drunk we donned dark glasses and sifted on in to the Red Light District. After some delicious Thai food and plenty of beers we decided that a sex show at the Casa Rosso Theatre was in order. I think it had something to do with Robyn and Ross naming their Waimarama swillery after it - or that fact that there were sure to be naked chicks inside. Either way, after perusing the women of the night in the narrow alleys with hundreds of other tourists and undoubtedly some seedy gentlemen, we found ourselves sitting in the upper bar of the Casa Rosso Theatre. After meeting a couple of other Kiwi's, a couple of beers and several tits n asses later Jen and I were on the last train home at 1am.

Red Light District, Amsterdam

Casa Rosso Theatre, Red Light District, Amsterdam

After a slow start to Sunday, and some chocolate flakes on bread for breakfast, we headed back in to Amsterdam. Visiting Anne Frank's Secret Annex wasn't originally on my itinerary (I rarely travel with one to be honest) but was really glad we all made the visit. The link is really worth checking out if you aren't familiar with her story.

Jennifer's not so secret annex

Feeling a bit bummed after our visit, we decided to enjoy one of the most popular modes of transport in The Netherlands - the bicycle! We enjoyed sunshine and 23 degrees as we negotiated the crazy city streets on our way to Vondel Park which is located towards the southern end of the city, behind the Van Gogh Museum. Riding a bike is definately a must do if you visit Amsterdam! After a leisurely lunch and a few beers it was sadly time to head home and get Jen back to the airport for her flight back to London. I hope you had fun exploring the sights of Amsterdam with me Penny, I know I did!

I don't think Jen's realised that she's lost yet ...

Me and Jenny so fast it's blurred

Steve, Jennifer and Karen tackling Amsterdam on two wheels

Hawkesbury River, Sydney, Australia

Kristine and Al really put on a spread for me while I was staying with them in Sydney. I had delicious dinners and plenty of beers every night. As if that wasn't enough they decided to treat me to an entire weekend of my three favourite pastimes - fishing, drinking and eating! All the arrangements were made during the week and early Saturday morning, after loading up on beer, wine and food, we headed about an hour north of Sydney to Brooklyn on the banks of the mighty Hawkesbury River. While I loaded up on bait and supplies at the tackle shop next door Kristine and Al went about learning some watercraft safety. 12 minutes of DVD and $AU50 of bait, lures and burley later we were el capitans of our very own houseboat for the weekend.

Ripples Houseboat - "The Roland"

Day 1 of The Deadliest Catch Australia was miserable - with rain, wind and swell buffeting us novice captains about. Map reading and navigation in general was an undesirable crew position, each of us preferring to be captain and therefore give someone else the responsibility of giving us directions. We even resorted to flipping the map around so it was pointed in the right direction ... talk about amateur hour ... or maybe that wasn't in the DVD.

Who put you muppets in charge?

1 vote for Captain Kristine

Standing at the stern while we were steaming along to our destination (I'm pretty sure this was captain Kristine's fault) I noticed that the dingy trailing behind us was taking on a bit of water. What started as the odd splash as we punched through the swell eventually got the better of the small craft and before I could yell "crikey mate stop the boat - a dingo ate my dingy!" the poor yellow thing drowned completely. Despite our best efforts at search and rescue, the Hawkesbury claimed the lives of our oars. RIP. Never the less, after some deliberate and some not so deliberate sightseeing we eventually reached Jerusalem Bay where we moored for the night.

Moored up in Jerusalem Bay for the night

Another cold one, ta Kristine

After some serious laying of burley, lobbing of lures and shredding cans it was time to stash the rods and fire up the barbie. We had fresh Kangaroo steaks and kebabs on the menu, and as we hadn't snafooed any fish it looked like that was guna have to do. As soon as it passes your lips you forget all about how cute Skippy looks - he tastes better than he should! During dinner Al somehow managed to securely hook a little Port Jackson Shark - the only fish of any kind for the tip. Well done lad.

Throw another shrimp on the barbie mate

Or a Skippy mate, up to you

Not the Deadliest Catch but still a shark, some of which are dangerous...

Sunday was brilliant, and despite the rods not getting any action you couldn't have asked for anything more (well ok, maybe some fish ...). None of us wanted to give up The Roland on such a beautiful afternoon, but we were outta beers and it was time to ease her back in to the marina. An absolutely magic weekend if anyone gets the chance to do it. I just want to thank you guys again for an amazing time in Sydney. Your hospitality was amazing and that weekend was one of the best!

Sunny Sunday brekkie on the Hawkesbury River