northernlightenment: 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.