Isafjordur - the port is functional and bleak.
Isafjordur, a walk along the fjord
We met a
remarkable tour guide who told us how his grandparents had lived in a turfhouse, which were still being built in the early C20th, when, it was calculated, there
existed over 100, 000 of them.
*
Part of the
reason may well have been that being partly underground they were well
insulated; warmth being valued more than smoke and poor ventilation. There were
other reasons, too, one being the scarcity of trees in Iceland. When the Norse
first arrived, it’s estimated 30 % of the landscape was covered by trees, but
deforestation and slow growth because of the harsh climate meant that wood soon
became in short supply. Trees are still relatively scarce, though many have now been imported, some from
as far away as Siberia.
When someone
asked about stone houses, the guide, a local geologist, told us that the Danish king had forbidden the
import of mortar and cement into Iceland for fear they might have built stone
forts in a struggle for independence. Basalt, (the local lava rock) is
apparently unsuitable for dry-stone walling. This and the unsuitability of
bricks in the Icelandic climate made for interesting and ingenious
alternatives. Forget IKEA, Iceland is the spiritual home of prefabrication.
Isafjordur
Concrete has liberated Iceland, that and corrugated iron, and of course prefabrication. What could be utilitarian and bland is made less so by an emphasis on colour.
We walked through streets of beautifully painted houses, simple but
elegant and weirdly out of place in a bleak and over powering landscape, like beads strewn on hillside and meadows. The colour would be all they going for them in winter and darkness. A tribute to the human spirit.
The first port we called in at was Isafjordur, where, in the tourist information office, a young bearded guy guided us on with a map of the town, linking various members of his extended family. to the places where we should visit. These included his mother and grandmother, his wife's family and the hospital where he was born. The town centre is marked by some cobbling and three trees.
Isafjordur
The first port we called in at was Isafjordur, where, in the tourist information office, a young bearded guy guided us on with a map of the town, linking various members of his extended family. to the places where we should visit. These included his mother and grandmother, his wife's family and the hospital where he was born. The town centre is marked by some cobbling and three trees.
Isafjordur
Isafjordur Culture House, once the old hospital, now a beautifully equipped library.
With a population of just 2,551, this library would put most of our libraries to shame. It shames Monmouth (pop 11,000) with a library staffed by volunteers and which doubles up with a 'One Stop Shop'
Isafjordur
Isafjordur - a tad bleak just here, but for the Germanic looking hotel.
Isafjordur houses
A bar in Akureyri in Northern Iceland.
I drank my first Icelandic beer here.
* Courtesy of Lydur Skulason from Iceland
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