We completed our circuit of Iceland amongst the charming fishing villages of the Eastern Fjords. From optical lenses to  French settlement, they have a varied history. 

Höfn

This is a bright pleasant little town although there is little to detain anyone. We had a wander around Ósland, the peninsula at the south of town, from where there are wide views of the distant glaciers, walked along mini black sand beaches and checked out the seaman’s momument.

They have created a boulder field in the centre of town – as if we had not seen enough rock – and a strange wooden narwhal tusk monument. More importantly, the adjacent Netto had a good bakery.

We drove on from Höfn to Fáskrúðsfjörður. The scenery in Iceland is consistently beautiful and that trip, miles from anywhere on the far eastern reaches of the country, was as startlingly good as any we had seen. 

We passed towering rugged mountains, black sand beaches and dramatic sea stacks, tumbling waterfalls on the edge of the wilderness, scattered farms on the narrow belt between sea and peak.

Sand bars swirled amidst sea lagoons, whilst whooper swans and pied oyster catchers paddled at the water’s edge. We crossed bridges over rushing, muddy, glacial rivers and gleamingly clear streams. There were colourful rhyolite mountains, others ascended in numerous jagged tiers, where high flying fulmars soared.

Skútafoss

There are a few stops en route, our first being a beautiful valley on the ring road 22 km east of Höfn, where there is a series of three waterfalls. 

The first waterfall one sees walking up the valley is Fremstifoss and the third is Innstifoss, but it is the middle of the three, Skútafoss, which is the most striking.

It falls some 10 m onto a mossy outcrop. There is a cave hollowed out to one side with a large overhang and another small waterfall falls a few metres along to the other side in a fine spray.

The gentle walk up the valley is stunning: a cirque hangs high overhead and the great masses of smoothed rock show the power of the extinct glacier that shaped the valley.

We ascended to where it narrowed, only a few shaggy sheep and the sound of rushing waters for company. The mosses and grass grew richly between the stony course of the river and the jagged silhouette of the mountains was awe inspiring.

Returning with the sea directly ahead, we enjoyed the abstract swirls of black sand in the lagoon.

Djúpivogur

Our next port of call was Djúpivogur, which has come up with a novel way of catching one’s attention: the artist Sigurður Guðmundsson has created 34 giant replicas of the eggs of birds which are found in the local area.

In polished stone they are rather beautiful and are arranged on a series of plinths along the shoreline where the cruise boats tie up. Sadly this is a rather tatty area with giant oil tanks and the like, so they are rather wasted, but perhaps they are going to smarten it up.

It also doesn’t help that they only have the bird names in Icelandic and Latin, not English. I now know kria is the ubiquitous arctic tern, and the latin for puffin refers to their black and white friars habit, but that’s sadly about it. FYI, the puffin egg is the last in line, whilst the first is a doubly outsize model of the red throated diver to denote the official bird of the town. 

Fáskrúðsfjörður

The campsite at Fáskrúðsfjörður is beautifully situated near a lake with a mountain backdrop. The showers were hot and it was all very peaceful – until duck hunters arrived, filling the night with a barrage of gunfire and frantic quacking.

We bicycled around Fáskrúðsfjörður on the following bright sunny morning when the red roofs stood in stark outline against the fjord. There is nothing to the place but it is a pleasant enough stop to while away an hour and like all the fjord towns, the location is beautiful.

There is a lovely Foss Hotel on the harbour which occupies an old French hospital. The town was once a important base for French fishermen in Iceland; it is estimated about 400 boats were lost and 5000 sailors in the icy waters.

In recognition, the town is twinned with Gravelines in France and all the street signs are in both languages – they even hold a brocante in July! The Foss has a museum about the era which was bought to an abrupt end with the onset of WW1 followed by the Depression. 

Eskifjörður

We continued around the fjords to Eskifjörður, another colourful town in which to amble. There are lots of photogenic corners, from the whalebone arch to the old houses and jetties.

Driving eastwards along the fjord we were distracted by a carved wooden seal basking in a pond, the meagre ruins of a whaling factory which operated in the early 1900’s and fish drying sheds.

However, the most interesting stop was after 7 km at Helgustaðir, the old Icelandic spar mine. It sounds like everyone’s supermarket nightmare but this important mine ran from 1780 to 1930 and could justifyably be said to have helped change the world.

Between 1855-1872, 300 tonnes of calcite were extracted, largely due to the demand for the special prisms of calcite created by the Scotsman, Nicol, in 1830, which were used for optical instruments and microscopic lenses. The Icelandic calcite  was preferred for its size, transparency and clarity. 

A 500 m walk uphill leads to the old quarry where veins in the rocks can still be seen. There is a piece of old machinery and on a lower level it is possible to actually enter a tunnel which is about 80 m long – bring a torch and watch your head. Calcite crystals can be spotted in the ceilings and walls.

The slag heap outside positively glistens with small pieces, and by the 1950’s these little pieces were being used as rendering on housing with other rock types. The prisms were inevitably superceded by man made materials in the early 20th century. 

Neskaupsstaður

A tunnel leads on to Neskaupsstaður, the town at a lucky remove from it’s vast fish factory with matching fishing boats. It is a prosperous place with the nice Hotel Capitano in the centre. 

Where the road comes to an end on the far side of town, there is an easy one kilometre walk to Páskahellir Cave, with fabulous sea views en route. After the last ice age, 10,000 years ago, coastal lava was channelled out by the sea to produce a huge overhang. Holes in the back of the cave show where trees were covered with lava 12 million years ago.

Back at the car park, the lighthouse has a nice viewing platform over the fjord – the binoculars are free.

There is another fine viewpoint at Hólmanes, as one drives towards Reyðarfjörður. The elevated stony outcrop looks directly down the fjord.

Reyðarfjörður

After 9 weeks of travelling, Reyðarfjörður was to be our final stop in Iceland, it’s spacious grassy campsite in a scenic spot on the edge of the town. By then in early September, the midnight sun was far behind us and sunset was around 8 pm. By October 1st, it would be 6.30 pm. 

An enormous aluminium smelter, thankfully some kilometres away, has provided much needed local employment although it is a great eyesore on the fjord.

The Sesam Bakehouse provided some consolation with a superb range of bread and pastries including snúður, a type of sweet bread roll topped with various coloured and flavoured icings – or Icelandic dog turds as Simon insisted on calling them!

It seems a good point at which to end!