Flatey




On the ferry heading to Flatey.  It was a bit out of season, so there were very few passengers on board.  We weren't sure if there was actually going to be ferry service today due to lack of passengers.



The waves slammed against the lower-deck windows.



On the upper deck, the wind was forceful and unforgiving.  I had to latch onto the rails to stay upright, but the views from up there were well worth it, at least until I felt the chill bite into my skin.



Rocky little two-tone islands just off the coast of Flatey.



A lighthouse in the distance, with mountains even more in the distance.



We arrived at Flatey!  Sailors move the exit ramp in position so we can walk off comfortably.



This little car is designed to load cargo onto boats.



The lighthouse no longer in the distance.  Mountains are still in the distance though.



Icelandic sailor.  I liked his "Flatey" hat.  He wears a hat that advertises this cold little island in the middle of nowhere.  I can appreciate that.



The side of the ferry that brought us here, showing the route it takes.  The ferry would continue on to its last stop, partially shown here, then return to Flatey at a specified time.  We would have to be ready and waiting when the ferry arrived.  Otherwise we would be stuck on this cold little island till morning  Sea Tours is the name of the company that sells the tickets.



We're exploring Flatey now.  Dry grass streaked with snow stretches to the surrounding sea.



Bye ferry!  Please remember to pick us up!



Fish is left out to dry on this wooden rack.



The island also had its fair share of large patches of ice.



Mountains seemed so close, all around us, but there was no way to reach them.  Not that we wanted to reach them.  Seemed even colder on the mountains.



We see these buildings along the one road on the island.



Using my camera's zoom, I was able to snap a picture of these other buildings on the far side of the island.  To the left is the residential area.  Like the church in Reykjavik, this island's church was also under construction.



We walked a little further to see the houses of Flatey.  Most of these are summer homes.  Very few people (3 or 4) live on the island during the winter.



Eventually you recognize beauty even in icy patches, being on an island without people.



Part of a ship serving as a monument to Flatey's fishermen.



Cutest post office ever.  I think the postman here should be given a smartcar to match it.



Perhaps they can't decide what to put on a sign of such permanence.



These sheep know that the scenery would only be half as good without their agricultural charm.



One sheep wonders how I could possibly survive without lots of wool.



Ya know, Ernie, them mountains are really something.  I just love looking at those mountains.



All you do all day is go on and on about those damn mountains, Albert!  I'm sick of it!  Would walk away from you if it weren't so damn cold.  Nice earring though!



Sheep poop.



On Flatey, there's a small old cemetary.  People connected to Flatey were buried there.  You have to admit, this scenery sure beats that cemetary near the mall.



Last names that end with "dottir" are very Icelandic.  We saw a lot of them.



Some of the headstones with older Icelandic script reminded me of those puzzles where each letter maps to another letter.  The only thing is, it looks like one big word.  Maybe it's some sort of printing block, where if you want to transcribe a letter on your poster, you align the paper then do a rubbing of it.



The better fisherman you were, the more your tombstone stands out.



There were numerous signs that these graves are looked after diligently.  Honestly, there's only so much to do on the island, so instead of catching the latest movie, resident folks might go for a walk with their pet sheep and have a chat with their dearly departed on the way.  Okay, probably not.



Here's a symbol at the cemetary gateway that conveys to graverobbers a hint of who they're messing with.  I can't imagine too many graverobbers looting this island anyway.  I mean, it's much easier just to hit the cemetary near the mall.



The church, sporting the most expensive door on Flatey,  has been going through renovation during the offseason.



Just like in Stykkishólmur, here's another chart table showing the distance and direction to various points around Iceland.



Barbed wire fences run along a snowy ditch.



We approach the houses of Flatey.



Félagshús is a historic hús, being the oldest hús in Flatey.  According to the sign, it was built in 1843.



I invaded the privacy of the historic Félagshús, taking a picture through the window.  That chair has to be bad for the back.



In case of emergency, everyone in Flatey must crowd into this little boat.  According to the sign, this little area is a historic preservation area dated back to 1833.



Here's "the sign" I've been referring to.  Do some reading on your own.  I'm tired.



This, according to that sign, is a "breakwater", which definitely looks like it's designed to keep a small area of water protected from the whims of the Atlantic.



When the travel to the lighthouse is needed and the sea is calm enough, someone can take a little boat out of the breakwater and make a run for it.

 

As restless as the water is for attention, face it, everyone would prefer to see the mountains and clouds, so I adjusted the exposure accordingly.



This man is proud to be a captain.  I really hope he's a captain and not just trying to fit in.



Here's a really well-insulated roof that's a pain in the ass to maintain.  However, if the roof is barely higher than the front door, maybe it's not so bad.



We were promised a home-cooked meal of European shag on this island.  At a certain time afterward, we had to be waiting for the ferry or we would be stuck on the island.  The problem is, we didn't know which house to go to for the food and had only so much time to eat and get back to the dock.  We first tried peeking in a few windows and knocking on a few doors, including one that looked like Flatey's only restaurant.  Elfa tried her cell phone a few times, trying to get in touch with the ones who arranged the dinner, wanting directions.  Meanwhile, we were really cold.  I had to keep moving around to stay warm.  The cold was reaching my core through my four layers.



We did our best to distract ourselves from the cold and our impending doom, immersing ourselves in a never-ending onslaught of photography.



If the temperature was slightly colder, perhaps the sea would have froze up and we could have skated back to the mainland.



We went back to the sheep and considered unorthodox ways to stay warm.  Apparently chickens had the same idea, and we didn't want to stoop down to their level.



Finally we found the right place to go to.



This map of Flatey would have been more useful before we arrived.



Finally dinner was served.  It wasn't European shag that was served.  The nice lady that cooked for us actually cooked "cormorant" instead. Never heard of this bird before I ate one. We also had fresh cheese and homemade bread with butter.



Also rice and veggies and potatoes.  Soaking up the gravy the bird was served with was scrumptious.



Here's a closeup of the potatoes.  I'm hungry again.



Our meal was prepared here.  I have to admit, this is a classy kitchen.



Here's a picture of me with my four layers on, Luis to the left, and the resident chef in the middle.  She was also selling some Icelandic wool socks, hats, and gloves.  I bought socks from her for myself, and gloves for my girlfriend who was hopefully much warmer than I was at the moment.  I just wanted to make sure I wouldn't be as cold ever again, and after seeing the sheep, I figured wool was the way to go.



We barely made it to the dock in time, but the ferry wouldn't have been too quick to leave.



The ferry couldn't align itself too well with the dock, so they couldn't hook up the ladder to the doorway.  We had to hop over a gap to get aboard.  Here's them helping Elfa.  Elfa has too much pride not to be embarrassed at this "damsel in distress" photo-op.



We're speeding away from Flatey.  As is frequently with my adventures, the experience was traumatic but in the end, definitely worth it.  The sun lights up the faces of the shrinking structures on the island, including the church.



Luis took a picture with the rusty hook in the foreground too.



Luis and I were having a battle of picture-taking.  Elfa quickly grew tired of our juvenile amusements.



You can really see get a sense of the sea's shape when the sun is setting.



Clouds covered most of the sun as it set, but I'm sure it wouldn't have compared to Mount Fuji anyway.  So there.



Back