We returned our rental car today now that we’re done the rural part of our Iceland trip and are installed in our apartment in Reykjavik.

We rented a Toyota Auris from Hertz: it’s a hatchback like a Volkswagen Golf, and was a pleasant car to drive. Total cost for a four-day rental was $360 Canadian, or $90 per day. Because the Icelandic Hertz is an affiliate the rental, which I made on the Hertz website, was deducted from my credit card immediately on reservation and I was faxed a voucher to show to the rental desk in Iceland; this wasn’t an issue, but it may have made cancelling the reservation more difficult.

I compared pricing from Hertz with pricing from locals like Geysir and there didn’t seem to be a significant enough price difference to warrant going local.

Pick-up at Keflavik Airport was seamless: the rental counter is just outside the arrivals door and we were in and out in 5 minutes. They sell a very comprehensive road atlas at Hertz which I recommend: it’s got details of every road in the country along with commentary about sights to see, detailed town and city maps, and charts detailing everything from Icelandic sheep breeds to hospital locations. It’s only about $17. There’s also a nice coffee shop that makes a good cappuccino and croissant — it’s right up the hall from Hertz.

The car itself was outside in the parking lot a short walk from the terminal, and it’s easy to find your way on to the main highway (Keflavik is about 50km from Reykjavik). At the Hertz desk they gave me a card to stick in the machine at the exit to raise the gate.

Although it’s possible to see rural Iceland by bus — either public transit or organized tours — having a car allowed us to get, literally, off the beaten path, and we saw things that we couldn’t have seen, and stayed places we couldn’t have stayed otherwise. I’m glad we opted for it.

The main “ring road” around Iceland is paved, and is of the quality that you’d be used to in North America or Europe. In fact it’s probably much better quality than you’re used to. Off the ring road we found routes to major tourist destinations — Geysir, Gullfoss, etc. — paved and of similar quality; further into the hinterland we encountered a mixture of paved and gravel roads.

Some of the gravel roads were “washboarded” because it’s been raining all throughout September, but they were generally wide enough for two cars to pass each other, and while we did encounter some fairly massive potholes in the really rural areas, especially on the approaches to bridges, this was the exception rather than the rule, and there’s no reason to avoid gravel roads — just be sure to follow the speed limit and watch the transition from paved to gravel.

The only genuine adventure driving required was on a brief stretch along the south coast that was under construction: there was one patch that felt a lot like off-road driving, and I think if I’d let my foot off the accelerator we’d have sunk into a quagmire. But, again, exception not rule and easy to avoid.

Outside of Reykjavik traffic was non-existent. In fact saw only two other cars on the first half of the first day, and on our journey off the main roads into the valley yesterday we didn’t see a single car for most of the day. There were more cars nearer tourist areas and in Reykjavik we encountered a genuine traffic jam. Of course we’re here in the off season; I expect you’d fine more traffic in the rural areas in the summer.

With our simple 2-wheel drive car we had to keep off the roads marked with an “F” on the map and on road signs: you need a 4x4 for these. We caught a glimpse of one of these roads, and drove about 500m in to take a picture: it was obvious why you needed 4-wheel drive and a high clearance.

We drove a total of 710 km over four days, taking in sections of the south and west parts of Iceland. Gasoline was around $1.85 a litre, and the car averaged 35 miles/gallon (7.8 litres/100 km) over the trip; we spent about $100 on gasoline in total.

One thing to note if you’re from North America and don’t have a PIN number with your credit card: the automated gas stations won’t work for you. This wasn’t a big problem for us, as we found staffed stations when we needed gas, and no PIN was required there.

I returned our car to the Reykjavik City Airport Hertz location — there’s wasn’t a “one-way” charge for this and, in fact, I think I saved money doing this because I didn’t have to pay the Keflavik Airport fee on the return end. In any case, it was certainly a lot easier to return the car in the city than it would have been to make our way out to Keflavik and then back into the city. Although the Hertz location at the City Airport seems suburban when you arrive there, it was only 20 minutes walk into the heart of Reykjavik.

We didn’t really have a plan for today. So we woke up and headed down to breakfast here at Hraunsnef Country Hotel with only a sketchy idea of what the day would hold.

I choose this hotel almost completely at random: I knew we wanted to see something of Western Iceland, and that we wanted to be in the countryside, but that was about it. Iceland Farmholidays was where I turned first, but they have a “you can’t book a specific place” policy that didn’t strike me as all that convenient. Hraunsnef, although a member of their network, also allows independent bookings, however, so lured in by their website, I booked two nights. It wasn’t until we arrived that we got some concept of the area.

Under the counsel of our friendly host, we decided to spend the day looping up Highway 518. It was quite a journey: by my rough calculation we passed through about a dozen geologic epochs and just as many biological regions: we saw everything from verdant riverside fields full of sheep to bouldered Moon-like landscapes:

Highway 518 winds its way up one side of a valley and back down the other. At the apex of the loop you can almost see the Langjökull glacier — if we’d had a more powerful car we could have driven closer, but one look at the “F” road that led that way (the designation given to “you need a 4x4” roads) and we realized that we had to be content with a faraway look:

Down the other side we passed a little country church with an “organ” made of rocks:

And a little bit down the road an impressive waterfall that came out of the side of a river:

The tiny village of Reykholt was where we stopped for lunch. Alas we stopped at 2:06 p.m. and the only restaurant in town, at the big tourist hotel, closed for lunch at 2:00 p.m., so we had to be content with bread and cheese from the gas station (good bread, though). Reykholt is an important historic site in Iceland, a centre of literature and religion; while the modern and historic churches are indeed impressive, the museum under the church is moribund and not at all a must-see. We did learn, however, that it’s time to cut Oliver loose next week:

At the end of Highway 518 is Deildartunguhver, the largest geothermal spring in the world: it spews out 50 gallons of boiling water a second, water that’s piped long-distance to the towns of Borgarnes (34 km) and Akranes (64 km):

By this time the day was late, and Oliver needed to pee, necessitating a quick over-land jaunt to the gas station. Then back to Hraunsnef for a soak, another excellent supper, and, soon, sleep.

Oliver and I have both become a little obsessed with the Icelandic scheme for assigning names to children. When I first read that one side-effect of this is that the telephone books are sorted by first name here I didn’t believe it, but yesterday I got a chance to open one up, and it’s true:

We have solved the mystery of why Oliver’s ice cream sundae was called Ok — across the valley from our hotel lies a volcano named “Ok.” Catherine spotted it on the map this morning.

The silver lining in the rain clouds that have hung over Iceland since we arrived has been rainbows. All over the place. So many rainbows that we stopped taking photos, even though they were spectacular:

It rained all night last night, hard and steady. It was raining when we went to breakfast, and raining when we left breakfast. But, miracle of miracles, it was bright and sunny 30 minutes later when we headed out of Frost and Fire for the last time (capsule review: very nice guest house in an amazing location; recommended).

The sun made for a much better day, especially as it was the one we set aside to see the triple crown of Iceland’s tourist attractions: Geysir, Gullfoss and Þingvellir.

From Hveragerði we headed east to Selfoss and then north toward Geysir. The road, like all paved roads we’ve driven here, was well marked and in good shape. Along the way we passed through half a dozen geological wonders, and just before Noon we rolled into Geysir, the mother of all “really hot water spurting from the earth” natural wonders and the one that gave its name to all others.

Geysir itself has been dormant for some time; fortunately its sister Strokkur is right beside, and it goes off every 5 or 6 minutes in a spectacular display of shooting water:

After a quick lunch of Northumberland Ferries-style pizza in the visitor centre, and a quick tour through the interpretive centre (not worth the 1600 krónur), we were back on the highway headed north to Gullfoss.

The same relaxed attitude toward public safety that we experienced yesterday with road construction carried on to the grand waterfall Gullfoss: the idea seems to be that if you are an idiot, you probably deserve to die, and they’re not going to stand in your way. Which means that you have complete and total access to the waterfall, and can walk right up to its edge:

Children being children, Oliver announced that he needed to pee once we’d climbed all the way down the stairs from the hilltop viewing platform. Catherine, perhaps not so eager to go to the edge in any case, gamely volunteered to take him back up while I got as close as I, in my self-policing Canadian way, could manage while still maintaining proper safety protocols.

From Gullfoss we nipped back down past Geysir and then headed overland on gravel road 365 to Þingvellir, the spiritual heart of Icelandic government — an assembly was founded there around 930 and continued to meet there until 1798. It also happens to be located at the end of scenic Lake Þingvallavatn, and, if all that isn’t enough, is the site of a rather significant rift in the earth’s crust.

When we parked the car and started off down the path to see Þingvellir’s sights it was bright and sunny. By the time we got 500m down the path a freak rain cum hail storm appeared out of nowhere and we got soaked to the skin. As a result, save for reading a few signboards and getting a general sense of the spirit of the place, our true Þingvellir will have to wait until next time. Even without the democracy and the continental drift, it’s a pretty beautiful place:

By the time we got changed into warm clothes we realized it was getting late, so we packed up and drove west to join the Ring Road, and then north, through a 6km undersea tunnel, through Borgarnes and along to Hraunsnef Country Hotel.

Hraunsnef is one of those places that has “labour of love” written all over it: it’s a handcrafted hotel on a hill overlooking an impressive vista. There’s a hot pot (Icelandic for “hot tub”) beside a babbling brook, and a bang-up restaurant serving supper.

And for supper I had grilled salmon with garlic potatoes (excellent) and Catherine and Oliver shared an order of fish and chips (the speed of eating by Oliver proved that they too were very good).

Oliver and I each ordered Ok from the dessert menu — a chocolate sundae with caramel sauce. Mmmm.

We’re here for another night tomorrow, so we’ll spend the day touring about western Iceland, relaxing in the hot pot, and, I hope, enjoying another meal downstairs.

Early, early, early this morning we arrived in Iceland (our plane from Halifax touched down at Keflavik at 4:55 a.m.). With hours and hours to go before we could even begin to think about a hotel check-in, we took things easy: found Hertz, got the rental car keys, grabbed a coffee, parsed our new road atlas (best 2000 krónur I’ve ever spent!). So it wasn’t until 6:58 a.m. that we hit the road:

It was 5 degrees C and raining when we left Keflavik — just a light drizzle. Because our first night’s lodging, in Hveragerði, was only an hour’s drive away, we took the long way round, heading down to Grindavík and the east along the coast, taking our time.

After curling up to die in a grocery store parking lot in Grindavík for a few hours — lack of sleep, jet lag, etc. — our first real stop of the trip was at Selatangar, an abandoned coastal fishing village about 12 km east. To get there we made our first transition from paved to gravel roads, and then a further transition to “gravel track” when we turned off the highway at the tiny marker that points the way.

Selatangar wasn’t exactly on the tourist track — we didn’t pass a single car for the entire journey there and away — and the rain had increased to a steady downpour by the time we arrived, but it was certainly worth the visit: the houses of the village, last occupied in the 1880s, were constructed of lava bricks, and many are still intact, albeit missing roofs:

One odd thing about Selatangar was the amount of garbage we came across strewn over the area: everything from fishing nets to deodorant bottles. At first I thought this was a result of rowdy Icelanders driving out and dumping their refuse on the site; then I realized that it was all coming from the ocean. I had no idea there was so much floating around in the water waiting to wash up in the middle of nowhere.

From Selatangar we continued east to visit Strandarkirkja, a tiny perfect church right a stone’s throw from the ocean:

We grabbed a coffee at a little place just up the road to tide us over, and around 1:30 p.m. we headed toward Hveragerði in earnest. Our journey was slowed somewhat by some hard-edge road construction: they don’t seem to bother with flag-people on road crews here, so there was some harrowing “oh, that’s a front end loader about to drop a load of lava rock” driving to be done. We emerged out the other end and hit pavement once again, and were in Hveragerði 10 minutes later.

Following the advice of Rough Guide, we had lunch at Cafe Kidda Rót in the plaza on the edge of town: turned out they make an excellent burger and a serviceable asparagus soup and we left happy.

Frost and Fire Guesthouse, our home for the night, was a quick drive through town up the hill. As with road crews so went hotel check-in: reception was empty so I picked up the house phone and the woman on the other end promised to be right there. She arrived two minutes later, walked me to our room, and then disappeared: no credit card check, no “what’s the license plate number of your vehicle,” no passports or ID required. Her only instructions: “you can use the pool and hot pot whenever you want.” I could get used to this laissez faire approach to service.

And after a long soggy day, we were ready for a swim and a soak:

The air was 7 degrees C. The walkway to the pool from our room froze our feet. But the 38 degree water cured whatever ailed us and we spent a good hour lolling about.

For supper we headed up the road into Selfoss to eat at Menam, a Thai restaurant. Very, very good Thai food too: coconut ginger chicken, spicy beef, deep-fried shrimp all served over rice with a salad on the side.

As I type Catherine and Oliver are fast asleep and the rain continues unabated. Tomorrow we’re going to walk up the hill across the river to see the new geothermal action created by a 6.5 earthquake they had here in May, and then we’ll do the Golden Circle, or at least part of it, before heading northwest to Borgarbyggð where we’ll spend the next two days exploring western Iceland.

Four or five times a year I call my credit card companies to tell them I’ll be travelling overseas. Without fail the reaction from the agent taking the call is “we do appreciate you taking the time to letting us know.” Always: Visa, Mastercard, business, personal. There must have been some sort of credit card industry study that suggested that thanking customers for calling encourages them to call back the next time.

For more credit card fun, see How Not to Renew Your Expired Credit Card from Steven Garrity.

The whY Condos, at the corner of Prince and Euston in Charlottetown, have a new website, a new weblog and a curvy new sign out on the front lawn:

This weekend was the weekend of the 70 Mile Coastal Yard Sale, a seemingly endless opportunity to acquire mouldy books, stuffed animal characters from cancelled kids TV shows and souvenirs from Branson, MO. So G., Oliver and I headed out as usual along the Trans-Canada toward Wood Islands, battling more traffic than in previous years, in search of elusive bargains.

My big finds of the year were the Amazing Race DVD board game ($5 - paid too much, but it was my fault) and a set of artistic Crumpler alphabet fridge magnets (25 cents). Oliver was convinced to buy a candle for Catherine by a former classmate who did a very effective selling job, and G. made his usual book and ephemera purchases.

The shopping ended in Murray River where we had lunch on the patio at Finnan Haddie Bistro (where they make a very nice onion ring and a credible BLT, but need more than just one washroom).

We circled back up through Montague to check out the new bridge and were back in town around 4:00 p.m., each of us more exhausted than the other.

As the Tuesday forecast for Iceland makes clear, we’re not traveling there for the good weather/

Oh, and apparently they have frequent earthquakes in Iceland.