The Westman Islands

Forgive me for being lazy. 

There are a lot of photos in this post!

Last week was quite demanding. This family's incompetence goes against so many ethics I'm accustomed to from my upbringing. Marine feels frustrated in the same way. Because of our parents and role models, we expect adults to clean up after themselves. Not here in this Icelandic family. I mean, the kids are bad enough, but damn, do we need half of these messes made by the father? Do both parents really need to ignore every piece of food, every drop of sauce, jelly, and milk that hits the floor, and expect us to clean it up the next day after it dries? Their house should be a mouse’s favorite restaurant, but we have yet seen one.
Unbelievable.

Thankfully, that week was sandwiched between two remarkable weekends.

This weekend was all about meeting new friends and hanging out downtown Reykjavik, and
two weekends ago, we were at the spectacular Westmen Islands located south of Iceland. We traveled by ferry and stayed on the largest island, Heimaey, for two nights.  

Goodbye, Mainland. 

F, you're in trouble. Here's a lifesaver:

Coming through the Westmen harbor. 

The whole weekend was "lets-have-soup-weather"... 

but it did not prevent Marine and I to explore. What an amazing experience. 

Again, click on these pictures to see detail. This one, children drew the town and the volcanoes with chalk on the side of this concrete house.

A massive volcano erupted on the island of Heimaey in 1973. The eruption lasted five months. All of the people made it safely to the mainland. Three hundred and sixty homes were covered by lava and ash. You can see the edge of where the lava stopped over thirty years ago behind this house with a strange rock garden: 

The house that was there..

Someone's old roof. 

They call it the "Pompei of the North". 

Most of the inhabitants were anxious to get back. Over the next two years, people from the mainland and people from around the world dedicated themselves to help clean away the ashes and save the foundations that could be recovered. 
Above the town.
You can see a chimney peeking up from the ground. Walking on this path gave me chills, knowing that beneath our feet were once homes.

After the surreal encounter of what used to be a large part of the town, Marine and I hiked up the mountains of lava rocks overlooking Heimaey. And our morning just got better and better.

(The pictures of us together were done by a timer on my camera. Nobody else was with us, which was awesome.)

If you ever get the chance to visit Iceland, which I hope you do, trek through a valley or up a mountain of lava rock. Preferably when some of it is covered by fresh green moss. The moss feels like stepping on pillows, but you can still grab on to stable rocks to help you climb.

This picture is dedicated to Merle Connelly:

(I haven't come across any mushrooms, but I thought these were delightful.)

Eventually, we made our way down to the shore.

That little black house is the oldest house in Iceland. They made the inside a little historical museum which includes the first few books in Iceland, medical supplies from when the house was the first hospital in Iceland, and enchanting old pictures and furniture of important figures in Icelandic history.  It is my dream house.
 

We took a long walk by the ocean, and discovered a secret cave.

-I didn't mean to strike an odd pose in that last photo. I kept touching my hat to see how wet it was getting, because of the mist. We really didn't mind it, though. I think it made everything seem more colorful and alive.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! I know it was a long one. Believe me, I know. I'm going to bed now.

Love and Light. 

(My dear friend Dana says that, and I think it's a pleasant message to end with.)