June 16th, 2025 - Whale Watching

We got up ear­ly, filled and emp­tied the camper, filled up with gasoil, and then arrived right on time at the meet­ing point of the whale watch­ing com­pa­ny. There, we were picked up by a minibus.

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The whale watch­ing com­pa­ny Keli Sea Tours is locat­ed fur­ther out­side the city on the fjord, and the dri­ve there took about 30 min­utes. The vil­lage we drove to is called Hau­ganes and is locat­ed up the fjord towards Dalvík. Once we arrived, we real­ized that we could have eas­i­ly dri­ven here in our camper and then board­ed the boat. There is also a camp­ground there. Next time we’ll be smarter. Before the boat trip, we had to get prop­er­ly dressed. The over­alls pro­vid­ed keep you nice and warm and are also designed to keep you alive if you fall over­board, at least until you are rescued.

Our boat - a for­mer fish­ing boat - was sim­ply called “Whales,” which was already promising:

After a short dri­ve, the first hump­back whales appeared. Impres­sive­ly large ani­mals. Here are some pho­tos from the tour:

The tour last­ed about two hours. After­wards, we were tak­en back to Akureyri by minibus and then con­tin­ued east­ward in the camper. Our next des­ti­na­tion was an old church, the Gröf turf church (Ice­landic: Gra­farkirk­ja). It is locat­ed off the ring road in the mid­dle of nowhere and was there­fore not very crowded.

The lit­tle church was built in the late 17th cen­tu­ry, prob­a­bly under the influ­ence of Bish­op Gís­li Þor­láks­son. This makes it one of the old­est sur­viv­ing build­ings in Ice­land. Nev­er­the­less, its future was uncer­tain for a long time: from 1765, on the orders of the Dan­ish king, it was no longer allowed to be used for reli­gious ser­vices and was even sup­posed to be demol­ished. Instead, it sur­vived as a sim­ple stor­age room until the Nation­al Muse­um acquired it in 1939 and final­ly had it restored in 1950. In 1953, it was cer­e­mo­ni­ous­ly re-consecrated.

The build­ing itself is a lit­tle gem: just over six meters long and bare­ly more than three meters wide, it can accom­mo­date 25 peo­ple. The walls are made of thick lay­ers of turf, and the roof is cov­ered with sod. Par­tic­u­lar­ly worth see­ing are the baroque-style altar, ornate carv­ings, and col­or­ful murals, which were restored by the painter Vigdís Kristjánsdottir.

One spe­cial fea­ture makes the Gröf turf church unique in Ice­land: it stands in the mid­dle of a ring-shaped ceme­tery whose walls date back to the 17th century.

As we arrived at the church, the sky had closed in, but this cre­at­ed a mag­i­cal light­ing atmos­phere. The drone was also put to use again:

We then con­tin­ued west to Koluglju­fur, a canyon with a water­fall. On the way there, we spot­ted some Ice­landic hors­es with foals by the side of the road. Although we had seen them many times dur­ing our tour, we had nev­er had a good oppor­tu­ni­ty to pho­to­graph them. Now there was a park­ing space for our large camper, which we took advan­tage of. Below are some pho­tos of these beau­ti­ful animals:

The Ice­landic horse is tru­ly unique: small, robust, and incred­i­bly ver­sa­tile. Although it is often referred to as an “Ice­landic pony,” its pow­er­ful build means it can eas­i­ly car­ry adults.

Its char­ac­ter­is­tic fea­ture is its spe­cial gaits. In addi­tion to walk­ing, trot­ting, and gal­lop­ing, all Ice­landic hors­es mas­ter the famous tölt, an extreme­ly com­fort­able four-beat gait that is genet­i­cal­ly ingrained in them. Many can also per­form the fast pace - a real high­light in competitions.

Breed­ing is par­tic­u­lar­ly strict: only hors­es with­out any cross­breed­ing may be called “Ice­landic hors­es.” And a unique detail ensures that the breed remains so pure: no hors­es may be import­ed into Ice­land – and once they have left the island, they may nev­er return.

At around 5:30 p.m., we reached Koluglju­fur Canyon with its mul­ti-tiered water­fall. This is also locat­ed off the ring road and was there­fore much less crowded:

Die Schlucht Kolugil wurde vom Fluss Víði­dal­sá in die Land­schaft gegraben – und gle­ich drei Wasser­fälle stürzen hier in die Tiefe: der Efrifoss, der Kolu­foss und der Neðri-Kolu­foss. Ihren Namen ver­danken sie der Sagengestalt Kola, ein­er Riesin, die der Leg­ende nach in der Schlucht lebte. Beson­ders ein­drucksvoll ist der Blick von der kleinen Straßen­brücke über dem oberen Wasser­fall: Auf der einen Seite sieht man den tosenden Fall, auf der anderen die enge Schlucht. Erre­ich­bar ist dieses Natur­wun­der ganz ein­fach über die Straße 715, die von der Ringstraße abzweigt.

Our next and final pho­to des­ti­na­tion that day was a rhi­no 😉, the Hvít­serkur. We arrived there short­ly after 7:00 p.m. The large basalt rock in the sea real­ly does look almost like a graz­ing white rhi­no (okay, the horn is on the back of its head, but oth­er­wise?), does­n’t it?

On the east coast of the Vatnsnes penin­su­la, a bizarre rock ris­es out of the sea: Hvít­serkur, the “white smock.” How­ev­er, its light col­or is not due to the rock itself, but to the count­less birds that use it as a nest­ing place—their traces cov­er the approx­i­mate­ly 15-meter-high basalt rock.

Its shape, with its two bulges, is rem­i­nis­cent of a drink­ing drag­on or a giant ani­mal, mak­ing Hvít­serkur a pop­u­lar pho­to motif. Ice­landers, how­ev­er, tell a dif­fer­ent sto­ry: it was once a troll who threw stones at the Þingeyrar monastery – until the sun sur­prised him and he turned to stone.

The strik­ing rock even made it onto an Ice­landic stamp in 1990.

As it was already very late, we searched Google Maps for a camp­site near­by. We decid­ed to go to the one in Hvamm­stan­gi, locat­ed to the west on the oth­er side of the penin­su­la. The camp­site was very nice and qui­et, but not very big. After din­ner in the camper, we fin­ished off the evening with anoth­er episode of the Net­flix series KATLA.