Camera! Action! Wait, no lights?

Allt hitt sýnilega og ósýnilega (All things seen and unseen)

If I may be permitted to borrow and corrupt a phrase from the Creed, this past week has been quite full of things “seen and unseen.”

Things I set out to see and did see: the lighthouse at the end of Seltjarnarness; Reykjavík’s only yellow-sand beach; the Perlan up close at night.

Things I set out to see and didn’t: the Northern Lights.

Things I did not set out to see but saw anyway: a seal, an incredibly bright full moon.

Things I did not set out to see and didn’t see either way: Halloween costumes. (Halloween is a non-event here, as evidenced by the fact that the only word for the day in Icelandic, which is normally so intent on finding its own word for everything, is borrowed: Hallovín.)


Last weekend I took advantage of the good weather and walked along that sea trail I’m always talking about, from Reykjavík proper all the way to the extreme end of the peninsula, where I finally got to see the Gróttuviti—the lighthouse set on a point that becomes an island every high tide. There’s nothing special about the lighthouse in particular, but I like lighthouses and that was enough of a motivation for me.

I also got to see Esja, my favorite mountain north of the city, and its neighbor Akrafell in some lovely early morning colors. (This is early morning sun-time, not clock-time, mind you; it was about 10:30 in the morning, but the sun had only come up two hours before.)

Then, yesterday, I took advantage of yet another nice day (how convenient when good weather happens to fall on a weekend!) to walk around the south side of the Perlan (that space-agey domed building I posted about awhile back) and down to the sea trail on the south side of town. Well, first I stopped at the Kringlan Mall to buy socks, because with all the walking I’ve been doing I’ve completely worn through half the pairs I brought with me! But then it was on to the trail.

After cutting accidentally through a graveyard, nearly falling on black ice, and wondering how all the old people I shared the trail with managed not to break their hips on the slick surface, I found Reykjavík’s beach, called Nauthólsvík—or more specifically, Ylströnd. They actually imported yellow sand to cover over the native black pebbles! Not only that, but they pump hot water into the sea when the beach is open so people can wade as though they didn’t live just below the Arctic Circle. The effect is rather hilarious than impressive, especially given that the whole place is only about the size of a basketball court, and they put a native twist to the idea of a beach by building a hot tub right at the edge of the water. But at least Iceland can say it has a beach, and that’s clearly what the motivation was!

Having tested the water to confirm that they do not, indeed, pump hot water in when the beach is technically closed, I continued along the sea trail and soon came across a black pebble strand (much nicer, I think, than the fake yellow beach) where a father was pointing out to his son something in the water. I followed his finger and to my surprise realized that there was a harbor seal about 20 yards out! Seals aren’t usually found around Reykjavík—and it’s even stranger to see one alone—but it was quite a sight. He was clearly playing peek-a-boo with the father and son, and when they left he took up the game with me. He’d dunk underwater, then pop up and look at me as though I was the oddest thing he’d ever seen. Then he’d dunk under again and come up a few feet to the left or right, then look at me some more until he decided to go under again.

It was so clear all day that a few of us decided to brave the cold (the bank sign said it was 34 degrees, but I am certain it was lying) and hike up the frost-covered hill of the Perlan in hopes of seeing the Northern Lights. Unfortunately, two factors were against us: there was not much magnetic activity in the atmosphere, and there was a full moon. So we stood looking out over Reykjavík for about an hour, knowing that we had to get up for an 8:20 class in the morning, and the Aurora Borealis didn’t see fit to show up for our pains.

But we did get some good pictures of the city and the Perlan in the dark!