Focus Westfjords - Allar fr�ttir

A hike along Talknafj�r�ur

Thu, 04 Feb 2010 14:34:00 +0000

The next morning, Jón and Nilli took us for a short visit to see the church at Stori Laugadalur, and then to hike out to see ´the monster rocks´ (skrimsla stappi) along Talknafjörður. The monster rocks are big chunks of basalt that have been worn by the pounding of the sea into shapes that resemble animals and other strange creatures of the imagination.

T�lknafj�r�ur, B�ldudalur&Patreksfj�r�ur

Wed, 03 Feb 2010 12:24:00 +0000

Heimferð var svo áætluð seinnipart sunnudags en um hádegið fórum við að skoða fjörurnar með Nilla og Jóni og einnig kirkjuna í Stóra-Laugardal. Mjög falleg kirkja sem var innflutt af norðmönnum og vígð árið 1907. Skelltum okkur svo í fjöruna við Kvígindisfell að skoða það sem heimamenn kalla Bæir en þar eru klettar, steinar og björg í allra kvikinda líki á gulri sandströndu. Stórkostlegt!

Skemmtileg ferð í alla staði!

Why the Westfjords, Part 2

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 15:55:00 +0000

In a presentation that Águst and I gave on this project at the University Centre in Ísafjörður in September, I made the comment that Westfjords were a relatively remote section of a relatively remote (to the rest of Europe) country. I don´t think I would make that comment again. I part, I feel uncomfortable calling the place remote because when I am there I don´t feel particularly remote, without access to the rest of the world, and realistically it is not that difficult to get to the Westfjords. From NY, I can make to Ísafjörður within 8 hours or so. And while there is some inconvenience as a result of having to change airports and flights, it in fact is easier to get there than are some places in the United States.

My hesitancy to classify the Westfjords as ‘remote´´ at this point is not, however, to deny that there are distinctive characteristics of this region that contribute to or are an effect of the fact that it is rather sparsely populated (about 7300 people in 9500 sq kilometers). One of these characteristics , that might contribute to the notion that the region is remote, has to do with the nature of access to the region. There are two flights a day in and out of Ísafjörður in the northwest, and two a week in and out of Bíldudalur in the southwest. Otherwise the rest of the region is accessible by car, or some sections in the north by boat or small plane.

There is a single system of roads (numbers 60, 61, 62, and 63) that makes a loop around the Westfjords roughly following the coastline (see the map on the Towns or Landscape pages). And then there are secondary roads which provide access to towns or farms located off the main roads. The character of the road system has a significant impact on the nature of life in the region. Most of the main roads (60, 61, 62, and 63)--about 75 % I would estimate--are paved, and the rest of the main road system and most of the secondary roads are unpaved. For the most part, the unpaved roads are in good enough condition for travel by passenger car, though travel along them is somewhat slow and laborious and inconvenient. While talking to a person in Reykhólar about the drive west to Patreksfjörður, I was told that, "You just follow the road, if you can call it that." The road is kind of rough in places. It is, for instance, considerably more convenient and faster to take the ferry from Stykkishólmur across Breiðafjörður when accessing the towns in the southwest Westfjords (Patreksfjörður, Talknafjörður, and Bídudalur) from the greater Reykjavik area.

In some places, especially in the west, the road passes from fjord to fjord by mountain passes (and consequently the road is closed during the winter); in other places (for example, in the north along the coast of Ísafjarðardjúp), the road tends to follow the coastline in and out of the fjords, and so the distance between locations via road is considerably longer than as the crow flies. And there are some sections (paved and unpaved) which are subject to objective hazards like rockfall or avalanches (the road between Ísafjörður and Bolungarvík, for example, is notorious-hence the tunnel project currently underway).

While some of the difficulties caused by these factors have been eased to some extent by the construction of tunnels and bridges (the first photo in the attached slide show shows the new bridge along Djúp from the air), the roads are a significant factor of life in the region. One effect of the infrastructure is that it renders some towns in the region nearly inaccessible (remote is a proper term to use here) from one another during the winter. The drive from Ísafjörður to Patreksfjörður, for example, in the summer is approximately 180 km; in the winter, since the west coast road is closed, it is closer to 800 km, a fair bit of which is somewhat treacherous (though I will say I haven't yet driven it in the winter, and my assessment is based on what I assume from my experience driving it in the fall and what I have been told). To get a sense of the drive, I spent a week driving the loop around the Westfjords heading east out of Ísafjörður. Many of the attached photos are from that drive.

In part as a consequence of the difficulty of access of one part of the region to others, it has occurred to me that the Westfjords might best be thought of not as a single region but as comprised of four different regions, each with its own identity, towns and set of concerns. The northwest (with its six main towns); the Strandir region with Holmavík as it main town in the northeast, the southeast region with Reykhólar as its main town, and which seems to identify itself more with Borganes and Akranes in the Vesturland region south of the Westfjords; and the southwest region with Patreksfjörður, Talknafjörður, and Bídudalur as its main towns. I am beginning to get a sense that this sense of four regions with different identities is significant politically as well, though I need to do more research before commenting on this.

The roads as well influence the economy in the area, the ability to (and cost of) import and export goods and services. In particular, in the southwest, the ferry is used rather extensively. The fish processing plant Þorsberg, in Talknafjörður, for example, gets its fresh fish on a truck that leaves town by four everyday to catch the last ferry to Stykkishólmur.

So, some more next week.

Why the Westfjords, Part 1

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 15:37:00 +0000

Over that past few months, Agust and I have tried to imagine the future of this project, what it will lead to. One of the things that we both hope is that we can turn this into a book, something that people in places quite different and distant from the northwest of Iceland might turn to with interest. Consequently, some writing needs to be done. Several people have pointed out that there are indeed many things that can be documented quite adequately using photographs; but there are things need to be written about in order to establish a sense of context—historical, geographical, cultural, and otherwise—to help readers understand the situations in which people live and events occur, to help readers understand not only what people do but why they are doing it. That said, I’d like to use this forum to start fleshing some things out, and to invite comments, questions, and suggestions from readers. (Jeez, I am committing myself to writing I guess.)

What do you want to know? What have we or I got wrong? What else might we look at or consider?

One of the questions that gets asked by people I speak with repeatedly, and indeed needs to be addressed in any kind of book or project, is “Why the Westfjords?” I think there are two questions that stem from this one: one is the question of why I, Matt, chose to go to the Westfjords to do this project (that is a sort of how did this project come about question), and the other is the question of why the reader should be interested in the Westfjords (which is more a question of what does the reader stand to gain from taking the time to look this over and consider the lives of people in the region).

I’ve told the story of the project several times, I think actually in a couple of different places around the website, and I want to keep it brief here. Essentially, I was chosen by the college that I work for to participate in a summer seminar to the North Atlantic to investigate the possibility of doing projects in the region. I was wanting to do a documentary project, particularly (at the time) on the lives of working people, and in my application to the seminar I began to lay out a project on the fishing communities in Iceland, and the kinds of changes that have taken place as a result of changes in the fisheries and fisheries management over the past twenty-five or so years. When I came to Iceland and visited the Westfjords, I began to get a sense of something a little different than what I had initially intended (one has to begin somewhere); a sense that there was something worth looking into by spending time in the Westfjords; a sense that I think was confirmed by the serendipitous crossing of mine and Agust’s paths on the docks in Isafjord—two people who share the same (or at least very similar) interests in photography, documentary, a very unique (special) place and the people who live there.

Since we have been doing the work over the past year, how to answer the question of “Why the Westfjords” has evolved somewhat. I think a significant part of it has to do with the tradition of documentary projects, so much of which has taken as its subject matter the lives of people who live in places rife with social and political conflict, or people whose lives might be classified as exotic or curious or alternative. In fact, one of the very interesting things about the Westfjords is that the place and people who live there don’t seem to easily fit into those categories. Indeed there are, like anywhere else, problems social and otherwise, and there are people who might be easily classified as exotic or at least eccentric (and who of us couldn’t be). But mostly, it seems to me a rather quiet place where people go about their day-to-day business of living life.

Agust and I have talked about this quite a bit, to the point where we have said to each other that people in the region are really just kind of normal, ordinary people, in certain ways not so different from the people I live among in the US and in other ways very different. This idea of people being “ordinary” often tends to imply something rather pejorative—commonplace, not of worthy of interest or concern. On the contrary, however, by trying to document daily life in the region we are very much trying to treat the idea of “ordinary” life as something that is worthy of attention. So little attention tends to paid to rather normal, ordinary (I am so conscious of classifications and the problems that result from using them) people and the ways in which they create their daily lives in response to the situations in which they live. And that is what we want to pay attention to here, to show that there is dignity to this kind of life, if not interest and something to be learned as well.

At least to me, an outsider, what seems to be so compelling about life in the Westfjords is the way that people have come to create a way of living in response to the particular conditions of the environment (natural and social) in which they live (the particulars of which I will write more about tomorrow). In this sense, they do what humans do, and to pay attention to how they do it seems essential to understanding what it means to be human (not just Icelandic, I think).

Questions? Suggestions? Comments?

Disaster Averted!

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 15:59:00 +0000

Well, the journal turned up. In Connecticut, of all places, where I was visiting last weekend. So good news, though I am still mired in a haze of jaw pain.

I was going through some photos last night, and it appears that I have some that I just can't classify, so I'll put a few up here.

Off to New York tomorrow morning, to spend a week doing a workshop with Magnum Photographers in Manhattan. Should be quite a learning experience. When I get back, I will scan every page of my notebook, and then get up the profiles I have drafted. So, more in about a week.

Disaster Strikes!

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 02:31:00 +0000

Well, at some time it seemed inevitable that something should go wrong. I have managed to misplace my notebook with all of my notes, contacts, names, places, Icelandic phrases, meanderings, ideas, stories, directions, shoping list, and everything that is really important. Disaster. This, I discovered today in the midst of a failed root canal and an extremely labourious and painful and prolonged after the fact extraction. So if you look up despondant in the dictionary, you will see a photographer of me, steeped in vicodin, In the midst of great despair, the best solution (or at least one) is some reflection. So here are some reflections out and about Djup and Pollinn.

Also, if you have given me your name and contact information so that i can send you a photo and stay in touch, would you please do so again? I'll be back in January and want to make sue to visit all of those whom I said I would. You can send me a mail to the site or to my other address: willenm@etown.edu

Ok I feel like I am typing in mud, thanks to the painkillers. so enjoy the picts. :-)

Focus Westfjords � V�sindaportinu

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 13:03:00 +0000

Á Vestfjörðum þvælist enn um ameríkaninn Matt. Hefur hann verið hér undanfarinn mánuð við að mynda og hitta fólk um alla Vestfirðina. Má segja að hann hafi ekið þá mest alla, að undanskildum Árneshreppnum og svo auðvitað þeim stöðum sem eigi er akandi. Það má finna nýtt efni undir Towns og þá prófíl um Reykhóla. Hitti Matt mjög mikið af áhugaverðu fólki og fékk svo ábendingar um enn fleiri og eru það upplýsingar sem við ætlum að vinna úr næstu mánuði. Matt sagðist greinilega finna fyrir því að fólk sé farið að kannast við verkefnið og er það vel og þökkum við áhugann. Því miður gat ég ekki farið með honum að þessu sinni vegna anna, en maður er víst í fullu starfi líka.

Nú ætlum við að fara að finna nokkra einstaklinga víðsvegar um Vestfirðina sem við gætum heimsótt og fengið að eyða degi eða tveim með og mynda hið daglega líf og spjalla létt um lífið og tilveruna. Stefnt er á að framkvæma þessa vinnu í janúar. Allar ábendingar um áhugavert og viljugt fólk til að taka þátt í þessu með okkur eru vel þegnar.

Svo langar mig að benda áhugasömum á að Matt mun verða með smá tölu um verkefnið í Háskólasetri Vestfjarða í hádeginu á morgun, nánara tiltekið kl: 12:15, endilega láttu sjá þig, hafir þú tök á því!

A Trip to Reykh�lar and other

Sat, 05 Sep 2009 13:47:00 +0000

I got into Ísafjörður on Tuesday morning and took a day to get rested and settled in. I am staying at Áslaug´s guest house again near the center of town, where I stayed for the month in May. Got started this time with visit to the Westfjords Heritage Museum to get some close up photographs of artifacts from the history of the fishing industry, and then rode over to Reykhólar with Gusti, who was on his way to Reykjavík for an appointment.

I’ll write up a profile on Reykhólar in the town section later today. Briefly, though, it is the most southern town in the Westfjords, located on a sort of broad peninsula that reaches out west into Breiðafjörður from its eastern shore. Unlike much of the rest of the Westfjords, it has its share of geothermal activity: the town´s name translates roughly to “smoky holes” which are abundant around the town. In fact, while there I tried some bread that was baked in the steam of one (takes 36 hours). I camped in town for a couple of nights, and was graciously escorted around the town (c. 280 people) by Eygló Kristjansdottir. On the way back on Friday, Gusti and I encountered some rather spectacular light, which culminated when we returned to Ísafjörður and Pollun was like a pane of glass. So Gusti arrange for a short boat trip around the harbor on an old wooden boat so we could photograph.

Noticing a couple of interesting things: First, when asking about the big changes that people have seen in the Westfjords in their lifetime, the improvement of the roads is a very common theme. These improvements include paving of roads, the construction of tunnels (which I have commented on before), and the construction of bridges. In fact, we had the good fortune of being able to cross the new bridge at Eyjasund the day before its grand opening. The bridge allows one direct access across Mjóifjörður without having to go all the way up to the head of the fjord and then traverse the highlands on a very rough road. It will also prove to be a boon to the town of Reykjanes in Djúp, as is brings travelers on the road from Ísafjörður to Holmavik or Reykjavík past the town (it was a healthy detour in the years before the bridge).

The second thing that I am getting a hint of has to do with perspectives, or ´expectations´ is perhaps the more accurate term. Many people at home who I have told about this project have commented that they thought life must be very hard in the Westfjords. In fact, I haven’t yet come across anyone who has commented about the difficulty of living here. I was talking with Eygló about this, and her sense was “No, it is just what you are used to,” a comment which suggests to me that people’s expectations tend to be consistent with the conditions of the living situation that they choose.

Finally, a third thing that continually resonates is the emphasis that individuals place on raising children as one of the extremely attractive things about living in the Westfjords. It is just a good place for kids, who can go out and play with friends, invent activities, and be safe.

Around Camp at Hornvik

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 17:15:00 +0000

The Hornstrandir Nature Preserve is located at the northernmost reaches of the Westfjords. The preserve was founded in 1975. Surprisingly, most of the land in the preserve is private, owned by families whose ancestors lived year round in the area up until the mid-1950s when the last year round residents left. Several dozen houses still stand in the preserve and are used as summer cottages in July and August by the families who own them. Living year round in this part of the Westfjords was a considerable feat, as we were told by a couple of folks whom we met and visited who used to live there when they were children. Winters are harsh, not to mention dark, and travel between houses in the winter was often carried out ski. There were no phones, so relatives were uncertain about the well being of each other for long stretches of time. Polar bears occasionally arrived on ice floats. May was a welcome month because with the harvest of bird eggs from the surrounding sea cliffs, settlers had their first fresh food in several months.

We arrived at Horn around two in the afternoon and set up camp. The camping area, just off the beach, is wide open and grassy. There are sand dunes in the area, lots of marsh, lots of waterfalls, and lots of purple and yellow wildflowers--amazing. We were great by the omnipresent campground foxes, who were fairly bold. The fox does very well in this part of the Westfjords, largely due to the fact that it is a protected animal meaning that they are not hunted (I am not aware of any natural predator in all of Iceland). During our visit, we not only encountered foxes, but a team of researchers studying mating couples in the area. Gusti knew the head of the team, Ester, from Bolungarvík and we stopped and talked with her on one of our day trips. She maintains a website, melrakki.is, that has quite a bit of information on the Arctic fox and is in Icelandic, English, German.

After setting up camp we took a walk around the dale at the head of the valley, which acquainted us with the terrain and with the stream crossings which, in places, are significant. Consistent with my track record of unexpected pleasant encounters with people, we ran into a family who owned one of the cottages in Hornvík fishing in one of the streams. One of the men, who was wearing waders, made one of the stream crossings considerably easier for us by carrying us across on his back, one at time that is. Gusti is a big guy but I am bigger yet, and I had to wonder how his back held out afterwards. They invited us to stop by their house the next day for coffee on our hike to Horn, and when we did he looked no worse for the wear. Or at least he didn´t let on that he was.

A Boat Trip

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 21:23:00 +0000

With the exception of Suðavík, about fifteen minutes from Isafjörður, the closest town to the east is Holmavík, which lies on the shore of Steingrimsfjörður on the east coast of the Westfjords. Judging from the scale on my map, it is only about 60 or 70 miles distant as the crow flies. Yet because route 61 follows the south coast along Ísafjarðardjúp in and out of each fjord, the trip by car takes 3 to 4 hours. Have a look at the map on this page: http://focuswestfjords.com/towns/

Via Facebook, Gusti managed to arrange a ride to Norðurfjörður (north of Holmavík) from a young woman from Ísafjörður, Victoria, and two of her friends who were interested in taking the drive to see that part of the Westfjords, which is a testimony to how infrequently the area is visited even by residents of the region. We made Holmavík by 9:00 p.m. where we stopped for dinner at a cozy restaurant with very good food and beer. I have spent very little time in Holmavík, a situation that I plan to correct in September. More on the place then. After dinner we headed north to our destination. The road north is dirt and gravel for most of the way, and follows the southern end of the Hornstrandir coast past Djúpavik with its old whaling and herring facility, and ends at Norðurfjörður. Beyond here, you can travel by foot into the Hornstrandir Nature Preserve, or do as most people do and take a boat.

Boats run to various desitinations from both the west coast of the Westfjords (from Ísafjörður and Bolungarvík) and from the east coast (from Holmavík and Norðurfjörður). Gusti´s friend Reimar runs the service out of Norðurfjörður, and he shuttled us into Hornvík and we caught another boat four days later back to ísafjörður.

We caught up with Reimar and his mate ... [Gusti, help me out here, I can‘t read my handwriting!] around 11:00, and the invited us in for a beer and to sleep where we could in their cabin rather than set up the tent for the night. Aside from being a helluva nice guy and a great host, Reimar is a seasoned captain and has a very nice boat for shuttling travelers around Hornstrandir. The boat (which I estimate to be 8 to 10 meters long and 3 wide) was built for the dual purpose of providing transport in the summer months (both of them) and for fishing in the winter. You wouldn't know that it was used for the latter when traveling during the summer. It provides very clean and comfortable transport for about two dozen people and their gear. I was surprised to see how modern the controls for the boat are. He pilots the boat via several computer monitors which provide information on everything from location and depth of sea to engine conditions.

His trips to Hornstrandir consist of ferrying people and their gear to locations in the preserve and providing sightseeing. Secured to the back of the boat is a raft with an outboard engine that is used for shuttling people and gear from the boat to shore (there are no docks in the Hornstrandir). Along the trip he talks with the passengers and points out some of the natural scenery. One of the highlights for most is a dip under the waterfall just beyond the lighthouse at Latravík (check out the photos). His website is located HERE, and aside from additional photos there is information on his trips. It is in Icelandic.

Reimar shuttled us to the campground at Hornvík, a three and a half hour trip and common destination which provides passengers with access to hikes along the spectacular cliffs on the north coast. The classic, I suppose, is the hike to Horn, which appears to be the northern most point of the Westfjords, located at the top of a 300 meter drop straight down to the ocean. We were accompanied by a group of nurses who deboarded at Latravík and then hiked over to Hornvík, and a group of day travelers.

I will pick up on visiting Horstrandir tomorrow.