I've said it before, it's quite a special feeling flying into Iceland. The enormity of what this country has to offer is not represented at Keflavik airport...yet at the same time, it sort of is. A little pocket of splendidness in the middle of nowhere, like everything here. Yet even the nowhere itself has a stunning beauty. Arriving at around midnight, the sun is kissing the horizon, making a reappearance sometime around 03.00am, light nights adding another layer to the magic here.
A grey morning, my running shoes on and Garmin set, I make out along the coastal path towards the lighthouse and Bjork Park. There's not much happening, but once away from the houses, it's quiet, but for the birds and the gentle lapping of waves. It's rough and rugged, nondescript, almost. It's my first run since Sunday, my chest rattling, it's good to feel a bit of energy in my legs for once. It was as much as I could muster to walk up the stairs a few days ago.
Coming back into town, I stop in the dockyards where the trawlers are being repaired. I remember a few years ago, this was a gritty and industrial area. There was, and still is a small cafe that was inhabited by salty sea dogs, a story lingering in every crease and fold of their weather beaten brows. Now it's peppered with hotels and bars, with these iron giants as a contrasting and glamorous backdrop. There's the sound of banging, sparks flying everywhere, reflecting the Icelanders 'can-do' attitude when it comes to big engineering! I stopped and started, a photo here and there, but a pacy not stop trot back to my hotel. A good 8 miles and a tasty breakfast. To work now. A couple of days here to see our engineers work their own magic, and hopefully another run tomorrow.
