It took 31 years for me to finally get my act together and visit Iceland-the country where my mother was born. Any adventure worth its weight involves a road trip, and this was no different. My mother, aunts, uncle and I piled into a borrowed SUV to deliver and install my Grandmother’s headstone in her hometown of Ísafjörður.
I think it was only fitting that my first time exploring the island of my heritage was spent way off the beaten path, on narrow winding, white knuckle roads, in the Westfjords. Luckily My Uncle Svenni here did the driving on the sketchiest of the roads, leaving the easier parts for me.
Answering nature’s call or searching for more coffee usually brought us to some pretty mind-blowing spots along the route. This hotel was prepping for the upcoming busy season, leaving the serene view all for us.
No Iceland photo collection is complete without a church set alone in a field dwarfed by mountains. Took some careful tiptoeing through a field full of sheep poo to get this shot.
I admit it. I played the tourist a little bit. Over coffee and cakes (translation: giant spread of snacks and sandwiches) I’d learn the family lore of Dinjandi Waterfall. Legend has it our distant relatives once owned this impressive faucet, and were going to sell to a hydropower company. No verification on that tale, but I’m going with it because it sounds epic.
Dinjandi is actually a series of 7 different falls, my favorite being Göngumannfoss. Named for the guys who wandered to find sheep who strayed from the flock. Pretty fitting for this rambling wandering man.
A common thread after every trip is a feeling that I didn’t shoot nearly enough film. This time was no different, but through the family road trip I had an experience celebrating and memorializing the life of my Grandmother that has me already planning my return.