My worry over a river crossing made this loop trail a whole lot more difficult (we went about a mile and a half, turned around, then worked the trail counter-clockwise to the falls where another river crossing then sent us back). But man was it still beautiful. Really nothing like Iceland. A bit of the Scottish Highlands thrown in with Wyoming and then a good cappuccino before heading back. The sun does not always shine here, but when it does ain’t no where else I would rather be.
The wind and the loud party by the front of the campground have died down but our tent is so brightly lit that I probably won’t be getting any sleep soon. Day four in Iceland but day one in our tent. The plan is to camp at least enough nights to justify logging all our equipment on the plane.
Weather in Iceland is the triangulation of three elements; temperature, sun and wind. For our first full day it was high sun, medium temperature and low wind. That is an amazing day in Iceland. You don’t get many days like that here. If most days were like that there would be a million plus people living on the island.
Today was not that bad weather wise (although the wind has just started to pick up and the tent walls keep folding into my head). And it felt good to have one last meal at IKEA before hitting the road for places likely wetter and colder than the city. We can use a good fire (they don’t do that in Europe) but it still feels good now and then to sleep on the ground.
Day three in Iceland and we spend it looking at Penises. The world famous Iceland Phallological Museum may not be for everyone. But if you have any interest at all in how the male appendage varies across the animal kingdom then I highly recommend you take the first flight to Reykjavik.
It began as a gift. Someone gave the founder of this museum a bull’s dried up penis (which is often used in the countryside as a type of whip). Instead of being embarrassed he used it as a pointer in class (the man was a teacher). Well this of course led to more penis-themed gifts and, well a few decades later, a pretty cool museum in Rejkavik.
Besides penises, we also made time for the Icelandic Punk Museum which was housed in a former public toilet stall. I honestly had no idea that Bjork was once punk. It was a pretty nifty but claustrophobic experience with the docent an impatient English punkster with no patience for tourist chit-chat. It was also nice and warm down in the former public toilets which on this windy day was a nice respite.
At the Geothermal Park in Hveragerdi we boiled an egg (free steam/expensive egg) and met a cool family from Sweden. We talked for at least an hour. Their English was maybe a tad better than myself. Likeable beyond belief they sold us on the Penis Museum. So if you are reading this, thank you.
After making new friends we celebrated by climbing uphill to a luke-warm hot springs. They had an open wall changing area which meant you got to choose which tourist group you wish to expose yourself to (so sorry then to that nice couple from Germany). After the hike we celebrated with a delicious slice of carrot cake and a cappuccino apiece (this is Europe after all).
Late last night we left hot and humid Chicago for a surprisingly sunny Iceland. However remarkable the flight was (and really all flights are remarkable in their own way) the airport in Keflavik was so badly overcrowded that it took us three hours before we were able to drive away in our rental car. Corey and I then dropped Henna off at the University of Iceland then power napped at our Airbnb in Hafnarfjordur. No shortage of vowels in Iceland.
Almost as numerous in Iceland are the street cats which Henna spent some of today chasing. I know this from a couple of pictures and a short video that she shared. Both Henna and Corey hoped to stay up until at least eight. Not sure about Henna but it is now a little past 7:30 and Corey is sound asleep.
The week before our trip was mostly spent preparing for yesterday and today. But Friday we were able to catch one of our favorite bands at The Salt Shed. It was a perfect summer night in a season so far choked by smoke. Holding fast to that memory in hopes of staying up just a bit longer tonight.
It was mostly cold and wet for the six nights we camped in the Tetons. Twice overnight temps were in the mid 30s. Then the sun came out and we enjoyed blue skies for a little before heading home.
I worried that this, our fiftieth year circling the sun, would be the year we would finally choose mattress over sleeping pad. And believe me, there were plenty of times Corey and I looked around with a bit of scorn at our empire of dirt. But there were other times, like when facing our fierce furnace of a fire then looking up at a sky speckled with stars that we felt the same thrill as when we were in our twenties discovering this whole world of freedom for the first time. It was still Corey, me and Henna (with a wine glass and a longing look at the RV parked next to us). There was no place I would rather be.
Good thing we like to camp because we are headed with our gear to Iceland later this week. Henna to take classes through a language program offered by the University of Iceland at Reykjavik and Corey and I to explore the West Fjords and also Paris. Afterwards we will circle Iceland together via the Ring Road. But for now it is all about getting a haircut, doing some laundry and more packing.
So post COVID, post-Trump presidency, post- Trump indictment and, most importantly for us, post Henna’s graduation from HS and then her first year completed at college, we head back west for a small trip before our bigger trip.
First part of our mini-trip involved us camping at Ledges State Park (lovely park- cool canyon that you drive through with lots of small stream crossings that will make you nervous) then Niobrara State Park to Fort Robinson State Park to the KOA in Duboise, WY where I sit finishing my breakfast as we speak.
Honestly not sure what to expect. Would the Hunan Rights sticker on our car cause us trouble? Would riots break out in rural Nebraska once the dumb orange guy was indicted (and I don’t want to get too preachy here but really, he treated our national secrets with as much care as my dad treats the sports page)? The maintenance guy at Fort Robinson wore a Trump hat when he came to our room to drop a cot. And we saw a few Trump signs along the way. Less though than you would expect. Maybe the oddest sign of our times was in Fort Robinson where the Post Playhouse (coolest summer stock theater out there) posted a notice regarding the content matter of their plays. Seems that the Nebraska State Game and Parks Commission insisted that they now place a rating for each of their musicals. This of course is nonsense. Plays do not get ratings. But they played along and asked their directors to assign an appropriate rating.
The musical we saw was pretty edgy. It had attempted fratricide, unwanted sexual advances and an innocent baker executed by the state. Despite all that the audience was its usual mixture of northwest Nebraskans and tourists (the latter of whom were mostly older, fit and looking like they just got off a horse which for many of them they had just done).
But mostly everything felt the same as before. People were still friendly and inquisitive. Surprised to hear we were from Chicago but polite enough not to pass judgement.
in celebration of the ten year anniversary of our epic “40 Hikes Because We Are Turning 40” we bring to you yet another history in the making expedition…….”Hennacornoelidays 50 Nifty Naps.”
That was forty.
And this is 50.
So this summer we head off to some of favorite spots (Grand Tetons, Iceland and Paris) in order to highlight the best places to take a snooze. Sure, you can walk your way up to the Basilica in Montmartre. But wouldn’t you rather just kick back for an afternoon nap on the banks of the Seine? OK, this is still very much a work in progress. But one thing is for sure. We are back to bring you yet another installment of Hennacornoelidays – Summer Edition.
The first trip we blogged about began with a wedding. Henna was the flower girl. Smart phones weren’t really a thing yet and everything was written up on a netbook. More than once we asked someone if they had WiFi then had to explain to them what WiFi was. Not only had Henna not yet graduated high school, she had not even started Kindergarten.
In a few weeks Henna will be starting a new adventure in St. Paul, Minneapolis. Cannot begin to say how proud Corey and I are of Henna. We are also very happy with her choice of Macalester College (lots of famous alumni to boast about but none cooler than the samurai of the Walking Dead, Danai Gurira). We are not as excited though about our return drive home from the Twin Cities. Plan on packing a lot of Kleenex.
This past summer Euro fling won’t be our last road trip together. And I certainly plan on continuing to write about our journeys. It might though be under a different handle. Either way, it has been our incredible pleasure letting others into our travel world. To all our friends out there, both virtual and in the flesh, safe travels.
We spent the final few days of our trip in Dublin. Beautiful city filled with beautiful people. Many a time someone approached us thinking we were lost. And once on the DART an older gentleman gestured for us to join him for a bit of a conversation. And no matter how thick our brogue, no one made fun of our accent. Cannot think of a better place to end our trip. We ain’t home yet. Still got one more travel day to go. But the next train ride will likely be on the Blue line.
Our last few days in the U.K. featured quite a bit of “old fashioned weather” meaning there was lots of rain, gloom and a subtle chill that slowly worked it’s way to the bone. I got “old fashioned weather” by the way from this great booklet given to us in Blaenea Ffestinog (“Culture Amidst Industry”). Other great Welsh sayings from that book include “face like a month of fives” (a long face) and “my name is scratched with a rusty nail.”
At Betws-Y-Coed (a beautiful little town a few stops north of where we stayed) tourists picnicked and swam in rivers seemingly oblivious to the near constant rain. They also enjoyed spending time with their dogs. There were in fact so many well mannered and regal looking dogs out and about that Corey wondered if maybe there was a dog show in town. There wasn’t. The British just really love their dogs.
Today was our last day in the U.K. Good timing on our part as there are several big transit strikes scheduled toward the end of this week. We will greatly miss our time on this island. The locals, whether they be from London or Edinburgh or the Highlands or Liverpool or Wales have all been top notch. Have also had a cracker of a time and would say even more lovely things but am running out of British sayings. Cheerio!
Hennacornoeli Days 