Roger:
Friday 12 June

A late relaxing start to the day. The Charlotte St hotel where we are staying has a great breakfast in its well decorated restaurant. It was a good chance to catch up on a few things before heading off to the Tower. As with most people from out of London we found the tube (train) system very efficient.

Arriving at the Tower of London we joined a tour with one of the 35 Beefeaters. This ex-army Warrant Officer was quite a hard case and very good at telling the many stories about the tower.  Pointing out Tower Hill where most of the executions took place he explained how after the head had been chopped off it was stuck on a pike, carted through the streets and placed by the river to deter wannabe bad buggers. The headless bodies were buried in the chapel. One guy did get to keep his head as it was recovered and sewn back on. Someone had realised after the event that they didn’t have a painting of him.

The tour continued through the grounds finishing in the chapel. The tower was built by William the Conqueror in 1078 as his residence. It was mainly used as a prison from the 1100s on. After the tour we watched the changing of the guards then went for a look through the tower. I was last here in 1984 when, from memory, there were racks and racks of various weapons and armour throughout the tower. Now it is more of a museum with lots of arty type displays and exhibits. I think I preferred the old set up. Obviously the tourist dollar rules.

Next was the crown jewels. A long queue lead us through passageways with displays and sometimes movies on the walls. Eventually passing through a couple of very substantial safe doors weighing 2 tons each we entered a chamber of  wealth. The collection is amazing – from huge gold plates to emerald studded swords and crowns. A conveyor takes you past the main stuff. No photos allowed. A stroll around the walls of the outer fort walls constructed later concluded our tour. I highly recommend a tower visit for those that haven’t been.

Later that evening we were sitting outside the hotel enjoying a drink when along came Dave – a well-to-do chap from Manchester, in town visiting his actor son. Dave was somewhat upset that this son had come to see him wearing cheap, non-branded sunglasses. So upset in fact that he had given him his Raybans!!

Sylvia:
Saturday 12 June

 Today was another travel day. Another delicious breakfast at our Charlotte St Hotel and we were off to catch the Eurostar to Belgium. Despite the requirement to check in 45 minutes early it was a quick and painless process and we were soon underway – the countryside, first of the UK, then the chunnel, France and finally Belgium whipping by at a mere 320 kmph. We arrived in Brussels just after 2pm, only 2 hours after leaving London.

Our first taste of the Belgian psyche came when we went to pick up our rental car to be told the office closed at 2pm. When I explained that I had been clear about our time of arrival and the fact I was coming on the train when I booked, the woman seemed nonplussed – “Lots of people say they are coming on the train when they are not”! Nonetheless she begrudgingly checked us in, eventually warming up and even gracing us with a smile before we left.

We were planning to go and see Kirstie in a cycle race at about 4:30pm and thought we’d have just enough time to drive to Bruges, check into the hotel and drop our bags off and still make it to the race. Things were not to be quite so simple – there were roadworks in the street next to the hotel and we could not access. Bruges has lots of very narrow, and often one-way, streets and we ended up spending at least 45 minutes driving around trying to find the hotel, including at one stage finding ourselves in a dead-end street having to reverse out past a large Mercedes van and a number of parked bicycles with loads of pedestrians and cyclists giving us dirty looks. We eventually arrived at the hotel and were told in no uncertain terms – “we emailed you to let you know about the roadworks and how to get to the hotel” – oops, my bad!

By this stage we were clearly late for Kirstie’s race so dropped the bags and headed back out to drive to Besele-Waas, unfortunately encountering severe delays due to roadworks. We arrived at about 5:30pm just in time to see Kirstie race past at the front of the third peloton before her whole group got dropped from the race. No matter, Roger enjoyed a couple of Belgian beers while we waited for Kirstie to cool down and have a shower and then we all headed back to Bruges for the night.

Bruges is a beautiful city with a long history and some gorgeous buildings dating back to the 13^th century. We had a typically Belgian dinner at the square and enjoyed catching up on all Kirstie’s news.

Roger:
Sunday 14 June

We wandered down to the rather picturesque square in Bruges. Some artist has stuck a big mirror sculpture in the middle which stuffs it up a little. Youngest daughter Kirstie and her friend Tamara who had driven over from Holland were there to meet us. Kirstie, now a NZ Track Cyclist, is riding for a local road cycling team for a few weeks during the off season. The breakfast at one of the many cafes in the square was huge. Tamara had brought a book along she had had done with all the photos of her and her boyfriend Tom’s recent trip to NZ in it. We dropped Kirstie off at her place in Aalst as she had to train and study for an exam for her Masters in Sports Psychology.

We drove to Ypres to visit the Flanders Museum – In Flanders Fields. It took us a bit of looking around to find it. We had not realised it was in a large ancient church-type building. I hadn’t realised that the whole town here had been wiped out during World War I. What looked like a large Gothic church turned out to be the museum – originally built in around 1300, completely destroyed during the war then rebuilt completely after the war as an act of defiance to the Germans. We climbed the 230 odd steps to the tower where there is a breathtaking view over the city and surrounding farm land. This gives one a true appreciation of the extent of devastation this whole area suffered. The town has been rebuilt in the same style of houses and buildings that existed before the war maintaining the quaintness of this Belgian area.

 The museum gave us some appreciation of the hardships suffered by not only the soldiers but also the civilians during the three odd years the battles stagnated over this land. There are many screens here where a character comes forward and tells their story then fades into the darkness as another appears. Most of these stories are from letters written by solders nurses and doctors from both sides. Weapons and uniforms from both sides are on display.

From there we drove to the Passchendaele Memorial Museum. This is situated on the historic and stunning grounds of the chateau of Zonnebeke. Adjacent to the museum is a small fishing lake. Entering what looked like a small building we were treated to a maze of passageways and exhibits. Gaining an appreciation for the different armies and regiments that fought here and the courage and bravery of men. There is an excellent representation of weapons from the smallest pistols and knives to large artillery guns and shells. All sorts of other kit and tools are also well laid out. Sections for each country display badges, uniforms, and campaign and gallantry medals awarded during the campaign.

Heading down some steep steps we find ourselves in a representation of the underground bunkers where officers and men, at times, lived to stay protected from the constant shelling. Basic operating theatres, cooks, blacksmiths bunk rooms commander’s quarters and much more is all represented here. Eventually this led us out into the trenches – a great representation of how each army built their trenches. As we moved through some hundred meters of different styles of trenches and materials used we got a small appreciation of how men fought, died or survived.

Missing is the mud, rats, cold, constant shelling, sniper fire, going over the top, watching mates fall injured and dead alongside you, and much suffering the stupid decisions made by senior British officers and generals. We can only respect the sacrifice that so many people made and still do so we can maintain our freedom. Lest We Forget.

Close by is Tyne Cot Cemetery. This was the German front line for some time. It was captured by the Australians in October 1917 and used as an aid station. 340 soldiers who died of their wounds were initially buried there. Between 1919 and 1921 it was extended to a full cemetery. Of the nearly 12,000 buried there only 3,800 are known by name. We wandered the rows of grave stones, all well maintained with flowers growing in front of them. We spotted many head stones with the fern on them representing NZ soldiers. Most had no names. There are over 500 New Zealanders buried here. On the back wall there are some 35,000 names of solders who perished and their bodies have never been identified.  New Zealand personnel of which there are hundreds have their own alcove.

 When I think about the devastation that prevailed on these people fighting for king and country, initially largely with inexperienced officers and newly trained men, I cringe every time politicians reduce our defence spending. Lest we forget.

Having run out of day we headed back to Bruges in time to catch the last horse carriage ride from the square around this old and beautiful city. Many buildings date back to the 1200s. Gentle curves in streets would indicate it was originally built from the river front. Some 12km of canals were added, 4 of which are still in use as a tourist attraction. The horse clip clopped over the cobble stones at a fast trot. People waved and took photos. I endeavoured to do a royal wave back. We stopped while the horse was rested and refuelled. The lady driver gave us a very scripted talk about various buildings but was reluctant to be drawn into conversation. Of note the council building was built in the 1300s and could be easily mistaken for a church with its gothic look.

Sylvia:
Monday 15 June

It seems I have lucked out and landed all the travel days for this blog. Makes for quick, easy writing. We had a straight-forward drive to the airport in Brussels this morning which meant plenty of time at the airport before our flight to Istanbul. A good chance to catch up on blogs, photo-editing etc.

The flight to Istanbul passed without event and we picked up our rental car. We encountered a bit of a delay while we got the GPS sorted so it could be read in English and then heavy traffic on the way into the city. In the end, it took us longer to get from the plane to the hotel (about 44kms) than it did to fly to Istanbul from Brussels – over 3 hours in fact. So it was with relief that we got checked in and wandered to a nearby café for a quick bite to eat. Our hotel is located right in the heart of old Istanbul near the Grand Bazaar and other major attractions. Should make for a good day of sight-seeing tomorrow.

Sylvia:
Tuesday 9 June            

It was beautifully sunny when we woke up this morning and it seemed the wind had died down a bit – at least it did until we decided to wander across the road to look at the pseudo craters a bit more closely. Still definitely windy! The pseudo craters are formed when hot lava meets a lake or pond and there were several perfectly formed ones just over the road from the hotel.

We headed off, stopping briefly at Godafoss, a large horseshoe shaped waterfall. We have seen so many waterfalls on this trip with snowmelt water cascading down cliffs everywhere, sometimes in thin trickles and others in mini-torrents. Godafoss was one of the few we have seen where the water was not crystal clear.

We carried on along Route 1, taking a wee detour on Route 83 to visit Laufas, a well-preserved 19^th century farm that has been developed as a museum. I loved exploring the turf houses complete with numerous period belongings. I was particularly taken with the beds which reminded me of the seven dwarf’s beds from Snowhite – particularly as they were in one of the upstairs rooms.

    View from window in the farmhouse.

We had a great chat with a young woman at the café next door who gave me an excellent lesson in the Icelandic language. No wonder I have found it complicated – not only are their 32 letters but even she says the rules on how things are pronounced are not consistent. And to make it even more challenging they have “bendy nouns” – a place or thing has a different name if you are there or if you are going there or leaving there. But at least I can now say Pingvellar (the name of the old Viking parliament place we visited on day 1) properly – and it is nothing like what it looks like – pronounced “thing-vet-lick”.

We carried on through Akureyri, where we stopped briefly at the Aviation museum, and then around Trollaskagi or the Troll Peninsular. This is another stunning peninsular with a number of long tunnels – we went through a 3km single lane tunnel, then a 7km two way, followed nearly immediately by a 4km two way and then later by another slightly shorter single lane one. The single lane ones had plenty of passing bays but still took a lot of focus.

We stopped in Dalvik, a tiny fishing town for some delicious Icelandic fish soup, which always seems to be served with an endless supply of fresh, homemade bread and butter.

We arrived at our hotel in Saudarkrokur fairly early. The hotel itself was in an old 18^th century building but our room was in the slightly newer annex next door. The bed was made up beautifully with the towels folded as swans on the end. We decided to head up route 748 to see if we could arrange a trip to Drangey Island for some puffin watching but no luck. Instead we settled for a quick soak in the natural Grettislaug hot pools – pleasantly warm but a bit slimy for my taste.

We had dinner in a small restaurant back in Saudarkrokur, Olafshus, where we tried the Icelandic Country Platter – a mix of foal steak, beef tenderloin and lamb. Despite my misgivings the foal steak was delicious!

Roger:
Wednesday 10 June

As we head west out of Saudarkrokur on Route 744 Sylvia has a different appreciation of the foals grazing on the roadside. Last night we had had a superb meal at Olafshus restaurant which included a very tasty foal steak.

We stopped at Blonduos for a coffee where we met a Utah couple who were touring on a BMW motorbike they had hired.

Continuing south we turned east on to route 50 then 518 to the Hraunfossar Falls. These are not specular but interesting as the water gushes out the side of the volcanic rock into the river forming a spring some 75m long. There is definitely no water shortage in this part of the world.

As we head up the valley we pass numerous farms with their large stock barns. Horses are more prominent than sheep in this area. Like most parts of this country farms seem to be carved out of swampy land with deep ditches running at the sides, ends and sometimes through the middle of the paddocks. Often ditches have been freshly cleaned out and the soil spread over the surrounding land. Ditch diggers have to be the rich guys around here. There are around 4.5 million sheep and 80,000 horses in this land. That’s one horse for every four people.

We head further east onto route 518, a shingle road heading up to the Surtshelli volcanic caves or tunnels stretching over 2kms with periodic openings. You’re supposed to be able to walk most of the way through them. With sharp jagged rock falls inside and icy snow some distance inside them we only did a few hundred meters underground. Sylvia demonstrated her rock climbing skills climbing a 3 m rock face to exit through the first opening. I had to follow.

Our plan was to head south on 550 but a sign told us it was closed. The many shingle roads here are really well maintained and easy to drive. Just now many are being graded I presume in preparation for the summer tourists. We headed west to the coast following it south. Around Hvalfjorour we passed a number of disused but well maintained fuel storage tanks. This area, it turned out, was a large allied naval refuelling base during WWII. There are also remnants of military buildings and gun emplacements around the fjord.

Arriving in Reykjavik we headed to the waterfront for a meal. We tried the tasting dish which included Minke whale. Very tasty it is. For all you “save the whale” folk, minke are a well-managed fishery in and around Iceland and Norway. Even the naturalists on the National Geographic Explorer seemed to agree with their harvesting.

In summary Iceland is a rugged land of intriguing beauty. One can appreciate the effort and hardship people must endure to live here. Even the basic things you see around the country homes such as heavily insulated water pipes and sewerage lines are just a small illustration as to how harsh the winters must be here.

Sylvia:
Thursday 11 June

Ever since we arrived in the Arctic I have been on the look-out for puffins and although we saw a few up near Svalbard they were very distant so this morning we had organised a one-hour puffin watching trip around an island in the Reykjavik harbour. There was only one other guest on board the small boat and we departed right on time at 9:30am. Within 15 minutes we were circling the island with many puffins in view, some sitting on the water, others flying and several on land standing in front of their burrows. They used to be hunted here but have been protected for the last 10+ years and seemed pretty comfortable with the boat. Apparently they are still hunted in the north of Iceland. We also saw black guillemots, eider ducks, arctic terns and northern fulmars before heading back to shore bang on 10:30.

We had a quick wander around the harbour – interestingly several of the older houses here are clad in corrugated iron – and stopped at the viking monument along the shore.

Before flying out to London we did a short circuit of the Reykanes Peninsular to the southwest of Reykjavik. We did a drive-by of the Blue Lagoon, one of Iceland’s most well know tourist spots, but at 60 euro per person for a hot soak I thought it was more than a little ridiculous, despite the beautiful blue water contrasting with the lava landscape. We also passed a couple of large geothermal areas and wandered briefly along the continental divide between the American and the European continental shelves.

After an uneventful flight to London we took the metro to arrive at our Charlotte Street Hotel. We were on the Piccadilly line to Cockfosters, which was announced at each of the 17 stops between the airport and our hotel, much to the amusement of the American woman in the carriage opposite us.

That is the end of the Arctic and Iceland leg of our journey. Several people commented when we were in Iceland and they found out we were from NZ, why have you come here – it is the same back home. From my perspective there are similarities yes – geothermal activity, sheep, lots of coastline etc but also significant differences and I am very glad to have made the trip. Now on to the beginning of the next chapter in our travels….

Sylvia:
Sunday 7 June

 We woke to a glorious sunny day and set off from Hofn heading up the Northeast coast to Egilsstadir. (The Iceland language is incredibly tricky with lots of funny vowels and letters that sound like something else. For example Hofn is pronounced Hopn, Pingvellar is prounounced Thingvellar – all very confusing).

The guidebook, which has a tendency to rather over-use superlatives, described this area as the most stable with the same beautiful fjords, waterfalls, mountains etc only in even more majestic proportions… The scenery certainly is impressive, even if it doesn’t quite live up to the guidebook descriptions.

We took a brief detour to Stokksnes with some great views over a very calm sea towards the glacier and mountains. Unfortunately the road to the end now requires payment to the owners who have set up a viking café. We decided to continue on instead. Alongside the road, steep shingle banks (something we became very familiar with over the course of the day) lead up towards craggy peaks that looked like they could easily slide down the slopes on top of the scree.

We left behind the whooping swans and greylag geese of the lagoons in favour of the eider ducks and oyster catchers of the fjords. The plains gave way to steep mountains, often topped in pyramid or cone shaped peaks and all striped from the layers of basalt. We also saw a lot more sheep, a lot fewer Icelandic horses and even a few reindeer.

We arrived at the small fishing village of Djupivogur and stopped for traditional Icelandic fish soup and delicious carrot cake at a lovely café in an 18^th century building by the harbour. As we were driving out we stopped to photograph a series of sculptured eggs atop posts beside the harbour – sculpted by a local artist to represent all the birds of the local area.

We then wound our way up and down a number of small fjords passing some quaint fishing towns and one rather odorous one with a large factory on the wharf. We stopped at Reydarfjordur to visit a War Memorabilia museum. There were a number of Nissan huts and old WWII vehicles as well as some good dioramas depicting scenes from the war when the allies used the town as a base. There were a couple of very interesting women taking money for tickets etc – almost like something out of the movie “Deliverance”. They were quite harmless though and resumed their card playing as we wandered around the exhibits.

Early evening we arrived in Egilsstadir and had some fun trying to find our hotel. The GPS kept directing us to a very dilapidated looking building and I was getting a little concerned but when we finally gave up and went to check the building was most of the way through restoration and had in fact only opened 2 days earlier. The room was small but clean but the restaurant was not yet operating so we headed into town for dinner at a small café with some great “healthy” pizza.

Roger has attracted a number of sideways glances over the last few days from people wrapped up in gloves, hats, ski-jackets and hiking boots who don’t seem to be able to believe their eyes when they see this bloke wandering around in shorts and jandals. He does deign to put on his jacket every now and then but regularly comments on how warm it is when we pass temperature signs stating 7-degrees. I am definitely looking forward to warmer climes when we get to the rest of Europe but am not sure he will enjoy them as much.

Roger:
Monday 8 June

An average breakfast at the newly opened but not quite finished Valaskjalf hotel in Egilsstadir, set us on an interesting journey into the high country. Heading northwest on highway number one we viewed some pretty barren country with hints in places of the Central Plateau in NZ. Large areas of just rock, volcanic shingle, stunted shrubs and the odd excuse for a tree.

Turning west onto route 901 we headed through the high country farms. At 400 odd metres above sea level there is still lots of snow on the hills above us. Remembering that Iceland, although just below the Arctic Circle, is considered part of the Arctic as the average temperature in July doesn’t get above ten degrees. As with coastal lands, every now and then there are green grass paddocks mostly with deep ditches running around and through them. It seems that anywhere that grows anything more than a few weeds here is swampy ground. Like the rest of the farms there is no sign of irrigation, the green must come from good hardy grasses and fertiliser. The wintering stock sheds up here are huge.

The guide book’s wine-bottle description of this land goes “on a clear day the lack of vegetation on this route is compensated for by the fascinating vistas, featuring remote lakes, rocky passes and rushing streams. But, when the rain shadows and mist descends, obscuring the view, the atmosphere becomes charged with eerie presence, creating the brooding mood and scenery that ghost stories are made of!”

Funny thing is after finding route 907 to the south closed we arrived at Morudalur, one of the earliest settled farms around here, now with modern turf roofed buildings a 1949 church and a cafe. The girl in the café, working there for the summer, had just completed her degree in creative writing – maybe she will be writing guide books one day.

Getting back onto route 1 we headed northwest to route 864. Five kms up the road and it is barricaded closed. Next was 862 to see Europe’s largest volume waterfall. Hyped up in the guide book this was somewhat disappointing. We had seen for more impressive falls through the high country.

Next was route 863 to the Krafla Crater. It was by now blowing a gale to the point we had trouble standing on the top of the crater rim. As we walked back to the car some guy asked me how the swim was in the crater lake. I explained the lake was iced over and he looked surprised. For some reason he thought my long shorts were swimming togs!!

We checked out the Myvatn Nature Baths. Picturesque as they were with great views, the wind was so strong we passed up the swim.

Arriving at Sel Hotel on the south side of Lake Myvatn our room had a great view over the lake and a number of small perfectly shaped craters. The wind is so strong it’s creating white caps on the lake and rocking camper vans in the car park. The locals just accept the weather as “this is Iceland”.

After leaving Tromso we headed ever northward, first to Bear Island and then on to Spitzburgen, the main island in Svalbard. We eventually made it above 80 degrees longitude and explored many of the fjords and waterways around Svalbard enjoying some great hikes and fantastic wildlife viewing.

To read more click on the links below (Note – due to technical difficulties I have had to upload four separate documents…

Arctic Svalbard

Arctic Svalbard_2

Arctic Svalbard_3

Arctic Svalbard_4

We continued northward stopping in a variety of fjords and at several of Norway’s northern islands – the last few days before we head far North to Arctic Svalbard. Now we are in 24 hours of daylight.

To read more click on the link below:

Norway 2015_4

FYI – we realise that picture quality in these postings is not great but we are limited to satellite internet coverage. We will post photos into the photo gallery once we are back with reasonable coverage.

We continued up the coast of Norway, stopping in fjords and at small offshore islands to explore the picturesque scenery, eventually arriving at the Arctic Circle…

To read more click on the link below

Norway 2015_3

After spending the morning in Bergen, we boarded the Notional Geographic Explorer and started of on our journey north via the fjords of Norway to Arctic Svalbard.

To read more about our first few days on board click the link below:

Norway 2015_2

The first few days of our trip were spent exploring Oslo and then heading to Bergen. Due to join the National Geographic Explorer on 20 May to explore the Norwegian Fjords and Arctic Svalbard these few days were more about overcoming jetlag and adjusting to the time zone while exploring some of the beauty of these two Norwegian cities.

To read more click the link below:

Norway 2015