The Wild West

The Westfjords is an entirely unique place, unlike the most of Iceland. Far from any metropolis, the Westfjords developed at a significantly slower rate than its surrounding country, and therefore still relied on the land for any sort of survival. Many roads in the Westfjords weren't paved until 2009, and even so a majority of the roads are still dirt. The town of Ísafjörður is about 20 minutes away from where we're staying (a hostel called Holt), and to get into the town you have to drive down a looong tunnel through one of the mountains. If you're leaving the town, and trying to get back to Holt, you may be surprised when you realize the tunnel is one-way. Those leaving Ísafjörður must yield to the oncoming traffic, and pull over in a brake-down lane if a car is coming. Going into Ísafjörður: 15 minutes. Leaving Ísafjörður: 30 minutes.

The Westfjords are also in a rather unique predicament. After the technological boom hit Iceland, the population suddenly had a new expectation for their standard of living and many people abandoned their farms and moved to Reykjavik. Maintaining any sort of income in the Westfjords became harder and harder as the already meager population steadily declined. Towns that once had 200-300 people are now down to 15-30 people. Entire farmhouses are abandoned with their possessions still inside the building. People just packed up and left, and the Westfjords are quickly becoming a deserted landscape.

An upside of this bizarre exodus is that the land remains (more or less) unspoiled. You can go miles without seeing a sign of human life. After class one day our group went to a farm near Holt that got its energy from a micro-hydropower plant on their property. This farmer (maybe around 30 years old?) built his hydro-plant on his own with found materials and leftover pieces of hardware. Really, an amazing example of resourcefulness. Also the farm was gorgeous (surprising, right?).






This cow's tuft of hair reminds me of Conan O'Brien.


During a 10pm sunset some of us went on a little walk around our hostel.


This is the church and farmhouse down the road from us.


Some nosy neighbors kept an eye on us as we passed their turf.


Our hostel is the one with the radio tower.


There was a small beach down the road but it was heavily inhabited by birds...and the birds weren't too happy with us stomping around their nesting grounds...


...so they would circle over our heads and dive-bomb us if we got too close. Lots of kids have tried going for a run past our hostel and have had to come back early because of the aerial attacks.


We also went to a small power plant near our university. I couldn't hear the manager very well, so I don't really know any details...but compared to the other plants we've seen this was by far the least modern. Where other plants had white walls and glass, this plant had shelves of mechanical parts and exciting flashy buttons.








Most of our days at the university are spent staring at a computer and researching for our independent projects...so coffee breaks are a must (and frankly we've gotten too used to coffee breaks every 45 minutes at this point).

A friendly game of cribbage to pass the time.


Next to the break room is a balcony, which leads downstairs to a badminton/volleyball court! Why not.


Ísafjörður doesn't recycle...for some bizarre reason that we don't fully understand...But they do separate their waste into Burnable (which includes plastic, oddly enough) and Non-Burnable. We got to visit the town incinerator and see what they were all about.


We spent maybe 30 minutes just standing and watching the claw lift bundles of trash towards their fiery doom (Toy Story 3 flashbacks aplenty).




This heartbreaker was hanging in the control room of the incinerator. I guess he founded the original landfill in Ísafjörður...I wish I had gotten a better picture of him, but needless to say he's pretty ridiculous looking.


Yay trash-burning!