Foreign rain: The Snaefellnes Peninsula

After returning from Iceland I've read a few books about the country and I believe it's in Sarah Moss's excellent Names for the Sea where the author remembers one of their local friends mentioning "foreign rain" during a downpour, meaning heavy, pounding rain as opposed to drizzle of various intensity which apparently is Iceland's garden variety rain.

I couldn't tell if that's true but if it is we are having rather foreign weather the whole day.

The weather report has forecast a dry spell at 10 a. m. which - most surprisingly - really happens and allows us to pack up the tent. It's one of the few times we are favourably impressed by the Icelandic weather report.

 We stop by a desolate black beach at low tide, taking in the otherworldly, dark landscape around us, dotted by only the hardiest of plants. The rest of the day is rain. We follow the road westwards around the Snaefellsnes peninsula, the mountains hidden behind a wall of low hanging clouds, stepping out of the car only a few times. 

At Arnarstapi we take a walk along the shoreline, taking in the basalt formations and the choppy sea. Fortunately my coat is as waterproof as promised and keeps me dry from head to knees while the hiking boots have me covered up to well over the ankles so there's only a small part of my legs getting really wet.

At the parking lot we buy some fish and chips off a guy in a food truck who doesn't like the weather much either. It's supposed to be better north of the Snaefellsjokull so that's where we're headed. I don't remember much of the drive except green fields, broken by the cooler green and white of moss covering dark lava, the wet band of the road ahead leading on through the fog and the rain. 

I also remember overtaking a cyclist in neon yellow rain gear with a camera attached to his helmet. After the trip I try to find him and the footage of his travels on google but nothing comes up.

In the afternoon we come to Stykkisholmur where there is sunshine - but only on the screen of our weather app. In reality heavy raindrops are pounding the windshield and so we continue on eastwards, keeping our eyes peeled for a place to camp. We find it after the Alftafjördur close to a river.

As H. can't find the lighter it's bread and jam for dinner - again!