We weren't lied to. Well... almost. 🌬️
During the night, the wind picked up violently, accompanied by rain. Suffice it to say that my dreams of returning to the former American base at Straumnesfjall vanished: the rain is still okay, but the wind makes everything dangerous and exhausting. I remember Patagonia: the wind almost doubled the walking times and transformed every aerial passage into a combat.
A little sad, yes. But mostly grateful: we were safe during the orange alert reported in the region.
Taking advantage of a lull in the weather, we packed up our tent and set it ashore to try to catch the 10:15 boat Hrólvur had told us about. Too slow: it left without us. Never mind, there will be another one. Maybe. After talking to a hiker with a "Swiss look," a boat finally arrives at 3:30 p.m.
Gabrielle takes the opportunity to paint at Hrólvur's, with a breathtaking view from the window, while I go back to hang around the whaling station, hoping to see the seals again.
At exactly 3:30 p.m., like a promise kept, the Borea Adventures boat appears. The sea is rough, the wind is violent, and the waves are to match. Fortunately, the journey is short: about an hour. In the cabin, the phones start to vibrate and ring again... a brutal return to civilization.
Back in Ísafjörður, we drop our bags in a guesthouse for two nights: put away our gear, plan what's next, and most importantly... finally get some quiet sleep. In the evening, we head to a lively Scottish pub: quizzes, laughter, discussions—and the surprise of running into a Borea guide we'd already seen several times in the reserve.
The rooftop tent will have to wait: seeing the gusts even in the sheltered bay, the choice of the guesthouse seems obvious. Tomorrow, a quiet day in this city full of history, which I had crossed quickly in 2008 (for a spare tire, true!) and in 2016 (for a reason that still escapes me).
#Inkavik #16August2025 #Ísafjörður #Hornstrandir #BoreaAdventures #WildIceland #IcelandTravel #SlowTravel #CarnetDeVoyage
