If I had to do things over again, I would’ve just got my groceries and left Egilsstradir on the same day. There’s really nothing to the town, but it was nice to hang out and read in the gas station (with ice cream). 

The morning bus to Seydisfjordur arrived 20 minutes late, but I wasn’t in a hurry. The driver was the first person I’ve met in Iceland who didn’t accept credit cards. Cash only. Luckily, I had exact change. People here will charge pretty much anything to a credit card, even if it’s just a few cents. Nobody here uses cash except for the German tourists. 

There’s a weekly ferry between Denmark and Iceland and I happened to be in Seydisfjordur right before it left. It stops along the way in the Faroe Islands, which I had never heard of until I started planning this trip. I looked into spending a week there, but after a few minutes’ research the cost and logistics didn’t look worth it. 

There wasn’t a whole lot to Seydisfjordur the town except for the above guy who used his assistance dog to race along the road in his wheelchair. 

Sometimes it’s possible to parse out what Icelandic words mean. Like the above sálma bók (psalm book). 

After battling a passive aggressive French man so I could do laundry, I wandered around the fjord and got ready for my three day hike through the eastfjords. 

The beginning was pretty foggy with low visibility until suddenly, at the apex of a long climb, the clouds parted. It was an amazing view to behold, especially with the rare Icelandic sun making an appearance. 

I met almost nobody along the hike except for Icelandic farmers when the trail followed dirt roads. The solitude was nice, but only doing 15 to 18 miles a day gave me a little too much free time. The views weren’t bad, though. 

The huts allow camping, but that would’ve involved walking 2 km out of my way. It didn’t seem to make sense to do that and pay whatever fee when I can camp for free almost anywhere. 

The second day on trail was pretty similar, also with spectacular views. I saw another pair of hikers, the first since I left Seydisfjordur. 

I asked the warden at the last hut how much it would cost to camp and use the hut’s facilities. Apparently camping with bathroom use alone is $15, which is more than most village campgrounds with showers, kitchens, and wifi cost. So I walked another 20 minutes and set up my tent away from everyone else next to the trail. 

My last morning on trail I waited until 10:30am for the rain to stop, but didn’t get any luck. The tall grass and mud everywhere would’ve soaked my feet anyways, so I just bundled up in my rain gear and trudged the last few hours to town. Rather than take the scenic coastal route, which wouldn’t be too scenic during a low visibility rainstorm, I mapped a route through the mountains to Borgarfjordur Eystri. When I arrived some Nordic looking woman pointed and laughed at me from her heated dry car, but (except for my soaked shoes) my bright green, yellow, and orange rain outfit kept me warm and dry. 
The campground in the town, population 90, looked totally trashed. There was trash everywhere, and hordes of Icelanders (they were all talking to the locals in a non-English language, so I’m assuming they’re Icelanders) in their 20s taking down their tents at 2pm. The police were on the scene doing what I think were breath tests for alcohol, but I couldn’t be sure. The seagulls were having a heyday with all the debris, and I managed to snag a campsite in the chaos. Not that it really mattered, since there were only 10 people in the campground Sunday night. The workers all looked pretty shell shocked from Saturday night.