I want to go home!

I've had two disappointing days driving for too long in sunshine which should be used for other things. I drove all round a peninsula supposed to be home to several Gyr Falcons and saw nothing but the mockingly similar shapes of fulmars circling the high cliffs which, all round Vatnsnes  slope steeply to a few fields with the occasional scruffy farm, and then the sea.  It seems Icelandic farmers, like many British ones have different ideas about what constitutes natural beauty. 

I stayed last night at a pretty town called Hvamstangi, and when I left at around 7am the wind had dropped and I felt hopeful. It didn't last.

I'm sick of being so cold!  Today began at 3 degrees and reached the a scorching 4 at mid day. Always and everywhere is this horrible north wind. I'm worried about the van too - I'm smelling exhaust fumes, and I'm not sure the gears are going to last. Fifths is beyond retrieval and it's getting difficult to get into 6th. New gearbox? Another thousand pound bill? I've made a silk purse out of a sows ear and now the sow is complaining.

I'm in the Westfjords looking for -  and of course not finding - eagles - white tailed sea eagles that is. There is a grandly named "White Tailed Sea Eagle Centre" just down the road, so I called in to ask about places I could see them. Three ladies of more than a certain age were singing into microphones in a sort of café cum gift shop. I asked about eagles and another lady of the same ilk started to tell me something in what I suppose was English but didn't sound like it. I explained about the deafness and the noise (er, music) and we stood outside.

"You see here - all around." She gestured to the glorious view of scattered islands of black lava and the backdrop of mountains.

"Are you allowed to tell me where the nest sites are?" She took me indoors and pointed to a more detailed map, indicating just the areas the guide book had described. I asked about the singing - clearly a rehearsal for something, but I couldn't understand a word of what she replied.

"Good - have fun!" I said, hoping to cover all bases. I could imagine the guide book rep coming here and treasuring this "authentic" information. The area the lady had waved her hand over was about the size of West Wales, but divided into fingers with the road looping round each one. I went to find somewhere I could park up and scan the area with the telescope. The views are breath-taking, but so is the wind. How do Icelanders breathe? And, like most of the rural areas of north Iceland it is heaving with birds - redshanks everywhere, snipe at every step, godwits, ringed plovers, arctic terns, whimbrels, redwings, all of them in great abundance and all it seems nesting nearby. It's wonderful and I can still get great pleasure from watching them and catching their quirks on camera.

Feeling low, I drove along endless dirt tracks to a place I guessed would be good to sit and watch for any passing eagles. I had the small reward of seeing a redshank chick running around, but it ran off before I could get a picture. Earlier I had seen a merlin briefly, but again not for long enough - oh and a Red Throated Diver, but too far away. Still I got some nice pictures of the striking Black Guillemot.

19:00 I'm now in a grotty camp site at Rejkholar, with disgusting toilets and no shower but a rather grand swimming pool. With any luck I'll be away before they arrive asking for money. Now I'm going to get all the cold weather gear on and go for a walk. The sun is out and likely to stay out until I go to bed and it looks like good walking country: 

20:30 Still bitterly cold but I'm happy again. Within a short walk - but still long enough to freeze my hands - I was surrounded by calling redshank, godwits, golden plover and whimbrel all looking spectacular in the low sun with the golden grass in front and the blue-black mountains behind them. At the end of a marked path is an unassuming looking pond. I approached slowly hoping to see a red-throated diver, and there indeed was one, and quite close, and then there was another one, and to cap it all several chicks, and then there were two more, again with chicks, and more and YET MORE. When they crane their necks to look at me they look rather sinister and serpentine, but relaxed they are simply beautiful. 

I think there were at least 6 families of these iconic birds of the north all in one small pond AND there were horned grebe and phalaropes and long tailed ducks. For a while I forgot my painful hands, snapping away until I could bear it no longer and turned back.

Ahead of me there was some smoke rising from the ground. Not smoke though, steam - a thermal spring, the water too hot to put my hand in so I picked up a rock, whitened with evaporated minerals, and warmed my hands with it. Bliss.