A trip to the Westfjords of Iceland can feel like a trip to the end of the world. Especially when you have been confined to the concrete and urban surroundings of Reykjavik for over a week, there is no bigger contrast imaginable than the empty and out-worldly landscape there. And even more so when the last time you have driven a car on gravel roads was ten years ago, and you have to skid around 50-metre cliffs on the one side and crumbling mountain flanks on the other.
But yours truly proved himself worthy of driving the rallye Paris-Dakar, and did not steer the car into any abyss. On our way up motorway 1, overland-route 60 and gravel road XX we passed loads of awe-inspiring mountain passes, little coastal inlets, abandoned cars and (living and dead) sheep. We finished the first day of our trip in the huge fjord of Djúpavík, right next to the disused fish factory that was one of the concert venues for Sigur Ros’ Heima-shows.
