Vík in the Mist

Sandy, Liz, John and I drove to the southern town of Vík this morning. As John explained, there are lots of víks in Iceland; Reykjavík, Keflavík, and others. A vík is a bay. Ok?

The Icelandic rain gods tried to discourage us, and continued to present our party with washed out vistas and washed out lenses. We were greeted thus in Vík, and so did what all hardy travelers do; we ate lunch. The Halldorskaffi turned out to be just the place for some nice sandwiches and soup. And a beer. For me. John was driving, and I felt for him.

After our plates were cleared, we walked out to a clearing sky. Clearing, Iceland style, that is. But whereas we couldn't discern a single feature of the coast when we entered town, now we could make out headlands and rocks through the mist. And a view in the other direction, that is, looking up the valley, revealed a lonely fog shrouded church on a hill.