Another day without too many photos, just a lot of work in the studio.
I did audio recordings of two of my favorite stories (so far) up in the recording studio, went for a short hike, came back and wrote the first draft of the 14th story in 14 days. (Woo-hoo!)
I’m thinking I should probably devote a day or two down the line to revising some of the stories I already have, but I’m not sure when that will happen.
The story I wrote today was about Death… which had me thinking a lot about… well… death and the people I know who’ve died in the past few years.
In particular, I’ve been thinking a lot about my friend Daniel Lent, who passed away about a month ago. He and his wife Kristie lived in Alaska and he was always wonderful, smart, funny, and kind. I met him through my interest in the Iditarod (where he and Kristie were huge supporters and volunteers). He was a vibrant part of the #MusherTwitter community as well as the #UglyDogs community (supporters of BraverMountain mushing, Blair Braverman and Quince Mountain). Last week, I taped an open letter to Dan as a tribute. I posted it today (and am reposting it here).
Meanwhile, on the way back up to the house, I spotted a house with Christmas lights up.
As you can see, the blue, green, and red lights move.
Steph, who has the bedroom in the front of the house came into the kitchen and said, “There’s a rainbow.”
So I went to the front door and saw this rainbow that seemed to come directly out of the top of the red house across the big field from where the house where I’m staying.
It was bright and clear and I knew I wanted a photo of it. But in the 45 seconds it took me to grab my phone and take a photo, it started to fade.
In another two minutes, it was gone.
It feels like there might be some kind of (not-so-subtle) lesson there.
As they used to say in college textbooks, this is left as an exercise for the reader.
The sun was pretty bright, so I spent most of the day in the downstairs studio because the sun shines directly into the upstairs room where I’ve been working.
Finished another story. So that’s 13 in 13 days.
Thinking about how to best present them. There’s still work to be done on all of them, but I do want to share them as works-in-progress.
The very, very long hike that went up probably about 3,000 feet or so.
I started at the fjord and went up behind the blue church and up into the fields towards the snow.
Every few hundred feet of elevation gain, I thought I’d just go up a little more and then turn around. But every time I kept seeing something that looked like it would be good just a few hundred yards ahead. Eventually, when I came to the waterfall with the rock that looked like a skull, I turned around.
Going down was both easier and harder. It was easier to get my bearings and see better where I wanted to go, but the downhill got hairy in a few places.
And there were several streams that I had to cross and recross a bunch of times in order to make sure I’d wind up where I wanted to be and not miles and miles down the road.
Here’s a few videos from the hike:
https://youtu.be/HOlMpP9CUkY
v https://youtu.be/HOlMpP9CUkY
And a few stills from the long hike, while we’re at it:
After I got back, I took a hot shower, had some lunch, went down to the Fish Factory and wrote a story about climbing up into the mountains.
A pretty good day.
And then we saw the northern lights overnight for the first time.
(Hester, one of the other artists here, took the bright green shots. I took the other two that are fainter.)
I forced my ass out of bed a little after 7 when it was still dark.
I got ready and was out the door around 7:15 when the first signs of dawn were just peaking over the horizon in the east.
Like most sights in Iceland, what I saw was breathtaking. The crescent moon hung low in the sky as the pink light appeared and intensified. I remember an English class in high school where we read Odysseus (I think) and one of the phrases used was “rosy-fingered dawn.” I’ve seen sunrises and dawn before, but never truly appreciated that phrase until today.
And then, while the sun was slowly trying to get over the horizon, I stood by the edge of the water and I watched the waves. This was unbelievably peaceful.
After I got back to the house and drank warm tea, I did laundry, flew the Sitka P. Coldfoot Memorial Drone to get some more footage, and went down to the Fish Factory.
Inspired by the Crescent Moon, I wrote a story called “Moon.”
I woke up at 7:00 and thought about getting up early to watch dawn break from the east edge of town. The metaphor of light coming in from Europe and washing over this lovely place while on its way to America and points west appealed to me.
But being warm under the cover appealed to me, too.
And before I knew it it was after 8 and light out. Marty (the plush moose) was mocking me from the window.
I really want to watch the dawn, though. Maybe I’ll force myself to do that tomorrow.
I did go back to the east edge of town and take some panorama and ultra wide photos, trying to get a sense of the scope of the fjord. (I realize trying to get a sense of the fjord may be something that’s ultimately impossible, but I won’t let that stop me from trying.)
Here are a few of the panos from this morning:
Then I came up to the Fish Factory and the sun had come out. It was actually too sunny for a while in the room I’ve been working in that has the big windows and the great view.
So I went downstairs to the main studio room, worked for a few hours, then headed back up. With the sun safely behind the mountains on the other side of the fjord, I was able to finish the tenth story I’ve written here in ten days.
From the upstairs window looking out on the fjord, I spotted a fishing boat coming in from a day’s work. Hope they had as good a day as I did.
I set a very ambitious schedule for myself, but so far I seem to be meeting all my internal deadlines.
Also, doesn’t the Fish Factory look cool at night?
9 people. One van. One hour to Egilstaddir where one woman was dropping a few sculptures at a gallery and someone else was heading to the airport to meet her boyfriend.
I took a walk in the morning, did some more work, and then we spent basically four hours going shopping and coming back.
Fun fact: the sky cleared up as soon as we got through the tunnel and onto the other side of the mountains. Every other part of Iceland has had clear skies and amazing Aurora displays except the part of the Eastfjords where I am. And of course, as soon as we came out of the tunnel on the way back the weather was rainy and cloudy again.
Hoping the weather clears up over the weekend so we can get some good Aurora action.
In the evening, I wrote another story. That’s nine in nine days. (Nine first drafts, anyway.)
It seems like riding in a van for hours shouldn’t be exhausting, but it kind of is. Oh well.
Today was a day of catching up on a little work I had to do from L.A.
So after a brief hike (no photos for some reason), I settled in upstairs and got to work.
Then, I wrote another new story (that’s eight in eight days).
I did make the mistake of telling one of my housemates about this boat. The local fishermen will often give locals a fish, so she got a fish and cooked it last night.
The entire place smelled like fish.
I may have burned a candle to clear out the smell.
Did I mention that I have an almost cellular aversion to fish? Because I do.
And yet, here I am at the Fish Factory. Go figure.
I took a nice long walk in the morning, this time going west.
After the misadventure with the Sitka P. Coldfoot Memorial Drone yesterday, I’m waiting fora very low wind day before I try again. The good news is we’re supposed to have some clear skies this weekend. So I’m hopeful for some good drone weather and some Northern Lights.
Since I’ve been here, we’ve had pretty much 100% cloud cover and rain/sleet/snow the entire time.
Anyway, I took a walk north because even though it was cloudy and windy, there was a brief period of only light drizzle.
Then it was back to the Fish Factory, where I wrote another original story (that’s seven in seven days for those of you keeping track at home).
It was sleeting slightly (which is much better than rain in my book) and seemed calm, so I thought it was perfect weather to take the Sitka P. Coldfoot Memorial Drone up.
A few words on Sitka P. Coldfoot. He was the soul kitten. My wife Amy and I had disagreed about what kind of pet to get. I was always a dog person and she hated dogs and was a cat person. So for many years, we didn’t get a pet. Until finally, we compromised — and she got her way.
In exchange for me agreeing to get a cat, I got to choose which cat to get. We’d gone to the local shelter and were interested in a black cat, but we were told to come back two days later. When we did, we learned the black cat had behavioral problems. So instead, we looked at a tiny, adorable tuxedo cat. He was so small he could fit in the palm of my hand. And he was so goofy that he was doing somersaults in the little cage. But when I held him, he looked up at me, sighed contentedly, and fell asleep.
To say I fell in love with him in that moment is a huge understatement. But look at that face! How could you not fall in love with him?
He was incredibly smart and incredibly sweet (and eventually grew into his ears). He used to do the most amazing, acrobatic jumps playing with his “bird” toy (a wand with a feather at the end). People didn’t believe how high he’d jump, so we made this video:
He was devoted to us and the absolute sweetest and best boy you could imagine.
We lost him far too early, but we had a great ten and a half years with him. It’s not an exaggeration to say he inspired me and Amy and that we both still miss him every day.
The lock screen on my computer is still this photo of him and it makes me happy every time the computer boots up to see him:
So when I decided to come to Iceland and bring a drone, we decided to name it the Sitka P. Coldfoot Memorial Drone so that I could be reminded of him and introduce others to him.
And today, I thought, it was perfect drone-flying weather. When I left the house there was almost no wind. I hiked out to the edge of town, past the campground and the Evergreens to this patch of land where there was not much around except for tussocks, wild grass, and some streams coming down from the mountain.
As I got farther away from town, the wind picked up. It really seemed like it was too windy to fly the Sitka P. Coldfoot Memorial Drone. But I’d come all that way and I thought maybe I could get a quick flight in and film the waterfall.
I’d taken the following video from my phone, so I figured it would look even more fantastic to get video of it from the Sitka P. Coldfoot Memorial Drone:
I’ll let me tell you most of the story… along with some footage.
Here’s the part I didn’t mention above. I had the video of the flight on my phone. And watching it, I realized I was flying in a field where plants grew 1-2 feet tall and where there were almost no distinguishing landmarks. So the footage didn’t give me much of a clue as to where the crash occurred. I walked up and down, getting wetter and wetter, not making any progress.
I was pretty much ready to give up.
I was thinking about how stupid it felt to buy a drone, bring it to Iceland, and then lose it.
And I was thinking about how when the drone went up three or four feet, it was seriously being knocked around by the wind.
I was thinking about how majestic the drone looked in the air and how stupid I felt when I realized I couldn’t control it or get it to come back to where I was. (Even the automatic “return home” feature wasn’t working.)
So, wandering around in that field, I remembered that this was no ordinary drone. This was the Sitka P. Coldfoot Memorial Drone.
And even though I felt silly doing this, I started calling Sitka’s name. I remembered why I’d wanted to name the drone after Sitka. And I called for him.
I’m not going to tell you I heard meowing or heard voices telling me where to go. But I did get a very clear sense of where I should go. I followed that sense, carefully scanning the area.
And in about two minutes, I found the little drone (which, like Sitka when we first met him) basically fits into the palm of my hand.
I brought the drone back to the house. Carefully cleaned and dried it, and put it away.
I don’t pretend to know what happens to anyone (felines or humans) after they die. But something outside of me led me to where the drone was. And I’m so happy we named it after Sitka.
Also, I’ve learned my lesson about flying the drone when there’s too much wind. And maybe I’ll just stick to the big field by the house, where I can definitely see it no matter where it might land.
After that morning, the afternoon was relatively uneventful. I got a lot of writing done at the Fish Factory and am on track to complete on original story every day for the 30 days that I’m here.
Also, if you’re interested in supporting me and like what you see… I have a Patreon where I’m also posting a lot of content (including photos taken every morning at 9:30 a.m. from the same two windows of the house where I’m staying). It’s free to follow and cheap to support (with various tiers that have their own rewards). Check it out here. Drafts of some of the pieces I’m working on here will be up on Patreon soon.
Long, long hike, all the way out past the edge of town.
There’s a campground there and a little meadow surrounded by Evergreens. And not just tiny Evergreens, but big ones more than 20 feet tall.
Some gorgeous views on the way back as well. It occurs to me that all my hikes in the morning have been in this direction. I’ll have to do something about that in the next few days.
On the way back, a rock gave me an important lesson (no, not the “Eat Skyr” rock, although that’s arguably important as well.
I’m trying, rock. I’m trying.
At the Fish Factory, I wrote another story (fifth in five days) while staring out the window at the fjord. At one point a boat came by, which was pretty unexpected. I waved to the little boat, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t see me.
There is still a bit of a fish industry here and we were told that one of the fishermen would give you a fish if you were on the docks when they came in. So one of my housemates got a fish and they gutted and cooked it last night. The entire house smelled of fish (which is a bit torturous for me), but they seemed to enjoy it.
While they were fishing it up, I was up at the Fish Factory (and yes, I get it, it’s ironic that someone who hates fish as much as I do would choose to do a residency at a place called the Fish Factory) in the kitchen/lounge area, where there is no fish, but great WiFi. I was doing my Sunday night writers workshop, which I’ve been running every week (with very few exceptions) for the past three and a half years. As great as it is to be here (and it’s really, really great), it was wonderful to see these great writers and wonderful people that I have spent most of the last 175 Sundays with.
My Aurora Apps were pinging off the charts at me to tell me there was a wonderful display of the Northern Lights just above us. The only problem was it was pouring and we had 100% cloud cover so we couldn’t see anything up there. Hoping for a break in the weather in the next few days… but the weather seems to change so much and so quickly that you really never know.
Meanwhile, I’m keeping my nose to the grindstone and working.
