Author name: Sayling@@Away

We reached the fjord town of Siglufjordur in early morning, after another rock and roll night. This town was once the hub of the global herring industry, and after Zodiacking ashore, we walked through the town to a house where the ‘herring girls’ once lived. A cautionary tale of overfishing Siflufjordur is the herring capital of the world. The herring industry began in the 1800’s but really took off in the early part of the 20th century and became an important factor in Iceland’s climb from poverty of affluence. The international herring fishery in Icelandic waters took in between 10 000 and 25 000 tons per year during the first decades of the 20th century, and following the government’s assertion of jurisdiction over herring fishing out to 12 miles from shore in 1958, the catches exceeded half a million tons. Despite being warned of the perils of overfishing, the fishing continued and catches fell precipitously by the late 1960’s, when the only remnant of herring stock could be found off Norway. The stock slowly recovered in the Norway waters and herring returned to Icelandic waters in the 1990s. Fishing quotas are now highly regulated and the processing of the herring is automated. Who were the herring girls? They were the daughters of farmers who migrated to Siglufjordur in the thousands to process and salt the cod from May to October, before the herring disappeared. The task was arduous but well paying, and when thousands of foreign fisherman came ashore, this largely young and unattached workforce found opportunities for dancing, music and entertaining – there were eighteen pubs in the 1920s. Herring Girl House The herring girls lived anywhere from 16 to 30 in a room with only one or two bathrooms. Here is a house where the girls lived. Their work in processing and salting the herring was arduous, standing at the boxes and packing the barrels for 14-20 hours a day, with little time to eat, since they were paid by the barrel and had to keep up with the catches brought in. Men working around the herring line brought empty barrels and took full ones away; the women controlled the pace. The work was wet, hard, and often cold. Hands immersed all day in fish and salt suffered from cuts, blisters, and infections. Some women got so tired they collapsed. Here are some pictures showing the processing of the herring by a herring girl, who first must put on yellow rubber pants.  Pink salt is used on the herring and they are stacking in alternating rows in the barrels. The fish heads are collected in a basket at the end of the sluice – I have no idea what was done with them, but they probably are used in pet food now (plus they’d make a good fish broth). The upside of all this hard work was that many young people from poor backgrounds used their savings to invest elsewhere in housing, education, and new businesses: in one generation, they stepped into the middle class. The Herring Museum is the brightly colored building, which used to be a processing factory After some dancing to some herring girls’ waltzes played on an accordion (accordions are a favorite instrument in Iceland), we walked over to the Herring Era Museum where we could see how a functional, early herring factory was set up. I also got to try smoked and pickled herring (delicious) served with aqua vit, the Iceland alcohol of choice. We retuned to the ship for lunch and pulled away from Siglufjordur and headed for Grimsey Iceland on rather rough seas. This is a small island straddling the Arctic Circle, located about 25 miles off the mainland. Its principle attraction are its rookeries, housing a variety of bird species: puffins, arctic terns, gulls, and guillemots. There was no real harbor, so we zodiaked in. Here I am standing on the Arctic Circle (hubs had wandered off to take pictures). Then we bused to the lighthouse where we could see sheep and puffins.                                Lighthouse, note the rookery in the stone cliff below. It was easy to get close up and personal with puffins. Sixty percent of the world’s puffins nest in Iceland, so not surprisingly there were hundreds of them to see. I did a blog post on puffins, so check that out (P= Puffin). Since my phone didn’t have very good resolution, here is a photo from my blog on these endearing birds. The children of Iceland rescue newly fledged puffins who are drawn by the bright lights of the fjord towns. It was a long day, lots of walking on my broken foot – but a version of Hell awaited us the next day! 0 0

The following day we embarked on the Ocean Endeavor. Built in 1982, it had been a jack of all trades – transport, cargo, ferry – before being reconfigured as a passenger ship in the early 2000s. It had a reception area amidships with a library/bar and three lounges, one on each of three levels, aft. Fore was the dining room, one level up from where we were berthed. We were in a cabin at the very front of the ship – two beds, a little sitting area and a small bath room. Quite comfortable, although as we soon discovered, in heavy seas it was rough going. Modern stabilizers were not installed! One of our few days moored at a pier Our steward was Miguel, who left wonderful towel creations for us each day. And we were awoken to the public address system each morning with: “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Good morning.” At whatever time it was decided we all needed to get up for the day’s activities. It was 7 AM most of the time, but 5:30 or 6 AM occasionally. I am not a happy camper at that time, especially since it was 2 AM at home. The food was really good – with a seemingly endless selection for lunch and dinner – and I had to restrain myself not to gain weight. Our first stop on our circumnavigation was the next day – in a town called Stykkisholmur on the Snaesfellness Peninsula – don’t even TRY to pronounce these names. I had to use a picture from their Chamber of Commerce – don’t get fooled by the sun! It was chilly and wet! Stykkisholmur has well preserved and beautiful old houses in the town center and a beautifully modern church. I can’t remember if this was one of our ‘dry ’landings, where we walked off the ship onto a pier, but chances are it was not. Most of the time, our ship anchored somewhere off in the harbor, and we were called in groups down to the mudroom to put on our life jackets, then go down some more stairs of an exit where we boarded (with lots of help, depending on the roughness of the water, a Zodiac to take us to the town pier. Smooth water or rough, you needed wet weather gear. I’m on the far side of the Zodiac in the left picture. From the pier we took a bus. Our guide, Einar Einarson, provided us with lots of facts and figures which I promptly forgot as soon as we got on our bus because I would drift off. This happened for the first couple of days. The bus took us on a lovely route to the Snaefellsjokull glacier, which sits atop a 700,000 year old dormant volcano and where we were to take a Snowcat up to 4,600 feet. Wouldn’t you know it – it was raining and foggy, and by the time we got to the mountain base, the Snowcat drivers had closed up and gone home. But never mind, we had a wonderful day of seeing lots of beautiful landscapes, and frankly, it was so cold and wet, I’m not sure I would have managed 4,600 feet. This is from the Snowcat brochure since we didn’t get to see this! By the following day we had travelled north and slightly east on the west coast of Iceland and were moored in Isafjodur. This is the largest town on the Westfjords peninsula, with about 2,600 people. It is a very ancient site with a trading post dating from the 1500s, and the town’s main industries are  tourism and salt fish production. The harbor, as the name implies is a fjord, as were most of the places. It was still not sunny that day, so I got this picture from the Isafjordur guide. The main sightseeing object that day was the Dynjandi waterfall, the highest and definitely the most thunderous waterfall in the region. One of our tour mates climbed to the top of the fall, where she picked up a rock to being home. We were told the trolls didn’t like people taking any rocks. Trolls, you might ask? Well, there are ten primary Islandic sagas, written during the High Middle Ages by authors who identities are not known. The aspects of the landscape, the language, folk tales, and Norse mythology in these sagas were influential in shaping the legendary fantasy world of Middle Earth in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Ring Trilogy. Tolkien had an Icelandic nanny from the West Fjords who lived with the author and his family in the early 1930s in Oxford, England. It was through the nanny that the author became further acquainted with Icelandic folk tales and mythology and was able to practice Icelandic. And so Iceland has trolls and elves. Sure enough, she slipped, fell on her back, and slipped to the edge of the fall, where her feet hung over the edge. Luckily, she was largely unhurt, but she did put the rock back. The following day was a busy one, preceded by a night of rocking and rolling on heavy seas. In our cabin, we bounced up and down and side to side. I rolled myself into my duvet and then tucked it into the tight space between the wall and the mattress to keep from being rolled of my bed. Did I mention we took Meclizine every night? It’s a non-drowsy anti-motion sickness medicine that worked perfectly. So on to Siglufjordur and Grimsey Island. 0 0

About a year ago, some friends of ours told us they were going to sign up for a tour that would take them around Iceland on a boat. Iceland was on our bucket list, so we decided to go, too. Let me say at the outset that this was a challenge for me, in several respects, and I’m still recuperating from our adventure! We flew there on Iceland Air, landing at Keflavik, a town about an hour from the capital of Reykjavik, Keflavik was essentially created by Americans during WW II, as a military airfield serving for refueling and transit. The airport there is modern and automated. Iceland is a Nordic Island country (it was ruled by Denmark until WW II) in the North Atlantic with a population of around 350,000, two thirds of which lives in the capitol city. It is volcanically and geologically active and is the most sparsely populated European country. I was a dummy about Iceland, except that it was an island with volcanoes and unique horses, before we went there, so I’ll try to throw in some facts as I go along. We waited most of the day for the others in our small group of 16 before being bused to Reykjavik and our hotel. The ride was remarkable for two things: the surrounding flat lava field, covered in moss, that extended as far as we could see, and our bus drive falling asleep and nearly driving off the road into said lava field. We did admire the lovely Alaskan lupines growing virtually everywhere along the side of the road – they were introduced to Iceland and now are considered a pest since they spread like wildfire. They only bloom 2-3 week a year so we got to see them in their full glory. After a restless night – Iceland’s world famous hot dog stand was right outside our hotel window, and apparently Icelanders like to eat hotdogs with gusto at 3 AM in the morning – we went on our first excursion. This was a walk with our guide to see the Parliament Building and the lovely lake, then a bus tour to Perlan, a landmark built on a hill outside the capitol, where there have been hot water storage tanks for decades. A hemispherical structure was placed on the top in 1991 and there is a spectacular viewing platform around this egg. Inside there is an ice cave. With regard to the hot water storage, all of Reykyavik is heated geothermally with water, piped into the city, even in structures three stories high. The hot water out of the tap is HOT. The cold water is piped from underground springs and is the purest water I’ve ever had. We also visited Hallgrimskirkja, one of the city’s best known landmarks. It a Lutheran cathedral commissioned in 1939 and finished in 1986, and I found its soaring roof and interior simplicity awesome. All of Iceland’s churches are stark on the inside, reflective of their Lutheran heritage, although Iceland has a state religion encompassing all its churches. In front of the cathedral is a stature of Leif Erickson, the Viking explorer, and inside is a modern sculpture of Jesus. We also took a gander at Harpa, the capitol’s music hall and conference center, another architectural wonder. Construction started in 2007 but it wasn’t completed until 2009 because of the Icelandic financial crisis in 2008. The building features a distinctive colored glass facade inspired by the basalt landscape of Iceland, made of hexagonal panels created in Japan and installed by Japanese workers. Next to Harpa is an award winning sculpture on the waterfront — is a sculpture by Jon Gunnar Arnason and described as a dream boat, or an ode to the sun. The artist intended it to convey the promise of undiscovered territory, a dream of hope, progress and freedom. I loved it. Did I mentioned it rained, misted or was partially sunny our first six days in Iceland? Temperatures in the upper 40s to low 50s – normal for summer and not unusual for a country that crossed the Arctic circle. Winters tend to be pretty dark with sunrise is around 11 AM and sunset between 3 and 4 PM in December. In summer in Reykyavik, it will not get dark at night from May 21 until July 30, as the sun barely sets in summer. So no northern lights for us. With regard to Icelandic last names, each child takes as his or her last name the first name of their father plus the word son or dottir. So our guide’s name was Maria Manda Ivarsdottir. My last name would be Johnsdottir. The following day had us riding the so-called Golden Circle, a popular tourist route in southern Iceland, covering about 190 miles, looping from Reykyavik into the southern uplands of Iceland and back. Along the way we saw three special places. First, Thingvellir National Park, where we walked the rift between the North American and European tectonic plates – this rift is why Iceland is so volcanically active! Then we stopped at the spectacular Gullfoss waterfall, and finally visited and the geothermal area in Haukadular, where there are geothermal power plants, geysers and I had my first dip in a geothermal blue pool. We also stopped at Friðheimar, an vast indoor hydroponic tomato farm, where they grow many different types of tomatoes. The place is heated geothermally year-round and uses the predatory mirid bug Macrolophus pygmaeus to eat all the main pests that afflict tomato plants and imported bumble bees to pollinate. The best part of our stop were the Bloody Marys we imbibed, made with the tomatoes grown there – delicious and sweet! The following day we embarked our boat, the Ocean Endeavor. 0 0

I’ll be stepping away from my blog for a while, to take a summer break. Many thanks and gratitude to all my new followers. One request. I have a paucity of reviews of my book on Amazon. If you read my book, and liked it, could you please post a review? I would SO appreciate it! 0 0

I missed my high school reunion this past weekend, much to my chagrin. I just needed more time to let the broken bone in my foot heal, before I taxed it with travel. However, one classmate, Mary Boutin, brought some of my books to the reunion for my classmates. Some of them have appeared as characters in my books. These photos gave me a chuckle! 0 0

You know, as an author, that great reviews just make your world. Here is one that arrived today: Customer Review 5.0 out of 5 stars Action packed, page turner! By Emily Gmitter on June 12, 2018 Format: Kindle Edition | Verified Purchase Rhe Brewster loves to eat….and to sleuth. And she does both well and often in this well written murder mystery. The author is knowledgeable about the location of the story (a coastal town in Maine, where she grew up) and the medical field (impressive bio!) and her writing is infused with her expertise, giving the entire story authenticity. She weaves the mystery in a skilled way and you may find yourself thinking you know who the murderer is, just to change your mind a chapter or two later. Action packed, credible dialogue, real-life problems in Rhe’s relationship with her husband. A lot going on here but it all comes together seamlessly; a page turner! ***** Thank you, Emily! 0 0

Yes, c’est moi, the most handsome cat. Here I am admiring myself in the glass fireplace screen. Today I am rather irritated. Every day around eleven I ask my two legged, “Isn’t it time for my lunch?” She replies, “What did you say?” I repeat, louder, “It’s time for my lunch!” “Yes, yes, I’m getting there. Hold onto your pants.” I don’t have any pants and even it I did, how could I walk and hold onto them? Honestly, it seems I need to have a continuing dialog with her for at least 30 minutes before she breaks down and puts out my tuna. I even have a patented dance I perform for her to tell her how hungry I am, even when I know she can hear me. Anyway, I’ve finally gotten my tuna and am now cleaning my face. Did I tell you I have a new toy? It’s a sort of a crinkly tube that is fun to crawl through. It has a hole in the middle where I can stick my head out, but mostly I like to relax there. It also has these fascinating strings at one end that tempt me to pounce and chew them. I thought I would show you where I sleep while me two legged writes – in the corner of the loft where she sits. Please note how messy my sleeping spot is, with papers all over. She does not keep her space clean. I keep my spaces clean…well, sort of. My box is something I can’t do anything about and it’s true I leave hair everywhere, but other than that I am clean and neat. I’m feeling better now. She’s giving me something I like a lot! 0 0

Most people know I swim every day and there are lots of insects that keep me company. The pesky ones like dive-bombing flies and mosquitoes I gladly swat, but there are also different species of beetles, ants, some spiders (which are not insects), various other flies, most of which I scoop out and deposit on the pool deck to be washed away into the dirt. My favorite buddies, however, are the dragonflies. These magical creatures come in a wide variety of iridescent colors with gossamer wings. They alight for a fraction of a second on the pool surface to get water, then flit off. Occasionally they hover in front of my face, and one day a brilliant turquoise specimen landed on my visor and sat there for a while, to the delight of my daughter. Occasionally they get trapped in the water and end up upside down, fluttering helplessly. It is my honor to pick them up on my palm, flip them over and watch them fly away. Blue Dasher dragonfly Common Green Darner dragonfly Eastern Pond Hawk dragonfly, male Eastern Pond Hawk dragonfly, female Ebony Jewel Wing dragonfly Widow Skimmer dragonfly Here are some dragonfly facts from the Smithsonian: 1. Long before the dinosaurs walked the Earth, dragonflies took to the air. Griffenflies, the gigantic precursor of present day dragonflies, had a wing tip to wing tip span of 28 inches, and took flight in the Carboniferous period, 300 million years ago. Woman holding a life-size model of a Griffenfly, from Don Chure’s Land of the Dead 2. There are 5,000 + species of dragonflies. 3. In their larval stage, which can last up to two years, dragonflies are aquatic and eat just about anything—tadpoles, mosquitoes, fish, other insect larvae and even each other. 4. Dragonflies are expert fliers. They can fly straight up and down, hover like a helicopter and even mate mid-air. If they can’t fly, they’ll starve because they only eat prey they catch while flying. 5. Dragonflies catch their insect prey by grabbing it with their feet. 6. Nearly all of the dragonfly’s head is eye, so they have incredible vision that encompasses almost every angle except right behind them. 6. Dragonflies, which eat insects as adults, are a great control on the mosquito population. A single dragonfly can eat 30 to hundreds of mosquitoes per day. Next time you see a dragonfly, say hi for me! 0 0

As most of my followers know, I am a huge supporter of the military – it comes naturally to a military family! Did you know that 24 of our Presidents served in the Army, or that George Washington chose the colors of the current US Army dress uniforms? A lot of soldiers are in the air! Soldiers who jump from airplanes wear Airborne wings. Those who rappel from helicopters wear Air Assault wings. Those who fly into space wear Astronaut wings. I’ve been mesmerized by a recent recruiting ad from the Army, particularly this photo. It’s of a member of Special Forces on a parachute jump and it took my breath away. 0 0

Today I am over-the-top thrilled to have a guest post by Sally Cronin! As many of you know, she is the most generous blogger anywhere for writers, posting and reviewing our books and cheer leading sales. She is also a terrific writer herself, and when she asked what I might like as a guest post, I had to ask for an animal story. Her book about her dog Sam and her many animal tales have warmed my heart and brought tears and smiles. So here is a story about Charlie, the junkyard dog. Charlie the Junkyard Dog by Sally Cronin Charlie was a junkyard dog and had the scars to prove it. He was head of security of this fenced off mass of scrap metal, dotted with mounds of old tyres he called home, and he took his job very seriously. During the day, he was chained up next to the beat-up old trailer, where his human would shout loudly at other humans; sometimes throwing things at the thin metal walls. In bad weather Charlie would retreat into a rough scrap wood shelter; resting his bony body on a ragged old corn sack on the hard concrete floor as the water dripped in through the roof. His human would unshackle Charlie as night fell; throwing a few handfuls of dried dog food into a bowl, kicking it toward the dog. ‘Gotta keep him lean and mean’, he would laugh as he got into his truck to head down to the bar on Main Street.  The junkyard was now Charlie’s responsibility, and he would prowl in and out of the wrecks through the darkness; barking and growling at any real or imagined intruder. The feral cats kept their distance, building nests for themselves in the precarious metal heaps and hunting for rats and mice at night; keeping one eye open for the mangy dog. Many a lad had climbed the fence, looking for a spare part for their hot-rod, or to find some forgotten treasure in a glove compartment. All had gone back over the wire at speed, with one or two new rips in their jeans and sometimes even missing a sneaker.  Charlie would swagger back to his kennel, taking a drink from a puddle along the way, pleased that he had done his job as demanded of him. Rarely did the dog feel the kindness of a human hand, despite the men who worked in the yard throwing him the odd bit of sandwich, or even a left over piece of hamburger. None were keen to find out if he was as handy with his teeth as some of his victims had claimed after lucky escapes. The boss told them not to coddle the dog, and despite some of them pitying their half-starved workmate, they were too afraid of losing their jobs to push the matter. Then a thin, lanky lad called Jimmy turned up one day looking for a job. The boss thought he was too scrawny for the kind of hard labour that was needed, but he knew the boy would work for a lot less than he had to pay a grown man, and gave him a week to prove himself.  He had to give it to the boy; Jimmy did not mess about, arriving early and leaving long after the others had left for a beer. He pulled his weight and earned the respect of the other men who took him under their wings. Although Jimmy didn’t say much they sensed the boy didn’t have much to go home to. Over a mug of coffee after lunch, he finally shared that he had been living on the streets for some months but was now in a hostel. It sounded a bit grim but it was clean and he had a room, dinner and a change of clothes. With the money he was now earning he planned to save up and find a small place of his own. Like his workmates, Jimmy began keeping some of his lunch for Charlie. They warned him to throw the food and not to get too close in case the dog ripped his arm off. They were amazed when he calmly knelt down, holding out his hand with the piece of sandwich in his cupped palm. After a couple of days, hunger overcame his fear and Charlie edged closer and closer until he snatched the food, racing back to the other end of his chain. They warned Jimmy not to let the boss see him petting the dog, and the lad was careful to only do so when the man was out in his truck, or on the other side of the yard. He didn’t want to lose his job, but he also couldn’t bear to see this neglected dog and the way he was living. It brought home memories of his time on the streets, and he knew only too well how desperate it was. Through the summer months, Jimmy began to climb over the fence after the gates had been locked, rather than return to the stifling room in the hostel, until the evening cooled. Charlie by now accepted the boy and eagerly nuzzled his pockets to see if there were any treats for him. He would snuffle delightedly as he came upon a piece of cheese or sausage, dispensing a slobbery kiss in gratitude. The two of them would wander the yard enjoying the evening sunshine and then sit side by side watching the sun go down, Jimmy’s arm around his buddy’s neck. Both of them had filled out over the recent months of better food and the boy had also been to the vets and stocked up on medicine for parasites and fleas. Charlie’s improved condition was becoming a problem. The boss had noticed that Charlie was calmer and less aggressive and that he could no longer see his ribs. Somebody was feeding him and he decided to keep a closer eye on who was