The Great Icelandic Ring Road Expedition: Day 3.
Listen, I could tell you about how I communed with sheep on the desolate east coast of Iceland today.
Or about how I went to a place where steam vented from the very furnaces of Hell.
But I’m not gonna tell you about that either.
Heck, I could even tell you about how I took yet another selfie in front of yet another Icelandic volcano.
But how yesterday would that be?
No, what I really want to tell you about is the coolest thing I’ve seen since our plane touched down on this remote island tucked away in a remote part of the northern hemisphere.
I wanna tell you about Stoovarfjoropur.
Let’s call it the anti-Ringling Ringling.
You know that Jimmy Buffet song about the “dying little town”?
Where the only thing left was a “fat barmaid, a cowboy and a dog”?
Yeah, well Stoovarfjoropur ain’t that.
At first glance it’s just another one of the little unassuming fishing villages tucked away in one of the finger-shaped, isolated fjords that define the east coast of Iceland,
Funny thing is, we might not even have stopped there but for road fatigue.
You know how, after viewing one natural wonder after another, your mind starts to wander and you just need a break?
So stop we did. And that’s when I noticed that something interesting was going on.
First you need to know that, once upon a time, Stoovarfjoropur was a prosperous town, mainly because it had a fish factory that employed a lot of people.
But what happened to so many towns – a factory closes, a railroad bypasses it, a local economy dries up – happened here too,
And people left because the jobs left. End of story.
Except not.
As I wandered around I began to detect signs of life in renewel.
There were colorful murals decorating the sides of derelict buildings.
And the old fish factory had been turned into an art gallery, of all things.
And the Number 1 tourist attraction in town was a rock collection, which turned out to be the life’s work – the passion really – of one woman.
We went into the town’s only cafe and met Kimi.
She is a Brit transplant who moved to Reykjavik several years ago.
She and her wife thought they needed a break from the big city, and so they decided to try country living for a spell.
That was more than four years ago.
Now she owns the cafe, and isn’t going anywhere.
There is a sense of energy in this little fishing village, she told me. Young people have migrated here, put down roots, and are trying to reinvent this small fishing village.
It’s not easy, given what they have to work with.
There’s one cafe. One guest house. One filling station. One rock museum.
And one art gallery.
Oh, and not to forget the local Pride chapter.
“We’re trying to make a go of it,” Kimi said.
The Fish Factory Creative Center is basically a magnet for young artists who are looking to make their mark.
Which is not to say that this fishing town forgotten its roots.
The town’s waterside jetty is a monument to generations of fishing trawlers that first brought life to this little village on this vast fjord.
Winters are hard here. And pretty soon the Ring Road tourist business is going to come to a screeching halt for months on end.
Can a grass roots revival based on the arts survive economic trends, the ruthless weather, the village’s remote location and the competition that offers tourists volcanoes, waterfalls, geysers, hot springs and the like?
I dunno. Kimi doesn’t know,
But, like Kimi, I’m pulling for Stoovarfjoropur to buck the odds.
So I just want to ask you, friends, neighbors and loyal readers.
If, by any chance’ you ever happen to be doing the Iceland Ring Road thing.
Then please…please…stop there.
Take a walk down to the water.
Look at the murals.
Check out Petra’s stones.
And, by all means, drop into the cafe and tell Kimi that ‘Ron said ‘Hi.”
Because where there’s art, there’s hope,
More later.
FreeGNV 