Holy Saturday. I spent a fine afternoon riding about Westman Island, the weather being just right for it, barely a breeze. Now that’s highly unusual for an island in the North Atlantic. This place never ceases to amaze me, another instance when I wish to have a Thoreauvian gift of description. Still, that’s fine; what counts is that I enjoyed the day. Since I was out and about by myself, I could feel the place more than on other occasions. Wind is not unlike a person with you, busy by its presence, so the next-to-calm conditions of Friday were special. I walked around the larva flow of 1973, dark red and black rocks twisted this way and that. Walking on the stuff is tricky, both sharp and very grainy which makes for poor footing. At the head of that flow was the new volcano barely 2 kilometers away next to its twin, Heligfjall. If the larva kept on going, it would have sealed the harbor, but they sprayed ocean water onto it to redirect the flow. By the way, two mountains falling into the sea at the harbor have huge grottos in which boats can park. Westman was also the home of Keiko the killer whale.

When the sky and sea is expansive as on that afternoon, I could feel a connection between what lay beneath my feet and on the surface…one of those unique occasions of connectivity in a unique place. As for Westman itself, the island proper is called Heimay; Westman stands for a group of some 13 islands, the newest being Surtsey, formed at or around the ’73 blast. Its mountains (if you could call them that) are unique: giant globs of ice cream or even a piece of cake with very sharp and high cliffs. They’re just plunked down next to each other, some being connected by razor-shape ridges about 300 meters high. I.e., Heimay sure isn’t flat which gives it a special character. At the other end is where the 12-14 million puffins live, but they’re all out at sea. So between the downtown area (so to speak) and the puffins, the distance is approximately 6K, but the terrain is hilly. When you approach the summit of Storhöfði, another cake-like mountain at the other end, you get incredible views of more large cake-like islands scattered around. The serpentine road leading up there averages 16% gradient with sharp cliffs falling off to one side…not for the faint-hearted.

By reason of being an island, Westman is a small community, extremely wealthy for its size of just under 4,000. Everyone has a car (or two) and drives everywhere, even two houses away. Later in the day I prepared lemon meringue pies for about 9 people with the family I know. Today is rainy and windy (what else?) but will get out and about later. I plan to do some computer work by myself. Though circumstances precluded attendance at Triduum celebrations, I set aside ample time to recall the events signified. In many ways this religion-less commemoration was unforgettable. It makes you realize that despite the importance of such events, essentially they’re built upon memories set down in various ways of retention. First by mouth, then by scribe, book, recording, typewriter and finally computer. I wonder if the increasingly sophisticated methods of recording the past will effect the people doing this. Somehow I don’t think so, that is, in and by itself.

When I arrived on Westman, all flags were half-mast. Turns out it is the law to do so on Long Friday and must be kept this way through evening of Holy Saturday.

One quick note: I´ve been having trouble inserting entries from my home computer, reminiscent of the past, but fine on others. Therefore I may not post an entry until Monday but will have info between now and then.