Come for the library.
Stay for the view.
I didn’t know what Isafjordur had to offer until I
stepped out of the airport shuttle and into its arresting mountain view. Until
that point, my main source of excitement had been an obscure building in the
center of town, that is unlikely to fall at the top of anyone’s bucket list.
But the second I stepped out of the car and was
able to tilt my gaze upward to at least a 45 degree angle, I realized why
Isafjordur holds so much mystique and allure. This is a small town on one of
Iceland many remote fjords in the west of the country. There are around 2,000
people there, two bakeries, six restaurants, one hostel, and of course, one
library.
On my three short days in Isafjordur, I saw three
towns and three mountains. These were, of course, the same town and the same
mountain, but one was disguised in the veil of a blizzard, the other was a
sunny frozen peak, and the last one saw its white coat washed away overnight by
a warm wind, revealing the green mossy peaks and brick-lined streets beneath
it.
Being at the foothills of such a terrifyingly large
mountain was a source of breathless wonder for me. I just couldn’t stop take my
eyes away from the mountain. Now its ghost lives in my memory forever. When I
gaze out upon any horizon I think, “the mountain would be right there….”
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