in the countryside...

... along the southwest coast. Out in a powerful wind all day long, and mostly drizzling rain with a bit of sleet now and then. More of the landscape that is very similar to what we saw when headed into the capitol, Reykjavik. The goal today was to get to a little church 'way out on a peninsula where the wind blows unceasingly. Even though this is a completely made up number, I am convinced it was whipping the grasses in those pastures, along with few small shrubs that can survive constant force of the air, at about thirty miles per hour. At one point had to cross a bridge over whitecaps, and felt the full brunt of the pushing, punishing winds.

Lots of sheep out in the pastures, in the misting rain and persistent wind, grazing or resting in their soggy woolen coats. A few cattle as well as small ponies with manes and tails whipped sideways in the blow. Plenty of low flat fields used to grow grass, that has been baled into hay, wrapped in plastic to keep it dry, for feeding livestock in the winter months. Practically no other traffic on the roadway, but we passed several huge tractors pulling trailers, driven by farm workers, doing their daily business.

Looking out over the flat plains, near the ocean, there is the occasional mountain that literally seems to pop up out of the level earth. Pastures, smooth grassy fields, then boom! Mountain with steep sides, snow at the highest level that is often obscured by low blowing clouds. Very different from the low hills that give way to higher hills, then distant mountains rising level by level I have seen in the US. The mountains here just seem to shoot straight up, from wide grassy fields full of grazing sheep to vertical rock. And more waterfalls spilling cascading water over the edge, splashing down those steep inclines to gurgle and blurble of the rocks and find their way to the sea. With powerful winds blowing today, some of those cascades appeared to be blowing sideways instead of falling from the heights.

The church that was our destination was discovered on Atlas Obscura, a tiny wooden structure built in the mid 1800's, painted black, with white trim. Surrounded by a low stone wall that was covered in mosses and grasses, with a cemetery on the grounds, holding maybe two dozen departed Icelanders. I assume the wall was stacked to keep sheep out of the cemetery, as it appeared to be as old as the building. We have passed many tiny church buildings on our travels, not much bigger than what I would consider a 'chapel', designed to hold maybe thirty or so people. Likely built by prosperous landowners who would have itinerants perform services as they passed through when no one would travel a great distance for attending services on a Sunday.

We have seen, entered, passed by, stopped at, been lured into a number of shops selling hand-made woolen goods.Gorgeous knitted sweaters, cute little hats, beautifully crafted gloves, colorful scarves often with the name of the crafts-person in the label of the item. I am tempted over and over again, but then remember all the woolen sweaters I have given away, donated to thrift shops. And remind myself there are so few occasions in south GA that call for a warm, itchy, wool garment.

Stopped at a small town on the way back from the Black Church at a museum about earliest settlers. The narrative of the Northmen was taken from ancient manuscripts, telling of a family that came from Norway, who established farms, but continued to ply the seas and return to the continent. At times a little creepy, at times amusing, but certainly not suitable for small children with magicians, spell-casting, evil miscreants, malice and bloody murders. Folktales abound, stories of trolls, dragons, handed down from Norse mythology, repeated with each generation to keep little ones constantly fearful of what might be under the bed.