Iceland Day 3: Látrabjarg cliffs and Patreksfjörður

We spent two nights in Bíldudalur so that we could spend a day visiting the famed bird cliffs at Látrabjarg. Millions of birds nest there. The cliffs are 14km long and up to 440m high--the largest bird cliffs in Europe.

En route from Bíldudalur to Látrabjarg

From the Látrabjarg parking lot, looking back the way we came

In 2010, a German tourist plummeted from the cliffs to his death. According to news articles online, the Icelandic rescue service decided to improve warning signage in the parking area.

Wildflowers were abundant on the cliffs.

Birds were abundant too. We were hoping to see puffins, but learned later from some tourists from the Netherlands that the best time to see them is in the late afternoon and evening because (who knew?) puffins head out to fish during the day. It turned out the best way to find puffins was to look for pile-ups of photographers.

Thanks for the photo, mom!

Notice the white line at the cliff's edge. Stay behind it if you want to stand upright without plummeting; to take photos, lie on your belly to distribute your weight over more area.

Our one and only puffin sighting

On our way back to Bíldudalur, we stopped in Patreksfjörður to go swimming. Our guide book recommended sitting in the hot pots and swimming in the pool as "one of the most restorative and relaxing activities in the whole of the West Fjords region." We gave it eight thumbs up.

Chilling out

After I made fun of the God Copy Shop yesterday, the Copies were displeased and frowned upon our efforts to go for one last long mountain hike today. When we checked the weather forecast this morning, we abandoned all hope of hiking the wet, windy Belchen. We decided instead to aim for something closer and lower, and drove to the base of the Hoernleberg, near Waldkirch. As soon as we got out of the car, the sleet began.

With no sign that the weather would let up, we got back in the car and headed home the long way, over the Kandel, figuring at least we might encounter a little snow. From the top of the mountain, we gazed longingly across the Rhine valley at bright, sunny France. The dark roiling clouds above the Schwarzwald ended precisely over the international border. The Copies were obviously pleased with themselves and laughing heartily.

We don't remember whose idea it was, or how it popped into whomever's head, but at some point on this cold, wet, gray day, we realized we should go find out what the Romans thought was so great about this part of Germany. Late this afternoon, we drove toward the southern end of the Tuniberg, to Freiburg's Eugen Keidel Themal Mineralbad. There, we immersed ourselves in soothing baths filled with natural spring water.

According to the literature, the water emerges from its source at 45^oC; the pool temperatures we enjoyed ranged from 34 to 38^oC. The water fizzes gently; it's chock full of minerals and trace amounts of heavy metals, with sulfate, hydrogen carbonate, calcium, sodium, magnesium, chloride, and potassium taking the starring roles.

We began our visit in the well heated changing rooms, went through the well heated showers, and emerged in the well heated indoor pool room. We spent much of our time swimming in the "Movement Pool" and appreciating the remarkably strong water jets that line half its circumference. Each pump is marked with a sign identifying the part of the body that will receive the theraputic water massage: feet and ankles; lower leg; knees; upper leg; buttocks; lower back; upper back/neck; and then the cycle repeats. You settle in front of one of the spouts, and when an innocuous chime sounds a few minutes later, you and the entire semi-circle of fellow water-massage recipients along the pool wall shift one jet counter-clockwise.

Another indoor pool is a gateway to the outdoor pools. You step in, walk between the strips of plastic hanging over the egress, and then you're outside with your head in near-freezing air and your body in stimulatingly hot water. The first pool leads into a cooler one that opens, in turn, into a larger circular one. Pumps along the latter's wall create a swift current that people ride in sweeping circles around a cental, walled bubble pool. Lights in the water illuminate the huge clouds of steam that billow into the dark night sky.

We left the baths feeling well-exercised, refreshed, and toasty, and glad in the end for the cruddy weather that drove us to discover this winter oasis.

Badenweiler and a ruins triple whammy

If one remembered to bring one's bathing suit (which, of course, we didn't), where would one go for a thermal cure around here? Scenic Badenweiler, of course! This morning, we drove 30 km south to this posh tourists' mecca, merely looking for non-rain. We realized it was a vacation destination when we noticed all the people out and about and all the stores open for business--in Germany on a SUNDAY.

Folks have been enjoying mineral cures in Badenweiler for at least a few millennia. The name "Badenweiler" means "Bath town;" the Romans, who also knew the pleasures of a good hot soak, had called it Aquae Villae. ("Villa" and "Weiler" are etymologically related; the German and Roman names mean the same thing.) In addition to access to the toasty hotsprings, the location provided the Romans with a strategically advantageous view of the upper Rhine Valley. Celts who were living in the area before the arrival of the Romans were assimilated into the town.

The ruins of an elaborate Roman bathhouse were unearthed in the 1780s. An excavated stone indicates the spa was dedicated to the goddess Diana Abnoba--a name that blends the Roman goddess of the hunt (Diana) with the Celtic goddess of the Black Forest (Abnoba). Today, the ruins are protected from the elements under a huge, arched glass ceiling.

No strategically advantageous view of the upper Rhine Valley would be complete, of course, without a 12th-century Burg built by the local nobility (Zaehringers, in this case), destroyed by angry peasants during the Bauernkrieg of 1524-25, further trampled during the Thirty Years' War, and rebuilt in the 17th century before being emphatically and permanently pounded back down by the French (1678). Yadda yadda, same ol', same ol'--and yet, how they beckon! Elias gave them a B+ (good variety, but not as extensive as Hochburg).

Badenweiler rests beneath the 1165m Blauen, so we decided to take a quick hike up to the peak. As is often the case, our "quick hike" morphed into an almost 10-mile trek through multiple ecological and climatological zones and ever-changing weather conditions. Our initial ascent was under bright sunshine with intermittent rain that shifted into fog. By the time we reached the Wirtshaus (inn) at the top of the Blauen, we were tromping through a few inches of snow. Elias, who hadn't been so thrilled by the steep climb, was beside himself with glee, thanks to the snowball lobbing opportunities.

After refreshing ourselves with nutritious ice cream and french fries, we continued along the ridge to the neighboring Stockberg (1076m), site of more ruins. Sometime around the birth of Christ, plus or minus 500 years, the Celts built a circular stone wall up there, possibly for use as a lunar observatory (according to our little Badische Zeitung pocket hiking guide). Given that these ruins are about three times as old as the Burg Badenweiler ruins down below, it was no wonder they were a little more ramshackle.

By the time we made it to Stockberg, it was surprisingly late, and we were worried about getting out of the woods before the sun set. We picked up the pace, and Elias earned major brownie points for his endurance and good cheer.