dr_wu002
Well-known member
Now, the thing that got me to go to Iceland was not the fantastic hiking, the volcanoes, the fjörds or even 24 hours of sunlight. No, I was promised that I'd not only be able to see but that I'd also be able to pet (and hell, even hug and kiss) a puffin -- the most lovable, wonderful creature in the world!
I assumed that the moment the plane touched down and the doors opened in Reykjavík that I'd be swarmed with cuddly, fun-loving puffins. That we'd have 100's in our tent, entertaining us, at any given time. That they'd take me in their webbed feet and fly me high over the glaciers and mountains. That we'd take several with us back to Boston to start our own Puffin Farm. I had all these notions but when we got to Reykjavík Airport, all I saw was the bus to Reykjavík City leaving without us but nary a puffin in sight.
In fact, even when we left Reykjavík and traveled along the coast we saw none (except once where there were several floating in the water but so far away that I could barely see them even with binoculars -- I needed the Hubble Telescope). Everywhere we went, the puffins hid from our presence as if I were Dr. Wu, some great and horrific hunter of puffins. I even went so far as to suggest that perhaps they had gone extinct.
Our rapidly diminishing chances to see a puffin (let alone pet) had one last solid opportunity -- a remote and fairly inaccessible but highly talked about region in the West Fjörds of Iceland (that amoeba-like region in the North West) called Látrabjarg Cliffs or simply Bird Cliffs. And to get there, of course you have a never-ending dirt road that culminates with a single track mountain pass w/ talus slope on one side and 800' drop off on the other, no room for a car coming in the opposite direction, and oh... a 15% grade. Thankfully there were no cars coming in my direction because, I wasn't about to back up on a one-lane dirt road on a 15% grade -- I was just going to close my eyes and cry until it was all over.
Safely we arrive at this bird-infested paradise only to discover -- where the hell are the puffins. I see birds of every type... I even thought I saw big bird walking in the distance and maybe a dodo or two but no damned puffins. I thought I saw one on a cliff somewhere, and I even photographed it but it was so far away I suspect that it was a statue of some sort. Nothing. So, we walked along the path up and across Látrabjarg Cliffs for about 4 or 5 miles and saw hundreds of millions of birds, bird eggs, nasty ravens and no puffins for poor Dr. Wu to pet and cuddle.
As I trudged along, mile after mile, I realized that my hopes were dashed -- this was going to be my final journey, a life's worth of searching and I should come back with empty hands and a chilled heart. I felt hollow, alone and wasted as we finally decided that it was late and we should turn around.
Yet, hope still arose as we took the long trail back to our car (our $125/day Toyota Yarvis Shoebox) that they could have returned -- even from extinction -- to the cliffs for our viewing. That ounce of hope though seemed to vaporize much too quickly as, soon enough, the car was in view and our road would now end.
And then suddenly as it seems, Jess and I looked up, simultaneously and saw and then shouted out, "Puffins!!" And yes, they were there, they had returned from the sea to see Us! They must have sensed our pain and anguish and returned, as quickly as possible, from their winter stomping grounds (in Southern Atlantis or one of those other unknown Mediterranean paradise locations).
We were drunk with excitement -- We photographed. We took videos. We captured the sound of their call (some kind of groan!?). We leaned over the side of a cliff with a 1000' dropoff (Jess leaned while I stood with my back turned and eyes closed) to photograph more puffins & their happy little burrows. They're like, magical flying hobbits almost. Beautiful, funny, slightly un-majestic and clumsy and not entirely afraid of humans at all. They loved us.
Eventually we awoke from our puffin dreams in paradise and returned to the car to make some raman noodle soup and wonder over our little foray into Nirvana. I had not petted a single puffin, but for me, the mission was accomplished. I could go home now and rest and be with my fathers, and their fathers before them. In the long line of Wu (Bock, actually) one had finally seen, photographed and said 'hello' to a puffin. After nearly 50 million years on earth, the long line had been fulfilled.
Here are some pictures:
http://community.webshots.com/album/394625322EVLIZS
-Dr. Wu
I assumed that the moment the plane touched down and the doors opened in Reykjavík that I'd be swarmed with cuddly, fun-loving puffins. That we'd have 100's in our tent, entertaining us, at any given time. That they'd take me in their webbed feet and fly me high over the glaciers and mountains. That we'd take several with us back to Boston to start our own Puffin Farm. I had all these notions but when we got to Reykjavík Airport, all I saw was the bus to Reykjavík City leaving without us but nary a puffin in sight.
In fact, even when we left Reykjavík and traveled along the coast we saw none (except once where there were several floating in the water but so far away that I could barely see them even with binoculars -- I needed the Hubble Telescope). Everywhere we went, the puffins hid from our presence as if I were Dr. Wu, some great and horrific hunter of puffins. I even went so far as to suggest that perhaps they had gone extinct.
Our rapidly diminishing chances to see a puffin (let alone pet) had one last solid opportunity -- a remote and fairly inaccessible but highly talked about region in the West Fjörds of Iceland (that amoeba-like region in the North West) called Látrabjarg Cliffs or simply Bird Cliffs. And to get there, of course you have a never-ending dirt road that culminates with a single track mountain pass w/ talus slope on one side and 800' drop off on the other, no room for a car coming in the opposite direction, and oh... a 15% grade. Thankfully there were no cars coming in my direction because, I wasn't about to back up on a one-lane dirt road on a 15% grade -- I was just going to close my eyes and cry until it was all over.
Safely we arrive at this bird-infested paradise only to discover -- where the hell are the puffins. I see birds of every type... I even thought I saw big bird walking in the distance and maybe a dodo or two but no damned puffins. I thought I saw one on a cliff somewhere, and I even photographed it but it was so far away I suspect that it was a statue of some sort. Nothing. So, we walked along the path up and across Látrabjarg Cliffs for about 4 or 5 miles and saw hundreds of millions of birds, bird eggs, nasty ravens and no puffins for poor Dr. Wu to pet and cuddle.
As I trudged along, mile after mile, I realized that my hopes were dashed -- this was going to be my final journey, a life's worth of searching and I should come back with empty hands and a chilled heart. I felt hollow, alone and wasted as we finally decided that it was late and we should turn around.
Yet, hope still arose as we took the long trail back to our car (our $125/day Toyota Yarvis Shoebox) that they could have returned -- even from extinction -- to the cliffs for our viewing. That ounce of hope though seemed to vaporize much too quickly as, soon enough, the car was in view and our road would now end.
And then suddenly as it seems, Jess and I looked up, simultaneously and saw and then shouted out, "Puffins!!" And yes, they were there, they had returned from the sea to see Us! They must have sensed our pain and anguish and returned, as quickly as possible, from their winter stomping grounds (in Southern Atlantis or one of those other unknown Mediterranean paradise locations).
We were drunk with excitement -- We photographed. We took videos. We captured the sound of their call (some kind of groan!?). We leaned over the side of a cliff with a 1000' dropoff (Jess leaned while I stood with my back turned and eyes closed) to photograph more puffins & their happy little burrows. They're like, magical flying hobbits almost. Beautiful, funny, slightly un-majestic and clumsy and not entirely afraid of humans at all. They loved us.
Eventually we awoke from our puffin dreams in paradise and returned to the car to make some raman noodle soup and wonder over our little foray into Nirvana. I had not petted a single puffin, but for me, the mission was accomplished. I could go home now and rest and be with my fathers, and their fathers before them. In the long line of Wu (Bock, actually) one had finally seen, photographed and said 'hello' to a puffin. After nearly 50 million years on earth, the long line had been fulfilled.
Here are some pictures:
http://community.webshots.com/album/394625322EVLIZS
-Dr. Wu
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