Viking ingenuity Iceland's best asset

I visited Iceland this past August aboard the Queen Elizabeth 2 as she made her final calls to Iceland and Norway before retiring to become a floating hotel in Dubai. I did not have any great expectations of the "land of fire and ice" except as a scenic backdrop to the Queen Elizabeth 2.

We expected our focus to be the stately Queen: romantic black-tie dinners, fussy teas with pinkies at attention, or gin and tonics in the casino. It was a chance for my husband to play James Bond, and for me to be his sexy, pun-nishly named Bond "Girl."

Now that we are home, however, our memories are not of the Queen's old world elegance, but of the isolated, old towns and gutsy, determined people of Iceland.

My first view of Iceland, through my porthole, was of a group of isolated, whitewashed buildings, hunkered down against the wind and rain, on a hill overlooking Reykjavik harbor. All of the romance of the Viking sagas, Leif Ericson, ruthless and determined to build a settlement on this inhospitable volcanic island was, for me, represented in these humble, strong and starkly beautiful buildings.

Our ports of call were Reykjavik in the south, Isafjordur in the northwest, and Akureyri in the northeast. With each stop, we would set off to explore the country's unique geologic wonders.

Just outside of Reykjavik were lava fields, black-sand beaches, and geothermal steam vents billowing out of parking lots or someone's front yard. Our guide happily talked about the "new" Iceland and its place in the world economy.

Geothermal energy provided free heating for the city's residents, as well as an opportunity to export energy in the form of smelted aluminum. Iceland's banks were, we were told, banks for the world, and the basis of the new economy.

Isafjordur, the capital of the western fjords, was not so geothermally or economically blessed. This city of only 3,000 people continues, as much as possible, with a traditional maritime economy. Our expectations of Isafjordur were small, to taste fermented shark, wash the taste out of our mouth with the national liquor, Brennivin, and enjoy the unpolluted natural environment.

I felt humbled by this small city and its even smaller neighbor, Bolungarvik. How is it possible that these communities could survive for over 1,000 years in such a remote location with nothing but the sea and a short agricultural season to sustain them?

Finally, we traveled to Akureyri to visit Godafoss Waterfall (Waterfall of the Gods) where in 1,000 AD an Icelandic chief threw his pagan idols into the waterfall to announce a conversion to Christianity. Yes, the falls invoked awe, but it was our guide who inspired.

Halvorson knew much about the flora, the fauna, the geology, and how to survive in the brutal Icelandic wilderness. He casually mentioned he was a dentist and serenaded us with traditional accordion music as we scrambled through the dark sod walls of a centuries-old farm.

Now, Iceland is facing national bankruptcy. I am confident that a country that can raise animals on a glacier and subsist on fermented shark will recover. Icelanders will hunker down against this economic tempest, and that same Viking ingenuity and tenacity that settled this country will see them through; the same way it has for 1,000 years.

Toni Campbell lives in Bothell.

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