National Geographic : 1969 Aug
fish-processing plant. The entire fjord, stretching for eight miles, looked like a milky pool. On our descent, I joined local trout fishermen beside the Fjardhara river but failed, despite an hour of casting, to land so much as a minnow. We had fresh fish for dinner anyway-small cod Pat caught with little effort from De light's deck (page 249). Norwegian Skipper Warns of Danger That evening we were invited for coffee aboard Nornen, a Norwegian naval vessel. I told the officer in charge, Capt. Johan Mydske, how lucky we felt to have hit Seydhisfjor dhur on the nose in the fog after a 300-mile passage. Captain Mydske raised an eyebrow. "You may not be so lucky another time. Have you read the British Arctic Pilot about weather here?" He handed me a copy, and I read, "The frequency and violence of frontal activity over much of the area is not ex ceeded elsewhere in the world." "And," added the captain, "the dirtiest weather starts in about a week; that is, after September 1. If I were you, I would sail for Great Britain right now, as soon as you finish that coffee." Later we would wish we had taken his advice. 252 Making the most of a land strewn with glaciers, lava fields, mountains, and deserts, Ice landic farmers wrest a living from less than 1 percent of the island's total area. Hay, raised for livestock, ranks as the main crop. Blessed by long hours of summer sunlight, the grass grows rapidly, sometimes per mitting three cuttings a year. In Hella (above) a lad rides a hay rake pulled by an Icelandic pony, a breed imported to the island more than a thousand years ago. Haying outside Djuipivogur (above, right) becomes a harvest ballet. Near Hella (right) a solemn youngster milks a family cow.