I pulled into the Skogar parking lot at 3:00. I learned about the Iceland farmhouses, and Skogar in particular while researching precedents for a housing competition in the Atka, Alaska, a tiny village sitting in the middle of the Bearing Sea on the Aleutian Peninsula, halfway between North America and Asia. I imagine the environments are very similar, cold winters and high winds, with little in the way of natural resources. The native Aleuts, would dig out the earth, place a whale’s ribcage structure over the top and lay sod over the top. The structure, called a Barabara, would protect them from the cold north winds, kind of an earthen igloo. The idea behind these Icelandic wasn’t too different, if a little more up-to-date.

The traditional site at Skogar has slowly been pieced together by a gentleman named Pordur Tomasson, whom I was fortunate enough to meet while walking around and doing a little sketching. The structures have these massive stone bases that shield them from the persistent winds, then walls and roof structures are made from driftwood collected from the sea. Large slate tiles are laid on the ceiling structure and sod on top of that to provide insulation. They are quite beautiful little buildings.

Pordur was a really interesting guy. His parents lived on the site here until about 1947. Pordur himself was probably about 90 years old, and going strong. When he saw me sketching, he came over to ask if I was an artist. I explained I was an architect, which he took great delight in, then he took me by the hand and led me through the entire complex, explaining random little facts about the place and the people who used to live there. First the most rustic of the structures, built between 1803 and the mid 1800’s, then onto the more recent housing structure built in the late 1800’s and inhabited up until the 1970’s (see the sketches attached of this one). Here a series of three building’s were erected at one compact site. The plan was really interesting with a lot happening both vertically and horizontally. The livestock would live in barns below the main living structure, using the heat from the animals to keep the house warm during the winter months. Pordur then led me to the old community church and finally the schoolhouse, holding my hand and leading me along the entire time. He finally let go when we got into the schoolhouse, where he entertained me with a couple of songs on the organ. Afterwards we shared a cup of coffee and chatted before I headed out on my way. It was 4:30 now and in needed to start making my way back to Reykjavik.

I tried to find some hot springs recommended to me on the way, but was unsuccessful. So now it was 5:00, and I really needed to get back. I had an flight the next morning and wanted to find some traditional Icelandic fare for dinner before leaving. Who knew when I would be back... So as I went into autopilot mode, I met some more locals... this time the find men serving on the national Icelandic police force... Unlike in the U.S., they take their speed limits very seriously, and 108km in a 90km Max zone is generally frowned upon. I’ll give them credit, they were very polite the entire time. They asked me to the back of the police car (I almost asked if I could take a picture with them, but thought that might be unwise... in hindsight I regret not asking) and asked me if I was enjoying my time in Iceland... “At least until thees moment”. As I was issued my summons (paid on the spot) for 25,000 krona (roughly $200), one of them said to me in broken English “Here... eis a souvenir from your trip...”

I was pretty drained at this point, so I (very cautiously) drove back to Reykjavik, dropped off the rental car, and checked back into the guest house. The kind young woman at the desk directed me to a restaurant around the corner: Prir Frakkar. A nice little spot with both locals and tourists, where you could find some well prepared local delicacies. The smoked puffin was OK, but the Minke Whale pepper steak was excellent. The less a whale tastes like fish the better, and this was a good damn steak. To finish off dinner, and my time in Iceland I had a shot of ‘the black death’ or whatever they call it there...