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Island Adventure 2, Part 2: Almost Total Victory

I woke up to a familiar sight. Outside the vehicle I had slept in was Brian, on the phone, trying to get us help with our latest predicament. And, just as last time with being stuck in mud, our unfailingly benevolent neighbors came to our rescue.

"I don't let anyone besides my dad work on my motor. He could have you going in forty five minutes."

I didn't believe him for two reasons. First, it seemed absolutely impossible that we could be in possession of a functioning boat. Him fixing our motor would violate this apparent law of the universe. Second, I have an inappropriate hubris that prohibits me from fathoming that experts could possibly fix something that I was unable to fix.

Our motor wasn't working in forty five minutes, it was working in about fifteen. Perfectly. And the gear oil was checked, the shaft was lubricated, and a new choke lever was fashioned out of a screw.


On Vagablond Views

We were out on one of our Saturday jaunts with no particular place to go, when I spotted an intriguing feature on the map. (This is why I prefer maps to GPS, which doesn't give the big picture view of the territory to the left and right of your current trajectory.) #icelandsecret

There seemed to be a bridge or road or some sort of connection to an offshore island off Route 1 northeast of Reykjavik in a town called Grafarvogur.

Now some might argue that if there's a road, it can't be an island. But if it's a causeway that's under water at high tide, I respectfully insist that it is, at least some of the time, surrounded by water, the very definition of an island. And this distinction is essential to my assertion that we actually did what the title of this post says we did. The causeway is a rough, lava-strewn strip with a rocky beach on either side, but it was passable at low tide.

The second "island" in the title refers to the fact that Iceland is an island. There should be no quibbling about that.

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