29th June 2015
Waiting for the boat at Veiðileysufjörður (0km), (0m)
One of the few merits of Botn campsite is that it is exactly where the boat arrives: just below the latrine, the Zodiac comes ashore on the beach to shuttle you out. It is 9.20am and most of our gear is packed in readiness for the 9am boat that will take us back to Isafjordur. The wind still rips through Botn in powerful gusts, as it did all night. I did not have a lot of sleep, a half-open eye watching for the first sign that the tent’s fly-sheet was about to be ripped from the earth and flung across the fjord on the angry air. And yet, despite the lack of sleep, the thought of return, of buildings and of reliable ground, of not having to walk for miles with 15kg on my back, has lifted my spirits.
It’s not even raining. I know that tomorrow, or maybe in two days’ time, I will find myself missing this, longing to return, but for now I have no regrets to be leaving. A bed and food that has never been dehydrated are strong lures; getting out of this wind at last, more so.
Simon has spent much of the morning down on the beach watching two families of Eiders cosset their ducklings; Alex and Theo are still in their half-unmade tent, taking the last of its shelter, watchful for the first sign of a wake line in the fjord. My own nook, in the crease of a ridge, is among ripening bog bilberries and creeping birch.
It is 9.30am and the 9am boat has yet to make an appearance in the bay. I contemplate a morning tot of my remaining whisky – the prospect of passing from Zodiac to boat still make me a little anxious – but decide against: there is a wake line in the fjord. Time to help Alex and Theo strike their tent, and make final preparations for the beginning of our return.