Sunday, 20 April 2014

Iceland 1: Heathrow to Reykjavik

Well, it's almost the end of April, and I've finally got round to processing some of the pictures from our trip to Iceland last July.  Oh well - serves me right for taking on too many other jobs, I suppose.  I will try - very hard - to finish the processing and post all the pictures from the trip, but here are a few to be going on with.

Here goes...

We arrived in plenty of time at Heathrow, having stayed the previous night in the Sheraton Skyline - a hotel apparently made entirely of plastic (at least, that's what it felt like).  It was a good job as Harriet discovered she had forgotten her Asthma medication, so needed to find a chemists in Terminal 1.  Cue a phone call to our GP, followed by Harriet heading off to Terminal 3 where there was a dispensing pharmacy.  Left to my own devices, I amused myself by taking sneaky pictures of the other travellers.



Everything was easily dealt with, though, so all credit to Boots for sorting things out. After breakfast we headed to the departure gate and waited for Icelandair to let us onto the 'plane.


So far so good.  We got ourselves settled and ready for take off, but it was soon discovered that one of the cargo doors wouldn't shut.  We were stuck with a wonderful view of not very much out of the window; but, to be fair, the cabin crew did their best to keep us informed.  Harriet was sitting next to a very nervous gentleman in his 60s who had never flown before, and the delay was doing absolutely nothing for his nerves.



Eventually - 90 minutes late - we managed to take off.  Most of the flight was cloudy, but the approach to Keflavik was clear.




The pilot made up about 30 minutes on the flight, so only about an hour late arriving in Keflavik.  It's a very new airport - not quite finished, in fact - and absolutely full of loud Americans in transit heading for Boston/Seattle etc.  This is clearly a money-spinner for the Icelanders, fleecing the Americans with cheap flights to/from Europe.  The first picture is a tribute to my elder daughter who works for Rolls Royce.  It's always reassuring to see the RR logo on the side of a jet engine.





We were then taken into the centre of Reykjavik on a coach before being decanted onto minibuses to be taken to our hotels.



We were taken to the Hotel Cabin - a "budget" affair which was full of French & Italian tourists who had just been disgorged from a couple of coaches.  Loathsome.  Then some Germans arrived.  Even more loathsome. 



Still, we had arrived.  Time to dump our luggage in the room and head off for a walk into town (the next exciting instalment).