Page 1 of Adrift in Iceland
1
LEIFUR MAGNÚSSON SAT on the edge of the harbour in Hafnarfjörður, his legs dangling over the side, staring down past his boots into the cold water, looking for answers. He’d probably spent more time in this harbour than anywhere else in his life, and that was of some comfort, even today. His fishing boat,Brimfaxi, was moored next to him and shifted from side to side in rhythm with the gentle waves that lapped at the harbour walls. Except she wasn’t a fishing boat anymore. Right now, he didn’t know what she was. It would break his heart to let her go. She was the only thing he had left of his family’s fishing legacy, and that weighed heavily on him.
He drew his gaze up beyond the harbour wall and out to sea. The North Atlantic. The sea that had been his livelihood and that of his family for so many years had nothing left to give him. He knew what he needed to do, but for a proud, knowledgeable fisherman, it was hard to bear thinking about. And that was how he found himself sitting here. Maybe there was another option that he hadn’t thought of. But he knew there wasn’t. He’d already spent countless hours sitting right here, contemplating the future, and this was the only way. Today, he was going to cast off, sail around the peninsula toReykjavik and, for the first time in his life, ask someone for help.
He sighed, stood up and stretched his arms over his head, moving his hips from side to side in an attempt to work out the kinks in his lower back. Although it was a life he loved — the only life he’d known — fishing was tough on a person’s body, and Leifur, at thirty-six, was feeling it. Maybe there was a silver-lining in all of this after all.
After he climbed on board and made some preliminary checks, he radioed into the harbour master and then set his course. He pulled in the ropes, settled himself in the wheelhouse and guidedBrimfaxiout of the harbour and onto the sea. It was a grey day, and as soon as he was in open water, the wind picked up and rolled the boat back and forth as it smacked across the white-tipped waves. Leifur grinned. He loved this. The motion of the boat on the sea made him feel truly alive in a way nothing else did, and it was a timely reminder of exactly why he’d done whatever he could to keepBrimfaxiand forge a new path for both of them. The sea was part of him, and he couldn’t give that up without it tearing a part of his soul out at the same time. Asking for help was hard, but not as hard as the alternative.
Once he rounded the peninsula, Leifur radioed the Reykjavik harbour master asking for a mooring in the Old Harbour, the area closest to the city centre and where he’d arranged to meet Jonas Einarsson.
Leifur and Jonas had been at school together, albeit Jonas was a few years younger. They weren’t exactly friends but if they saw each other, they’d pass the time of day, and Reykjavik is a small place, so Leifur knew Jonas ran a successful tour company. He also knew that Jonas didn’t currently offer boat trips, and he hoped he could offer him the opportunity to tap into that market, with the fact they already knew each other working in his favour.
‘Hæ,Leifur!’ Jonas called out as he approached the harbour entrance. He was carrying two coffees and handed one to Leifur.
‘Hæ,Jonas.Takk.’ He shook Jonas’s hand and took the coffee with a small nod of gratitude. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet.’
‘It’s an interesting proposition,’ said Jonas as he followed Leifur back toBrimfaxi. ‘What made you decide to stop fishing?’
Leifur stopped walking, wishing that hadn’t been the first question.
‘We rely on landing capelin, and last year there weren’t any.’ It was the simplest of explanations and had been the catalyst for their family fishing business failing almost overnight. It was unprecedented that there had been no capelin in Icelandic waters last year, and with the quotas of other catches already spoken for, there was nothing they could do.
‘I heard about that. I’m sorry. And you don’t think there’s any chance of that changing?’
Leifur shrugged. ‘I can’t take the chance. I can’t support my family on hope.’ Since his father had died almost fifteen years ago, he had to support his mother. His younger brother had been all too happy to join a larger boat working for a big industrial fishing company, which although it felt like a betrayal at the time, meant that Leifur didn’t have to worry about supporting him too.
Jonas nodded, his expression full of understanding. It was well known that the fishing industry in Iceland was changing. Small fishing businesses like Leifur’s were being bought out by large companies, which were stiff competition for anyone not wanting to go down that road. The lack of capelin was not the only problem.
‘She looks like a fine vessel. Permission to come aboard?’Jonas asked with a grin as they reachedBrimfaxi.
‘Permission granted,’ Leifur said, breaking into a rare smile himself.
They stood on the deck, which aside from the room taken up by fishing equipment, was expansive but open to the elements.
‘What changes would you need to make to get her up to scratch for excursions?’ Jonas asked.
‘I have a friend who is a boat builder. He suggests taking the fishing equipment out, fitting railings around the deck, and putting some seating in the middle.’
‘We’d need a platform for the tour guide to stand on so that they have a good view of the water all around the boat.’
‘That’s no problem,’ said Leifur, hoping that was true.
‘Is there anything that can be done to make any undercover space?’ Jonas asked, nodding towards the wheelhouse that housed the controls, which was only big enough for a couple of people.
Leifur reached down and opened a large hatch. Steep metal steps led below deck into the hull of the boat. ‘Follow me,’ he said, jumping down while Jonas took each step carefully.
They were standing in a small space which, although it was head height, wasn’t usable at the moment.
‘We can make the hatch bigger and fit proper stairs,’ Leifur explained. ‘We’ll remove the fish holds, and then this will be almost the same size as the upper deck. We can fit windows and install comfortable seating. The galley and forward berth are through here. We will refit the galley to make it larger so we can serve hot drinks, soup, that kind of thing.’
‘That’s a lot of work. And presumably will cost a lot of money,’ Jonas said.
‘It’s an investment for sure, but my friend can turn it around in a month and will do the best he can on the cost.’
‘It’s an exciting idea. I’d love to offer boat excursions aspart of our summer programme. We lose the northern lights tours by April, so this would fill that gap. Have you thought about how you want this to work?’
In that moment, Leifur knew he’d done the right thing in approaching Jonas. He could have gone into it by himself; there were plenty of ex-fishermen who had made the move into the tourist industry, but being part of an established brand like Iceland Adventures from the start would make all the difference. He appreciated that Jonas didn’t wade in and call the shots, knowing he had the upper hand. That didn’t seem like Jonas’s style.
