Bernharður Guðmundsson

Certified Travel Blogger

Englanti

I'm 30 year old and i live in close connection to the nature in rural Iceland. My farm lies in a valley called Valþjófsdalur, which is in the beautiful Westfjords. I know nothing better than move around outdoors and capture my home area in pictures. I try to possess an eye for visualizing the human in animals, and to catch the feeling of the landscape.

Suurin matkapalvelujen valikoima

Parhaan hinnan takuu

Helppo varaus ja peruutus

Suosituin Islantia käsittelevä sivusto

Omat blogini

All time popular

Bernharður Guðmundsson

Northern lights in the Westfjords

Einar Benediktsson (1864-1940) is one of Iceland’s most revered poets. He was an influential figure in the independence movement of Iceland, a lawyer and a highly ambitious entrepreneur. His poetry has been classified as neo-romantic, collected in five books during his lifetime. This is the poem Northern lights and was published 1897 . Translated by my friend Sveinbjörn Jónsson. Does the son of the dust know anything more beautiful than the palace of gods in electronic flames? Seeing ground and bay underneath a golden bow!— Who can now settle with cards and wine? Even the soil is cle

Bernharður Guðmundsson

Living in the Westfjords

Hello Folks, and welcome to my blog! I guess I’ll introduce myself as this is my first blog post here on Guide to Iceland. My name is Bernhardur Gudmundsson, but people call me Benni. My farm Kirkjuból is located in the northwest corner of Iceland, namely in a region known as the Westfjords. There are two farmhouses on Kirkjuból, and my next door neighbours are my parents. For generation my family has lived here, working either as fishermen or farmers (or bit of both). My parents raise sheep, and as such continue my family heritage of living of the land. We are the only remaining residents

Bernharður Guðmundsson

The Westfjords mountains

- Son, where are you going? My father sits behind the kitchen window enjoying his oatmeal. -I am going out, somewhere upwards, can't you see the lights in the sky, I say, while I am heading out armed with an old shepherd staff. My father takes a break from chowing down his favourite dish, glances up and tells me to keep an eye on the sheep and finishes the sentence with the old familiar phrase “and remember that it is not always best to go down the mountain the same way you went up it”. I smile and nod of course. I wouldn't trust any man better than my father, when it comes down to knowin