The poor weather continued but it didn't dampen our spirits to go out and explore and today we'd visit where the European and American tectonic plates met at Thingvellir National Park.
It was easy to imagine why the producers of Game of Thrones utilised the area as a filming location as we walked between the cracks of the Earth's crust.
We returned to the cabin early afternoon after a quick stop at the supermarket for supplies but not before our second roadside hotdog of the week for lunch.
After looking at the weather forecast our best bet to make the most of the early evening was to head a short distance south to the coast where it was most likely clear skies and possibly a sunset.
As we arrived there was no sun, just clouds, plenty wind and a less than optimistic chance for a sunset. Regardless we parked up to survey the beach and that looked a little disappointing too.
One of us spotted what looked like the music museum we had read about and we walked over to inspect further. It was actually a ghost museum that was strangely open on a day it said it was closed with a woman upstairs at the bar and ticket booth dressed a little like an air hostess. We think she was the only person on duty there as she expressed it had been a long and uneventful day. We decided against the tour of the ghost museum which supposedly was all about a handful of ghost stories related to the area.
Shortly after we spotted an abandoned house Suzy recognised from Instagram and we went to explore it.
The design looked sort of futuristic from the outside but weathered and stripped of anything other than its structure. This place had clearly been abandoned for some time but the creepiest things were the out of place objects inside as well as creepy mementos such as a teddy bear by the sink. Outside the area was a mess and again with strange objects such as a spit roast and a nice pair of concrete chairs that looked kind of stylish.
The natural progression of this unexpected experience was each of us telling a ghost story about the boy who once lived here. On some level we began to creep each other out and as we took in more of the scenery on our walk along the seafront back to the car our stories became more consolidated to the point of us fearing whether we would be able to get out of this place. For such a drab place we most certainly found humour within. Just before we got back in the car, we walked past the nearby church. There lay in the graveyard a painted white double bed frame with a notice affixed in replacement for a gravestone. This place was either haunted or everyone in it had some dark sense of humour.
Before heading back for the evening we tried chasing a sunset but ended up saying hello to some Icelandic ponies.