“Regulations,”   he  shrugged.   Ármannsson  had     also    brought     along   his
fishing  partner     and     a   cooler  filled  with    soda    and     cookies.    He  seemed
pleased to  be  making  a   trip    that    didn’t  involve cod.
We   motored     out     of  the     harbor  and     headed  south,  around  the
Reykjanes   Peninsula.  It  was clear   enough  that    we  could   see the snow-
covered peak    of  Snæfellsjökull, more    than    sixty   miles   away.   (To English
speakers,   Snæfellsjökull  is  probably    best    known   as  the spot    where   in  Jules
Verne’s A   Journey to  the Center  of  the Earth   the hero    finds   a   tunnel  through
the globe.) Eldey,  being   much    shorter than    Snæfellsjökull, was not yet
visible.    Sveinsson   explained   that    Eldey’s name    means   “fire   island.”    He  said
that    although    he’d    spent   his entire  life    in  the area,   he’d    never   before  been
out to  it. He’d    brought along   a   fancy   camera  and was shooting    pictures
more    or  less    continuously.
As  Sveinnson   snapped away,   I   chatted with    Ármannsson  inside  the
Stella’s     small   cabin.  I   was     intrigued   to  see     that    he  had     dramatically
different   colored eyes,   one blue    and one hazel.  Usually,    he  told    me, he
fished  for cod using   a   long    line    that    extended    six miles   and trailed twelve
thousand    hooks.  The baiting of  the hooks   was his father’s    job,    and it  took
nearly  two days.   A   good    catch   could   weigh   more    than    seven   metric  tons.
Often    Ármannsson  slept   on  the    Stella,  which   was     equipped    with    a
microwave   and two skinny  berths.
After   a   while,  Eldey   appeared    on  the horizon.    The island  looked  like
the base    of  an  enormous    column, or  like    a   giant   pedestal    waiting for an
even    more    gigantic    statue. When    we  got within  maybe   a   mile,   I   could   see
that     the     top     of  the     island,     which   from    a   distance    appeared    flat,   was
actually    tilted  at  about   a   ten-degree  angle.  We  were    approaching from    the
shorter end,    so  we  could   look    across  the entire  surface.    It  was white   and
appeared    to  be  rippling.   As  we  got closer, I   realized    that    the ripples were
birds—so    many    that    they    seemed  to  blanket the island—and  when    we  got
even    closer, I   could   see that    the birds   were    gannets—elegant creatures
with     long    necks,  cream-colored   heads,  and     tapered     beaks.  Sveinsson
explained   that    Eldey   was home    to  one of  the world’s largest colonies    of
                    
                      tuis.
                      (Tuis.)
                      
                    
                #1
            
            