Killing Keiko by Mark A. Simmons Read Free Book Online Page A

outward. Houses appeared more like shelters disguised as homes. Their stalwart construction
     put the Three Little Pigs’ handiwork to shame.
    Icelanders that call Heimaey their home are proud of the island’s many Viking charms.
     Among them it boasts the highest recorded winds of any populated area in Iceland.
     A remote weather station on the southernmost extent of the island had routinely, and
     I stress “routinely,” documented sustained winds of more than 140 miles per hour;
     the most notable records cataloging speeds in excess of 200 miles per hour.
    The heart of downtown consisted of a couple of cross streets lined with small shops,
     a geodesic-shaped grocery store and various multipurpose office buildings. Of course
     the majority of the town’s economy was centered on fisheries. This was a niche community
     of nearly 5,000 Icelanders that was, by short description, a remote fishing village
     (or a drinking village with a fishing problem). Almost fifteen percent of Iceland’s
     fishing exports came from this small town on Heimaey. It was a lifestyle and culture
     thatwould in ways provide both advantage and menace to the Keiko project down the road.
    The sometimes extreme elements of the far North were not the only adversary that lent
     to the island’s rich character. Vestmannaeyjar is the home of two notorious volcanoes,
     Helgafel and Eldfel. Both seem to tower over the small island town with an ageless
     indifference, yet no rational islander feels any indifference toward them. In 1973
     Eldfel erupted and after blowing off steam for five months left the landscape forever
     changed. There is no shortage of locals in the Westman Islands who remember this event
     firsthand. Over the following many months I spent in Vestmannaeyjar, I would hear
     harrowing tales of the violent eruption. The lava that erupted from Eldfel covered
     parts of the town and increased the island’s mass by nearly one fifth. Still, Vestmannaeyjar
     overflowed with an otherworldly charisma, not exactly what one would expect in a place
     called Iceland.
    Part of the island created by the eruption in 1973 now serves as an overlook from
     the mouth of the island’s harbor. At the end of the short tour, Robin took us to the
     overlook to see the operation from a more full view and to briefly spend time alone
     before meeting the staff. From here I could look directly north and see the bay pen,
     the base of operations and Keiko’s temporary Icelandic home. In order to step out
     on the overlook, I had to open the car door for the first time since arriving, which
     was promptly ripped from my grasp by the winds funneling across the elevated observation
     point.
Stupendous
, I thought, not forty-five minutes on the island and I had already made my “mark”
     on the project. The door of that truck would never work smoothly again, popping and
     resisting each time it was opened or closed.
Nice
, I thought.
I’m sure that will gain favor
. Besides the wind, the weather was impressively mild, about twenty-eight degrees
     Fahrenheit; not the frigid biting cold anticipated this close to the Arctic Circle.
     The overlook appeared more like a flat spot amidst the volcanic rock than any tourist
     vista, remiss of any visitor amenities. We were the only patrons of its unearthly
     view that afternoon.
    Waves crashing against the cliffs to the east of the overlook immediately commanded
     my attention. Despite the fact that the rise is well above sea level, there were geysers
     of saltwater being thrown high in the air above the edge of the drop-off; striking
     literally and figuratively. Opposite the overlook, the bay pen was nestled in a U-shaped
     bay just inside the mouth of a long, somewhat narrow channel. This was the entry channel
     to the well-protected harbor at the heart of the town.
    The bay itself was surrounded on three sides by cliffs that shot angrily straight
     up from the water and towered hundreds of feet over the bay. My first