The journey to the highlands in Iceland proved to be a long one.  Not (solely) because the road was difficult to travel on.  Not because the weather was unlike the balmy one we've been used to in Southern California.  As most situations in life, we can't blame anyone but ourselves.  Look, we are two hopelessly distractible people.  Remember, "Not All Who Wander are Lost"? 

After saying goodbye (or rather "hello to Obama"?) to the sheep farmer, we moved on, not exactly sure what was going to happen next.  Approaching a single lane bridge ("Einbreið brú" in Icelandic), we experienced our first traffic congestion in Iceland, caused by sheep, thousands and thousands of them.  It was there that we met more sheep farmers, in bright orange outfits.

Turned out, it was the season for these sheep to go home.  There they are, coming down in fluffs and then filing into a white string of pearls descending along the edge of the glacier lake Hvítárvatn.  For some reason, this image reminds me of a scene from less than a year earlier, on our way to the Antarctica.  A herd of people, one following another, moving by the cold blue water...      

While I was busy asking questions like "so, are these all Icelandic sheep", I secretly wished that this would never end and my camera could continue meeting one more herd after the last one.  I did also learn that these sheep had spent most of the year wild in the mountains, fending the natural elements with all they've got.  So, it was no surprise that they'd be camera-shy.  I don't blame them, I felt that I had to learn how to cross a street after spending time in Iceland.  But, would someone help me process what I see here?  

Icelandic sheep are odd odd people.    

Question for you: Do you know why Icelandic sheep are going home in September?