We spent most of our time in Iceland damp—standing near waterfalls, bathing in hot springs, and avoiding the beach’s sneaky surf.
October 7, 2019
Iceland’s climate was one of the fiercest I’ve ever seen.
Calm and sunny one day, dark and ferocious the next, the weather demanded a respect unlike any other place I’ve traveled. And after a wind-blown door on the rental, getting attacked by a rogue wave, and standing near cliffs in winds that could carry a small child—it earned ours.
Luckily, Iceland showed off its softer side for my boyfriend's cousin's wedding. Questionably legitimate but undeniably beautiful, the couple’s friend officiated the ceremony a short walk off the path near one of Iceland’s most notable waterfalls, Skógafoss.
After the wedding, we spent most of our time with friends and family in Reykjavík, exploring the city and shamelessly doing all of the touristy escapades it had to offer.
Being a smaller city, just about everything you’d want to see in Reykjavík was within walking distance.
One thing I admired most about Reykjavík was the architecture. Everything was pragmatically built for the climate, but had decorative details designed into the structure—like an elegantly shaped roof or painted plaster and corrugated aluminum siding that made the buildings pop against the usually gray sky.
Slightly disappointed that the Northern Lights weren’t the vibrant green and purple I’ve seen in photos, seeing the white aurora dance above us and across the bay was still magical.
I assumed this was going to be the scam of the trip, but was impressed by how close we got to a humpback whale.
Even if we didn’t see any whales, the early morning views alone would have been worth the cruise.
I could have spent our entire trip driving to see Iceland’s landscape. When we weren’t passing waterfalls and coastal waterways, we watched cozy-looking sheep spot the grassy landscape.
We found an Airbnb excursion to snorkel Silfra, a fissure between the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates located in Þingvellir National Park.
We met our group and guide, Heddin, at the van, where he bundled us into dry suits. We waddled to Silfra, awkwardly fell into the 1–2°F water and bobbed our way along the rift.
Our guide brought his new camera to play with and took some incredible photos (courtesy of Diving Island) that captured the 100+ meter clarity of the glacial water coursing through Silfra.
After Hedinn warmed us up with a cup of coffee, we explored the beauty of Þingvellir.
I can see why the Blue Lagoon has become an Iceland landmark.
Impressively developed, the lagoon felt less like a geothermal pool and more like a 5-star spa—complete with swim-up bars and complimentary mud masks.
That said, we visited 2 other lagoons that I appreciated more.
Less developed than Blue Lagoon, Secret Lagoon was everything I hoped for in a geothermal hot spring. The temperature was a perfect 100°F, getting uncomfortably hot only when you got too close to where the thermal spring fed the pool.
Secret Lagoon had a more family friendly feel to it, with tubs of foam noodles outside the changing rooms and pathways educating pedestrians as they wandered between boiling geysers that made the earth steam.
Seljavallalaug was the most remote and rewarding of the pools we swam in.
Nestled up on the mountains, we had to cross private property (unlike Americans, the Icelandic are fine with that) and hike about a mile to get to the unmanned lagoon and all but abandoned changing rooms.
The pool was built into the mountainside, capturing the thermal spring water that trickled over the mossy rock. Algae lining the pool made it slick, but turned the water a beautiful deep green color that complemented the incredible mountain views surrounding it.
We found a cottage in Vik on one of Iceland’s most famous beaches. The idyllic wood cottage was one of the coziest places I’ve been, all bathed in warm light with a bed tucked behind the kitchenette.
I’ve never been so comfortable getting no sleep, listening to the cottage creak through the night under the coastal winds that roared like rolling thunder.
On Reynisfjara, we were warned about deadly “sneaker waves”, which were waves that piggy-backed off other waves and crashed far up on shore quickly and unexpectedly. Despite keeping a safe distance, a speedy surf surprised me, making my thankfully waterproof phone and the keys to our cottage fall from my pocket.
We never found the keys.
My boyfriend's friend was kind enough to give us a Jeep tour through the Icelandic highlands (in the Fjallabak Nature Preserve) up to his family’s cottage.
Touring the countryside was my highlight of the trip. Not only for the incredible scenery, but also for becoming a little more familiar with the locals.
As much as I enjoyed Reykjavík, I loved the countryside that offered a chance to acquaint ourselves with the Icelandic people, who were some of the friendliest I’ve met—despite the ferocity of their weather.