Getting to Reykjavik

We arrived in Iceland on a short Iceland Air flight from Dulles. Iceland Air is wonderful, but the day after a red-eye left my wife dragging. We saw the sun rise as we landed.

 
We grabbed our rental car from Go Iceland car rentals (which took 2 hours....)  and we were on our way to first grab a local SIM card (Síminn had great service). The plan had been to see most of the museums and sites around Reykjavik, but the sleepies are real. Still, we ate a skimpy subway sandwich, saw a viking longhouse museum (Landnámssýningin/The Settlement Exhibition), and had a relaxing soak at Sundhöllin pool. A quick trip to icelandic supermarket Bonus, and we were on our way (try skyr, a delicious yogurt).

Finally we crossed under the HWY 1 tunnel underneath Hvalfjörður Fjord and we were in Akranes for the evening. 

Geysir

This is the original geyser - the word geysir is an old norse verb 'to gush'. Unfortunately, the original geyser has become nearly inactive, however its sister geyser 'Strokkur' blows a 40 meter column of water every 5-10 minutes.

Gullfoss Waterfall

Gullfoss is an enormoss waterfall pushing 5,000 cubic feet of water each second over its edge! It covers everything is a heavy mist that produces full-time rainbows.

Although technically done with the 'Golden Circle', we extended our evening with a hike to a warm river fed by naturally-occurring hot springs. Reykjadalur Hot Spring Thermal River is probably about 6 miles round-trip, but worth the hike!

We finished the day at Riverside GuestHouse in Hella, a good kickoff point for a counter-clockwise trip around the country on the ring road.

Seljalandsfoss Waterfall

We stopped by Seljalandsfoss, a tall waterfall framed by basalt columns. For an interesting viewpoint you can walk behind it. This waterfall gets a lot of visitor, but many overlook the short slot canyon Gljufrabui next door with a misty waterfall of its own.

Iceland (especially the south coast) is covered with waterfalls, but Skógafoss in particular is worth the stop. This waterfall is huge and seems to get bigger as you get closer. See the beautiful curtain of water!

In the past, Iceland was very poor and populated by subsistence farmers tending sheep. It was also very short on wood. This led farmers to build out entryways using stone on the front of naturally occurring cave and rock outcroppings. This type of structure served as a barn.

Sólheimajökull Glacier

A short way from the highway is Sólheimajökull Glacier. This glacier is located in a silty valley, and is receding steadily at about 160 ft each year. When we visited, there were tour companies taking some tourists out on the glacier with protective gear. Without such gear, we stopped just short of the slick ice and climbing areas. 

Leaving the Eastfjords, we waved goodbye to yet more Icelandic sheep and continued north on the Ring Road.

After leaving the odd little museum and sheep-dotted hillsides behind, we began our fifth day heading deeper into the Eastern Fjords. The region feels quieter—narrower roads, higher mountains, and little towns tucked deep into the valleys. Our first stop was the beautiful town of Seyðisfjörður, reachable by a winding mountain road you may recognize from The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (yes, the same one from the longboarding scene). It’s just as dramatic in real life.

The town itself was settled by Norwegian fishermen in the 1800s, and it still looks the part—rows of colorful wooden houses clustered around a calm fjord. The most photographed spot is its small 19th-century blue church, with a bright rainbow-painted walkway leading right up to the front doors. It feels like a movie set.

We wandered along the harbor where a group of local kids suddenly launched into the frigid water and began scrubbing themselves down like it was the most normal thing in the world. A cruise ship was pulling in at the same moment, and for a minute it looked like the kids were racing it. They won.

A Wilderness Center and a Waterfall of Columns

Heading west, we made a brief stop at the Vatnajökull National Park Wilderness Center. The exhibits are surprisingly good—hands-on displays about Iceland’s geology, wildlife, and early settlements. They even had a stuffed reindeer and fox, and yes, their antlers were velvety-soft. This is a perfect stop for kids, or adults who turn into kids when handed interactive buttons to push.

From there we continued on to a waterfall framed by tall basalt columns (Iceland’s unofficial building material). The canyon funnels the sound of the falls upward, making the whole place echo as if you’re inside a cathedral.

Evening Rowboat Adventures in Egilsstaðir

We ended the day in the quiet lakeside town of Egilsstaðir, where our hostel surprised us with access to their small private rowboat. We couldn’t resist—after a dinner consisting of Icelandic “Frosted Flakes” that were not frosted and cheese so good it didn’t matter, we headed to the water.

The lake was glassy and still. We drifted in circles until my bargain-bin sandals began to disintegrate, causing me to walk back to shore in a manner best described as “limping flamingo.” Still worth it.

NORTHEAST ICELAND

We woke on day six ready to loop around the farthest reaches of Iceland’s north. Our first stop was a small, white-washed church on the coastline—built in 1845, making it the oldest church in the eastern region. Simple, peaceful, windswept.

The Arctic Henge

Next was one of the strangest man-made structures in Iceland: the Arctic Henge, an enormous basalt monument started in 2004 and still under construction. The gates align with the four cardinal directions, designed to frame the Midnight Sun and the Northern Lights. Sitting atop a hill, it feels like a cross between Stonehenge and a giant sundial.

It’s also huge. I briefly pretended to be a polar bear here. Standard behavior.

To the Edge of the Arctic Circle

From there we drove out along a narrow peninsula toward the northernmost lighthouse in Iceland. The road ends at the very edge of the Arctic Circle, where the lighthouse stands alone against crashing waves and endless gray-blue ocean.

There’s also a Viking burial mound here—legend says a warrior named Þorgeir was beheaded after defeating fourteen opponents in battle. A lovely place for a picnic.

We climbed the rocks, touched the Arctic Ocean (“just to say we did”), and tried not to get blown off the cliffs by the wind. The views were some of the most dramatic of the trip—just sea, sky, and a sense of being very, very far from anything else.

On the drive back we spotted a waterfall spilling straight into the ocean—one of my favorites of the entire trip. Iceland doesn’t hide its best features; it just leaves them sitting casually by the roadside.

A Giant Crater and Icelandic Folklore

Continuing west, we visited a lesser-known but incredibly spooky section of a national park. The site features a massive horseshoe-shaped crater enclosed by tall canyon walls. Geologists believe it formed from glacial runoff after the last Ice Age, but Icelandic folklore offers a more imaginative explanation: this crater is the hoofprint of Odin’s eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, stamped into the earth during a godly gallop across the sky.

Either way, it’s huge.

Húsavík and the North Coast

Our final major stop before heading inland was Húsavík, one of Iceland’s oldest settlements (870 AD) and today the whale-watching capital of the country. Nearly every tour sees whales—blue whales, orcas, belugas on rare occasions—but humpback whales are the stars of the show.

The town was bright and sunny when we arrived. I even managed to get lightly sunburned in Iceland, which feels like a badge of honor.

After loading up on pastries and sheep’s cheese, we continued toward Akureyri, the unofficial “Capital of the North,” where we’d rest up before continuing our Ring Road adventure.

We kicked off the next morning by exploring Akureyri, Iceland’s second-largest city — though “city” is a generous term when the local traffic jam consists of two cars and a sheep. Once a station for Allied troops during World War II, Akureyri has since grown into a charming northern hub of culture, gardens, and excellent pastries. In fact, the very first thing we did was stop for muffins. They were called muffins, though Brittany insisted on renaming them “muffenses,” which apparently is Old Norse for please hand me another one.

Our first official stop was the Akureyri Botanical Garden, founded in 1910 by a group of local women who persuaded the city to hand over a patch of land bigger than eight football fields. Today the gardens feature over 7,000 species of plants — many from Arctic and high-mountain environments, and others that have no business surviving at this latitude but seem determined to thrive anyway. The whole place was peaceful and beautiful, and I was just beginning to appreciate the horticultural wonder of it all when Brittany’s allergies detonated. One minute she was admiring the flowers; the next she was sneezing like a Viking with hay-fever charging into battle. It made for great photos.

From the gardens we stopped by a small church — charming, serene, and tragically defaced by someone who had decided the most appropriate canvas for their graffiti was a place of worship. Iceland has so much natural rock; one wonders why they didn’t simply write on that instead.

Next we visited the Herring Era Museum, which chronicles the industry that once kept Iceland afloat during some of its most difficult economic periods. The exhibits included old fishing dormitories, generators the size of a small truck, and every kind of herring-processing machine imaginable. It was fascinating seeing how the fishermen lived, worked, brined, salted, packaged, and powered entire towns around these tiny silver fish. Then we wandered into a separate building dedicated solely to boats and vessels — because if there’s one thing Icelanders love more than fish, it’s the machines that help catch them.

We left Siglufjörður and began the dizzying drive through Iceland’s one-lane tunnels — narrow, dark, and definitely designed before cars got wider. Driving through them is a leap of faith, especially when the oncoming car looks as though it’s being piloted by a person who missed the memo that only one vehicle fits at a time. Somehow, everyone squeezes through without incident, which must be Icelandic magic.

The day’s highlight was a surprise horseback-riding tour I booked for Brittany after our first attempt fell through. Icelandic horses — which are smaller, stronger, and infinitely more adorable than regular horses — have been bred in isolation for over a thousand years. They also have extra gaits, which they use to remind you that they are superior to all other horses. Brittany looked appropriately Viking-like atop her noble steed. I, meanwhile, wore shorts, causing the guide to look at me with the same expression one might give a tourist who tries to pet a geyser.

Christian (my horse) gave everything he had — sweating, puffing, and neighing the entire time. I felt mildly guilty, but he seemed to accept me as part of the herd by the end.

After saying farewell to our equine companions, we ended the afternoon at one of my favorite swimming pools in all of Iceland — the oceanside pool at Hofsós. The edge of the pool visually blends into the Arctic waters below, creating the illusion that you’re about to swim straight into the North Atlantic. The air was cold, the water was warm, and the view was unforgettable. If Iceland had no other attractions, this pool alone would still justify the flight.

And of course, in true Icelandic fashion, you finish your swim with ice cream — because nothing pairs better with a warm soak than eating something frozen in a windy fjord.

Day 8 — Vikings, Sharks, Golden Beaches, and a Volcano You Can Walk Into

We started the eighth day at a reconstruction of Erik the Red’s longhouse — the very place where Leif Erikson (yes, the Leif Erikson) was born. The turf-roofed hall, dimly lit and smelling faintly of wood and history, felt like stepping through a portal 1,000 years backward. Outside, the landscape looked almost extraterrestrial — muted colors, volcanic earth, and mountains shaped like broken teeth.

From Viking history we jumped straight to shark biology at the Bjarnarhöfn Shark Museum. Greenland sharks live in deep, freezing waters, can grow longer than a school bus, and have metabolisms so slow that they practically consider movement optional. They also live up to 500 years, which means some sharks alive today were born around the time Shakespeare was writing Hamlet.

Their meat is toxic unless buried, fermented, hung, dried, and otherwise tortured for months — after which it becomes technically edible, though “edible” might be generous. We sampled a cube of hákarl (fermented shark). It smelled like a mixture of ammonia and household cleaner. Brittany described the taste as “no,” and that about sums it up. Still, we tried it — because when else will you eat something that tastes like a Viking prank?

Next we visited Kirkjufell, the famous arrow-shaped mountain featured in countless photos that make Iceland look like a fantasy movie set. Approaching it from the north, I was surprised to discover it isn’t a perfect cone after all — more like a very artistic traffic cone that weather has been sculpting for millennia.

We stopped at a golden-sand beach — unusual in Iceland, where most beaches are made of volcanic black sand. The sunlight made the shoreline sparkle, though Brittany insisted it looked like normal sand “with commitment issues.” Nearby, in 1962, archaeologists discovered a Viking grave containing the remains of a young man buried with his sword and shield — so even the beach has a backstory.

From there, we climbed into the crater of a 4,000-year-old cinder cone volcano. It was quiet, barren, and surreal to stand in a place that once spewed molten rock capable of erasing anything within reach. Thankfully, on this particular day, it remained politely dormant.

We ended the afternoon at a lighthouse with sweeping views of the coastline before driving the long road back to Akureyri — completing our full circle around Iceland.

Day 9 — One Last Sunrise, One Last Drive, One Last Laugh

On our final morning, we packed up in Akureyri and made our last leisurely drive through Reykjavík before heading to the airport. Brittany declared she was faster than me because she was “a gladiator,” which may not be scientifically accurate, but I didn’t challenge it.

Iceland is a magical, beautiful, unforgettable place — but for us, it was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. If we returned, I’d want to be rich so we could eat better food, revisit the cities we barely had time to explore, and savor more long summer evenings when “night” is just a slightly dimmer shade of daylight.

Even with almost 24 hours of sun, Iceland still didn’t give us enough hours in the day.

But what a trip.