This is going to be a long one - so settle in with the popped corn and just let that imagination sore as I describe our incredible days in Iceland.
When Su booked a direct flight from Calgary to Iceland, I thought we were heading to Vancouver Island for a quick escape from our lives. As the flight attendant announced our destination over the intercom, my heart fluttered and my excitement exploded into a tiny squeal. Just over six hours in the air and suddenly we’d be landing in a land that looked nothing like home; a place where glaciers stretch endlessly, waterfalls pour from cliffs as if the earth itself is weeping, and black sand beaches meet roaring Atlantic waves.
We didn’t want to be tied to just hotels or schedules, so we rented an Airbnb. It felt like the right
choice. Not only was it more affordable, but it gave us a kitchen to prepare breakfasts and late-
night snacks, and a washer to make sure we wouldn’t fly home with wet, rain-soaked clothes.
Renting a car was the second-best decision we made. It gave us the freedom to re-write our own
itinerary, to stop when we felt like it, linger when a view stole our breath, and change plans when
the weather, or our hearts, told us to.
Of course, we quickly discovered the truth of what every traveller to Iceland says: it is not cheap.
Our first supermarket visit was a small shock, but filling the fridge with breakfast items and snacks
saved us time and money, and somehow even shopping felt like part of the adventure.
Day One: The Road to Vík
We pointed the car south toward Vík, and already the landscape had us speechless. Rolling fields
gave way to dramatic cliffs, moss-covered lava stretched to the horizon, and the road wound
through scenery that looked like it belonged to another planet.
At Dyrhólaey, we met the puffins. They are funny little creatures; bright-beaked, clumsy in flight,
impossibly endearing. Watching them waddle and swoop along the cliffs was pure joy. From there
we went to Reynisfjara, the black sand beach. It was hauntingly beautiful. The basalt columns
rose like some ancient temple, and the waves thundered with a power that reminded us how
small we are. We ended the evening in Vík, the town tucked against the sea, with our hearts
already full.
Day Two: Glaciers and Waterfalls
If our first day had been about introductions, the second was about awe. We started at the Yoda
Cave, its silhouette unmistakable, a whimsical stop that made us laugh. Then came the drive
across Eldhraun, a lava field blanketed in thick moss; soft, endless, otherworldly. It felt like
walking across a memory of fire that time had softened with green. Walking on the moss was
definitely not allowed but the softness of its texture was clear.
The hike to Svartifoss was something I’ll never forget. The waterfall is framed by dark basalt
columns, perfectly geometric, like nature had built its own cathedral. Standing there, the sound of
the water echoing in the valley, was deeply humbling.
And then came the jewels of the south: Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon, where icebergs floated like
sculptures, glowing with every shade of blue, and just across the road, Diamond Beach, where
shards of ice scattered the black sand, sparkling as if the shoreline had been sprinkled with
gems.
On the way back, we visited Skógafoss and Seljalandsfoss, two of Iceland’s most famous
waterfalls. At Seljalandsfoss, we walked behind the curtain of falling water, mist soaking our
clothes but leaving us laughing like children. Just nearby, we discovered a secret falls, tucked
away from the crowds, as if Iceland had shared a secret just with us.
That night, we collapsed into our Airbnb, tired in the best possible way.
The South and Its Volcanoes
The following day, we spent time touring more of the south, including a volcano. We were
supposed to be on a ferry to the Westman Islands, but the 8 am departure seemed impossible
since we weren’t even up by that time. We happily decided to change our plans and stay a bit
closer to town. The first stop was at Seltun Geothermal Area, also known as Krysuvik-Seltun
Geothermal Hot Springs, a major techtonic plate boundary. We explored the wooden walkways
and paths that led to various geothermal features that offered a unique sensory experience. We
then travelled to Fagradalsfjall Volcano and the cooled lava area. Standing near it, you could feel
Iceland’s restless spirit — the reminder that this island is alive, constantly reshaping itself. The air
smelled faintly of earth and fire, and I couldn’t shake the sense that we were standing on the
edge of something ancient and powerful.
Eventually, our base shifted to Reykjavík, and the contrast was beautiful. After days of wild landscapes, the capital felt warm and colourful with cozy cafés and streets filled with music and chatter. Yet even here, nature was never far away.
Reykjavík is one of those cities that defies expectations; small in size but brimming with character and charm. It’s as if every street corner, café, and art installation is telling a story. The city’s unique blend of modern design and traditional Icelandic culture creates an effortlessly cool vibe that feels both fresh and timeless. At first glance, Reykjavík may seem understated, but dig a little deeper, and you’ll discover a place full of quirky boutiques, hidden bars, and vibrant street art.
Walking through the city is an experience in itself. You’ll pass colorful houses with corrugated metal roofs, the iconic Hallgrímskirkja church looming majestically in the distance, and coffee shops that serve up some of the best brews I’ve ever had. The scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and strong coffee drifts through the crisp air, making it impossible to resist stepping inside and soaking in the cozy atmosphere. And don’t even get me started on the food scene—whether you’re indulging in fresh seafood at a local restaurant or grabbing a quick hot dog from Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur (an absolute must-try), there’s no shortage of delicious options.
But what really makes Reykjavík special is the energy. It’s a city that embraces both nature and creativity with equal passion. You can be sipping craft beer in a hip downtown pub and, within minutes, be surrounded by stunning landscapes and geothermal hot springs. It’s a city that invites you to slow down, appreciate the small moments, and take in the beauty that surrounds you at every turn. If you’re after a destination that’s equal parts laid-back and inspiring, Reykjavík is it.
The Golden Circle
We set out early the next morning for the Golden Circle, one of Iceland’s most famous routes.
The air was crisp, the skies a little overcast, and the chill carried a kind of freshness that made us
feel awake and alive. The drive itself was a pleasure — winding roads, mossy lava fields, and
endless stretches of countryside dotted with Icelandic horses grazing peacefully.
Our first stop was Þingvellir National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site where history and
geology collide. Standing there, we realized this was not just any park. It’s the birthplace of
Iceland’s first parliament, established over a thousand years ago, and it’s also where two massive
tectonic plates — the North American and Eurasian — meet. The rift valley stretches wide,
dramatic cliffs on either side showing how the earth continues to slowly pull apart. We took our
time walking the trails, marveling at the idea of standing between two continents. For those who
are adventurous, you can even snorkel or dive in the Silfra fissure, where the water is glacially
cold but so clear you can see down more than 100 meters. To swim between tectonic plates is
surreal — few places on earth allow you to literally float between worlds.
From there, we continued on to Strokkur geyser in the geothermal field of Haukadalur. We joined
a small crowd gathered around, eyes fixed on the steaming earth. Every few minutes, the ground
hissed and bubbled before Strokkur erupted, shooting boiling water high into the air. Each
eruption felt like nature showing off, unpredictable and thrilling. Around us, mud pots simmered,
and the air smelled faintly of sulfur — a reminder that Iceland is alive beneath the surface.
Next came Gullfoss, the “Golden Falls.” We could hear it before we saw it, the roar of water
echoing across the canyon. As we walked closer, the view opened up to reveal a double cascade
of thundering water plunging into a rugged gorge. Mist rose high into the air, catching the light
and creating fleeting rainbows. Standing there, wrapped in wind and spray, it was impossible not
to feel humbled by the sheer power of nature.
Before leaving the Golden Circle, we made one more stop at Kerið Crater, a volcanic caldera
about 55 meters deep. We climbed up to the rim and looked down at the vivid turquoise lake that
now fills its base. The red volcanic rock contrasted so sharply with the blue-green water that it felt
almost unreal, like a painting. Walking the rim gave us a 360-degree view of the surrounding
countryside, and we lingered there, imagining the eruption that formed it thousands of years ago.
The Snæfellsnes Peninsula Adventure
We dedicated a full day to exploring the Snæfellsnes Peninsula, often described as “Iceland in Miniature.” And it truly is — in one drive you can experience nearly every landscape Iceland is known for: glaciers, lava fields, beaches, mountains, and waterfalls. We set out early in the morning, the sky still a little heavy with clouds, and pointed our car northwest out of Reykjavík. Almost immediately, the scenery began to change. Rolling hills gave way to rugged coastlines, jagged cliffs, and open stretches where the sea met the sky in an endless horizon.
As we drove into the underwater tunnel heading toward the Snæfellsnes Peninsula, I couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy. The tunnel, which stretches beneath the cold waters of the ocean, creates this odd, almost claustrophobic sensation. The lights overhead flicker dimly, casting long shadows on the walls, and the sound of tires against concrete becomes the only thing you can focus on. I found myself checking the rearview mirror more often than usual, my mind racing with questions I didn’t really want answers to. There’s something inherently unsettling about being submerged like that, even though the tunnel is perfectly safe. But as the minutes ticked by and the end of the tunnel finally came into view, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being in an entirely different world.
Not long into the drive, we pulled over when we spotted a herd of Icelandic horses. They are
shorter than most horses, with strong builds and thick, windswept manes, but it’s their gentle
temperament that makes them unforgettable. They walked right up to the fence, curious and
calm, their velvety noses brushing our hands. We laughed like children, completely captivated. It
was one of those moments that felt timeless, as if we were connecting with the land through its
animals.
Continuing along, we reached Ytri-Tunga Beach, famous for its seals. The beach itself was unlike
the black volcanic sands we’d seen elsewhere — pale and golden, stretching wide under the gray
sky. We walked the shoreline, and sure enough, spotted seals lounging on the rocks, their sleek
bodies glistening as they slid into the water. It was such a serene scene, the only sounds were
the waves and the occasional cry of seabirds.
The peninsula was full of surprises. We stopped at Búðir, where a solitary black church
(Búðakirkja) stands starkly against the lava fields, a striking silhouette against the mountains.
From there, we drove to Arnarstapi, a tiny fishing village with dramatic coastal cliffs. The walking
trail along the cliffs took us past stone arches, crashing waves, and colonies of seabirds. The
wind whipped against our faces, and the raw energy of the Atlantic was unforgettable.
A short drive away, we found ourselves at Hellnar, another charming village, and then continued
to the black pebble beach of Djúpalónssandur. The beach was wild and moody, littered with the
rusted remains of a shipwreck — a reminder that these seas have never been gentle. We climbed
among the smooth lava rocks and listened to the waves thunder in.
Of course, waterfalls are never far away in Iceland. On the Snæfellsnes Peninsula, we stopped at
Bjarnarfoss, cascading down a cliffside in a graceful white ribbon, and later at Svöðufoss, framed
by hexagonal basalt columns much like Svartifoss in Vatnajökull. These weren’t the towering
giants like Gullfoss or Skógafoss, but they were intimate, tucked-away falls that made us feel like
explorers stumbling on hidden treasures.
As the day went on, we passed through Ólafsvík, Grundarfjörður, and Stykkishólmur — each
small town carrying its own unique rhythm. Brightly painted houses stood out against the muted
tones of sea and sky, fishing boats bobbed gently in the harbors, and the scent of salt lingered in
the air. These towns felt lived-in and authentic, offering us fleeting but precious glimpses into the
everyday life of Icelanders who have carved out their existence along these dramatic coasts.
Farther along, we came across a solitary lighthouse, its bold silhouette standing guard over the
rugged shoreline. It wasn’t decorative — it was purposeful, a beacon that had guided countless
sailors through Iceland’s unpredictable seas. Against the wild Atlantic winds, the lighthouse
seemed almost symbolic of the resilience of the people here: sturdy, steadfast, unshaken no
matter the storm.
Not long after, we reached the Saxhóll Crater, an impressive volcanic remnant rising out of the
surrounding lava fields. A staircase wound its way up the side, and we climbed to the rim. From
the top, the view stretched endlessly — black lava fields spilling out toward the horizon, snow-
capped mountains in the distance, and the ocean glittering under the shifting clouds. Looking
down into the crater’s hollow felt surreal, like staring into the very heart of Iceland’s volcanic past.
Standing there, with the Atlantic on one side and ancient fire-carved earth on the other, we were
reminded once again how this peninsula seems to contain the essence of all of Iceland within its
borders. And then came the star of the peninsula: Kirkjufell Mountain, affectionately nicknamed
the “Harry Potter Hat” for its whimsical, pointy shape. Rising up beside the town of
Grundarfjörður, with the twin cascades of Kirkjufellsfoss in the foreground, it was every bit as
magical as the postcards promised. We stood there for a long while, watching the light shift over
its slopes, half expecting wizards to come strolling by.
By the time we completed the loop and headed back toward Reykjavík, we were completely in
awe. The Snæfellsnes Peninsula had given us everything: the gentle kindness of horses, the
playfulness of seals, the roar of the Atlantic, the quiet dignity of waterfalls, the charm of small
fishing towns, and the sheer magic of Kirkjufell. It wasn’t just a drive, it was a story unfolding at
every turn, a day stitched together with landscapes so varied and beautiful that it felt like we had
travelled across an entire country in just a few hours.
The Sky Lagoon and Whales
As our trip began to wind down, we knew we wanted to give ourselves one last indulgence, one
last moment that would embody everything Iceland had been for us — wild, restorative, and
unforgettable. That’s how we found ourselves stepping into the Sky Lagoon Spa, ready for the
famed seven-step ritual.
If Iceland could be distilled into an experience, this would be it: fire and ice, hot and cold, comfort
and challenge. First, the warmth of the lagoon embraced us, the steaming water spilling over the
infinity edge into the Atlantic. Then came the cold plunge — a gasp, a squeal, and the kind of
shock that makes you question all your life choices before laughing uncontrollably. Rubbing sea
salt over our skin felt primal, like being polished clean by Iceland itself. Each step alternated
between relaxation and exhilaration until we emerged glowing, exhausted in the best possible
way. Sitting in the steaming pool afterward, overlooking the endless sea, I felt every muscle let
go. For the first time in days, we slowed down. No rushing from waterfall to crater, no layering
jackets against wind — just stillness, warmth, and the horizon with an Aperol spritz in hand.
That evening, we returned to our Airbnb with a kind of serene heaviness, like our bodies were
grateful but slightly confused by the sudden luxury. We did laundry, folded clothes, and began
packing, half laughing at how Iceland had left us with socks still damp from rain, and shoes filled
with more black sand than we care to admit. It felt bittersweet — as if by folding each shirt, we
were also folding up memories we weren’t quite ready to let go of.
But Iceland had one more surprise waiting. On our very last day, we boarded a boat for a whale-
watching cruise. The anticipation was electric; everyone on board craned their necks, scanning
the horizon, waiting for that first glimpse. And then it happened — a massive, glistening back
broke the surface, followed by a tail that arched with such elegance it made us gasp. The whales
were immense yet graceful, powerful yet peaceful, and each time one surfaced, the entire boat
erupted in awe. At one point, a puff of mist shot into the air, catching the sunlight like a rainbow,
and I thought, “Is this Iceland’s way of saying goodbye?”
It was impossible not to feel emotional. We laughed, we cheered, we whispered to each other like
children trying not to scare the whales away. In that moment, surrounded by strangers who felt
like friends simply because we were sharing this magic, I realized how Iceland doesn’t just show
you landscapes — it gives you experiences that move through your bones.
By the time we returned to shore, we were exhilarated, exhausted, and deeply grateful. The
whales had been a parting gift, a final reminder that this island is alive in every sense; its land, its
sea, its creatures, its people. Packing our bags that night no longer felt like an ending, but like a
promise to return.
Leaving Iceland
Fans of Game of Thrones will instantly recognize parts of Iceland’s wild landscapes, because so
many of the show’s most breathtaking scenes were filmed here. Standing among the glaciers,
volcanic valleys, and jagged mountains, it’s easy to see why Iceland was chosen to bring the
lands “Beyond the Wall” to life. From the icy expanses of Vatnajökull and Svínafellsjökull glaciers,
where Jon Snow and the Night’s Watch trekked through endless snow, to Þingvellir National Park,
where the path of the White Walkers was set, the settings felt almost too cinematic to be real.
Walking those same trails, we couldn’t help but imagine direwolves prowling or wildlings
emerging from the mist. Iceland doesn’t just look like Westeros. It makes you feel as if you’ve
stepped right into the story.
Boarding the plane home, I realized Iceland had given us more than just a trip. It had given us
perspective. In just a few days, we saw fire, ice and sunshine. We hiked through lava fields,
touched glaciers, chased waterfalls, witnessed crashing whales and watched puffins soar. We
had soaked in hot water while cold winds whipped around us. Iceland had shown us that the
world is wild and vast, and that beauty often comes from extremes colliding.
We left with hearts fuller than our suitcases, memories etched deeper than photographs could
capture, and a quiet promise to return one day. Because once Iceland captures you, it never truly
lets go.
NOTE:
Experiencing the midnight sun in Iceland for the first time is nothing short of magical. In June, the days stretch on endlessly, with the sun barely dipping below the horizon before rising again, giving you a surreal, almost dreamlike sense of time. I remember stepping outside at what should have been midnight, only to find the sky still glowing a soft, golden hue. It’s as if time itself gets suspended, and you’re caught in this beautiful, liminal moment between day and night. But a word of caution: while the constant light is captivating, it can make getting a good night's sleep tricky, especially if you're not used to it. Please note: If you’re planning to visit during June or anytime near the summer solstice, make sure your accommodation has blackout curtains. Without them, you might find yourself lying awake at 3 a.m. wondering if the sun ever actually sets. Trust me, it’s worth being prepared!
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