Home

10%

Forged and Frozen

A Summer Saga from the Land of Ice and Fire

By Jamie Martin

August 27^th, 2024

An Early Start

We touched down early Friday morning at Keflavik airport, outside of Reykjavik. It was barely 7am but the sun had been up for hours. Cloudy and 49F in the middle of summer...and me in shorts. Shaking off the cobwebs of a long flight, we ditched our usual routine—zombies wading through a new city in old clothes awaiting hotel check-in—and hopped into a white Dacia Duster 4x4, crawling on gravelly black roads towards Selfoss and the Southern coast.

Our first stop: the Blue Lagoon, Iceland's most Instagrammed subject that isn't a waterfall. A man-made hot spring fed by runoff from a nearby geothermal power plant, the lagoon oozes with a viscous milky-blue water rich in silica that we were warned would eat through our jewelry, destroy our watches, and rejuvenate our pores. Slipping into steamed milk, we joined scores of tourists in mud masks holding an iPhone in one hand and a Aperol spritz in the other.

Selfoss to Seljalandsfoss

After a refreshing soak, we hit the road. Not a hint of jet lag or sleep deprivation remained. We drove south down Hwy 1, Iceland's Ring Road that circumnavigates the island. An army of basalt boulders, green with lichen, marched in endless columns towards the horizon. A band of wild horses sprinted alongside us, caramel brown with blonde manes, their speed nearly matching our own. Geothermal vents dotted the landscape, thick white plumes fuming into the sky like a locomotive chuffing uphill.

An hour later, we arrived in Selfoss, a charming town on the Ölfusá river. Foss means waterfall, we read in a guide. They pop up like every thirty feet in Iceland: Gulfoss, Skógafoss, Kirkjufellsfoss, Dettifoss...but we couldn't find a single one in Selfoss.

"It's Selfoss. Maybe it's a riddle: the waterfall is within us," I suggested to my wife. She said I needed sleep. We compromised and drove a little farther to Seljalandsfoss, a 200-foot sheet of water with a muddy path leading behind the falls.

Iceland rewards those who go a little further down the path, and peer around the bend. If we'd hiked another half kilometer, we would have stumbled into the far-less visited Gljufrabui falls.

Instead, we motored a few miles down the road to the Landeyjahöfn port where we were first in line for the car ferry to Vestmannaeyjabær and the Westman Islands.

Vestmannaeyjabær

Four miles off the south coast of Iceland sits Heimaey, the largest island in the Vestmannaeyjar archipelago. The island's 5,000 residents are far outnumbered by eight million puffins, who migrate here every summer to breed. In August, as the young puffins take their first flights, residents collect any confused "pufflings" attracted by city lights and release them on the beach the next morning. Beluga whales find sanctuary here, too, along with millions of gannets and gulls.

After a short crossing, we rolled off the ferry and into the main town, Vestmannaeyjabær.

Named for the Gaels ("westmen") enslaved by Nordic vikings, Vestmannaeyjar is geologically young. The Westman Islands were birthed by volcanos just 12,000 years ago. One island, Surtsey, emerged as recently as 1963.

In 1973, the eruption of the Eldfell volcano forced a complete evacuation of Heimaey. Much of the town was destroyed before the lava flow was halted by the application of 7 billion liters of cold sea water.

Some 13 hours after we landed, we enjoyed our first sit-down meal at Slippurin, where we ate cod wings, fish soup, halibut, and sole. We passed on the grilled guillemot, a local seabird.

We woke up Saturday morning, grabbed a quick breakfast at a cozy bakery, and pointed our Duster up winding curves to the bluffs where the puffins gather, high above the southern shore.

Below the bluff, black sand beaches stretched out between green fields and blue skies.

We didn't see a single puffin, but we did stumble into this golf course nestled in a volcanic caldera.

Rocks

Iceland's bedrock consists almost entirely of basalt and lava rock. Only 2% of the country is forested, making timber extremely rare. Until the late 19th century, construction relied on turf and boulders, rather than carpentry or masonry. Today, few ancient structures remain, and they are typically just rocky outlines of a wall or room.

Iceland was formed about 20 million years ago from volcanic activity—long after the dinosaurs became extinct. The first inhabitants were Norsemen who arrived in the 8th century CE. The isolated island has few native mammals, and fewer predators. The Arctic Fox is the only native land mammal.

We left on the Saturday afternoon ferry and drove north towards Geysir and Gulfoss. I wish we could have stayed and watched the sunset on this blue sky day, but the ferry left at 4pm and the sun set after 10.

The Golden Circle

For the next two nights, we traded a roof over our head for a plastic bubble. Sleeping in a transparent orb in the middle of a forest, I wasn't sure if we'd see the aurora borealis or a hungry predator. Would we wake up to green curtains of light dancing along the Milky Way? Or a bear sniffing our zippered tent?

It never got dark enough to see the stars, and it turns out Iceland doesn't have wolves or bears, so our encounters with nature were limited to birds...but we were in an ideal location for visiting some of Iceland's most beautiful landmarks, starting with the majestic Gullfoss.

Gullfoss

Spilling over three giant steps, the Hvítá river drops 5,000 cu ft of water per second over Gullfoss in the summer. During floods, it can be more than ten times that, making it the most dangerous river in Iceland. We were fortunate to see it just as the clouds pushed away and the sun approached its golden hour.

Brúarfoss

A 20-minute drive south we found the ice-blue waters of Brúarfoss. Its color is the result of glacial meltwater and mineral deposits ("glacial flour") that refract light.

Geysir

Formed around 1150 CE, the Great Geysir (the source of the English word geyser) can hurl boiling water up to 200 feet into the air, but this is rare, as the geyser is often dormant for years between eruptions. Nearby, the Strokkur geyser erupts predictably every few minutes, attracting throngs of shutterbugs eager to catch its spectacular show.

We left for Reykjavik Monday morning, via Thingvellir National Park.

Thingvellir National Park

From 930 CE til its last session in 1798, Þingvellir was the site of Iceland's Althing, a general assembly where the country's leaders met to draft legislation and dispense justice. All free men could attend the assembly, which was the main social event of the year, drawing large crowds of farmers, traders, and craftsmen. While it moved to Reykjavik, it is one of the longest-standing parliaments in history.

Thingvellir straddles the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates are slowly pulling apart at about an inch a year. Visitors can walk along the Almannagjá gorge, where the continental rift is marked by deep fissures and gorges. Silfra, a water-filled crack, is a popular snorkeling attraction where divers can swim between the two continents.

Snæfellsnes Peninsula

North of Reykjavik lies the Snæfellsnes. With 56 miles of rugged coastlines, black sand beaches, and fishing villages, the peninsula is dominated by the Snæfellsjökull, a glacier-capped stratovolcano rising 4,744 feet above sea level that also served as the setting for Jules Verne's "Journey to the Center of the Earth."

Kirkjufell

One of Iceland's most photographed landmarks, Kirkjufell ("Church Mountain") rises 1,519 feet above the nearby town of Grundarfjörður.

Most of Iceland's landmarks are off limits to drones.

Hot Springs

Sky Lagoon

Just a ten-minute drive from downtown Reykjavík, Sky Lagoon is a new geothermal spa situated in Kársnes Harbour, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. On a grey misty morning, we descended the steps from the changing rooms into a steamy black pool. Floating along a lazy river flanked by boulders that rose far above our heads, we bobbed and snaked around to the main lagoon that stretched half a football field from a swim-up bar on one end to a waterfall on the other. Ahead, the black waters of spa and ocean merged. As we swam towards the infinity edge, cold rain stung our cheeks as steam whipped across the surface of the hot pool.

After an hour of this bliss, we began the Sky Lagoon's seven-step Ritual. Dunking into an ice-cold plunge pool, I disguised my discomfort and told newcomers "It's not that bad!" It was. In less than two minutes, I couldn't feel my legs. We proceeded inside to the sauna, where two dozen guests sat silently, dripping and staring at the sea that churned beyond a huge glass window that spanned the room from floor to ceiling. The air was so hot and dry that I thought a match was burning under my nostrils. The next steps were a welcome reprieve: a cold fog mist, followed by a sea-salt body scrub then a steam bath. Finally, a cold rinse and back to the lagoon with a Chardonnay.

The Secret Lagoon

Established in 1891, the Secret Lagoon (Gamla Laugin), is one of Iceland's oldest and most authentic geothermal pools. Located in the small village of Flúðir in the Golden Circle area, it served as a community bathing spot for locals until more modern facilities were built. The lagoon is surrounded by steam vents, lush greenery, and bubbling hot springs, which heat the pool at a consistently warm temperature of 100-104°F year-round.

Exploring Reykjavik

After three days exploring the Southern coast and Golden Circle, we headed into Reykjavik, Iceland's capital. Our hotel was in the middle of the old downtown, a pedestrian-friendly district filled with restaurants, bars, and shops.

Harpa Concert Hall

Opened in 2011, Harpa’s architecture is inspired by Iceland's basalt landscape. The building’s facade is made up of a honeycomb-like structure of glass and steel, with geometric shapes that reflect and refract light. The glass panels are colored and angled in a way that creates a kaleidoscope effect, changing with the light and the seasons.

Hallgrímskirkja

They say Hallgrímskirkja's design was inspired by basalt lava flows, but I think it's clear that a 12-year old boy who liked rocket ships was responsible. Construction began in 1945 and was completed in 1986. At 244 feet tall, Hallgrímskirkja is one of the tallest buildings in Iceland. The interior is austere, lacking paintings or stained glass, reflecting Lutheran architectural traditions.

Fjord to Table

When we were planning this trip, a foodie friend advised me to lower my culinary expectations: "You don't go to Iceland for the food, Jamie. Outside Reykjavik, it's mostly hot dogs." I was committed to proving him wrong.

In the land of ice and snow, how does anything grow? Iceland is a volcanic island mostly comprised of lava rock with a thin layer of lichen, inhospitable to agriculture. For centuries, the Icelandic diet consisted of fish and lamb, with some grains, berries, and potatoes grown in the Southeast's lowlands. That changed in the mid-twentieth century as greenhouses sprang up across the country. Using geothermal energy and clean water, they produce a cornucopia of vegetables year-round in automated hydroponic systems.

Reykjavik

In Reykjavik, we found no shortage of haute cuisine and international flavors within a five minute walk. From upscale Lebanese at Sumac and fresh mex at La Poblana, to nouvelle Nordic tastes at Matur og Drakkur. On the waterfront at TIDES, we enjoyed lobster roll and roasted halibut with white burgundy and burrata.