We are back At Sea and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around all that I saw, smelled, heard, felt, and experienced over the past four days. They were nothing less than utterly spectacular. I’m still in awe of – and especially mopey to have left – the incredible island of Iceland.
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| OMG! ICELAND! |
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| See what I mean?!? |
I can’t remember when Iceland first blipped on my Travel Radar. It was at least 20 years ago. Definitely before it was trendy and the island nation built in lots of tourism infrastructure. I remember McDonald’s was still in Reykjavik (now replaced by the oddly popular Kentucky Fried Chicken), which was a huge comfort since all the other food offerings suggested by turn-of-the-century guide books were various stages of raw-cooked-or-fermented fish. Blech.
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| I have had this now woefully outdated magazine on my nightstand for 11 YEARS. I think I can finally part with it. |
Rob and I considered various ways to explore Iceland, encouraged
by its proliferation of English-speakers and cars that drive on the right side
of the road. But when we discovered our favorite cruise line offers a transatlantic
crossing (Rob Bucket List Item) that travels through Iceland (Toni Bucket List
Item) and ends in a port super accessible to a Shared Bucket List Item (stay
tuned!), we excitedly booked the ocean cruise and waited 9 long months.
Nine months and 20 years. Iceland, you were worth the wait.
Oh. My. God.
We made four stops, circling the island clockwise starting at Reykjavik [ray-key-yah-vick] in the southwest (at about 8 o'clock on an old timey clock face). We then cruised to a tiny fishing village called Isafjordur [ee-sah-fee-your-durr] at the end of a fjord in the northwestern appendage that looks like a piece of ginger root (at about 11 o’clock on the clock face). Next was a comparatively bustling, sunny burb at the far northern tip of the clock (high noon) called Akureyri [sounds like “actuary” without the “t”]. Yesterday, our cruise ship tripled the population of Seydisfjordur [say-dees-fee-your-durr] at about 2:30 on the clock face, where we trekked into the highlands and saw countless waterfalls and almost as many sheep (truly, there are far too many of either to count).
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| A bit fuzzy but you get the gist. |
Each stop was unique and provided a distinct experience, feel,
and memory. At each stop, Rob and I frequently reminded each other “We’re in
ICELAND!” because it was surreal and the excitement-fueled adrenaline rush had the potential
of preventing us from being present in the amazing moments that just kept
unfolding.
Each day, I fell in love with Iceland a little bit more. Earth is alive in Iceland. It is breathing and sighing and weeping and exploding and moving. The terrain is unique yet oddly familiar. At times I was reminded of the volcanic lava flows of Hawaii, the immense mountains of the Canadian Rockies, the glacier-carved fjords of Alaska, the flat plains of eastern Oregon, the geysers of Yellowstone, and images I have seen of the moon’s landscape. But to have all of these familiarities in one place was mind-blowing.
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| This landscape in the northern part of the island reminded me a lot of the Big Island of Hawaii |
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| The Canadian Rockies might have the biggest mountains I've ever seen -- but Iceland is super close. |
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| The fjords reminded me a lot of Alaska (This is Seydisfjordur) |
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| Just outside of Isafjordur in a town called Sudavik |
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| This area outside of Reykjavik reminded me a lot of eastern Oregon and southwestern Idaho |
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| This area outside Reykjavik looked a lot like Yellowstone. It was the site of Geysir -- a now dormant geyser that is the origin of the word we call water exploding out of the earth. |
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| This geyser -- called Strokkur -- is decidedly NOT dormant. It erupts every 3-8 minutes. |
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| This is near Myvatn in the northern region of the island where the island is splitting apart. It looked like the moon or Mars. |
Two tectonic plates meet and are pulling away from each
other along a somewhat middle longitude in Iceland – and doing so in a fashion
that is visible from our Earth’s surface. To be able to walk – and then later bathe
– in the gap between the North American and Eurasian plates was (and remains)
utterly incomprehensible. (Incredibly Fun Fact: this is the only place on Earth where you can stand between two tectonic plates.)
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| The photo was taken on the North American plate, looking east to the Eurasian plate. |
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| WALKING IN A FISSURE!! |
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| Taken from the area between the plates in Thingvellir National Park. Having both grown up in California, we were much more fascinated than freaked out by the possibility of having the earth move under us. Somewhat sadly, it did not. |
The population of the entire country is less than 400,000, about 60% of which live in the capital city of Reykjavik. Most of the remaining 40% lives in coastal towns around the island’s perimeter. The middle portion of Iceland is rugged, desolate, volcanic, and largely inaccessible – especially in the winter.
Most Icelanders speak English because, as Tour Guide Marta explained, hardly anyone speaks Icelandic so to survive, the nation needs to be bilingual. Icelandic sounds like a fast and fluid combination of Germany, Russian, and something from Scandinavia – lots of hard consonants. I noticed that English-speakers with an Icelandic accent tended to soften our consonants and particularly liked to turn most “s”es into “sh.” English sounds softer and slurrier when spoken by an Icelander.
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| Young Highland Icelander. He apologized for the weather - it had been sunny for 10 days straight. |
There was not a huge variety of wildlife to gaze at through tour bus windows, but what was visible was absolutely adorable. Icelandic Horses are a unique purebred that Iceland works very hard to preserve. They are occasionally exported, but once the horses leave the island, they are never allowed to return for fear of bringing back some undesirable foreign bug or otherwise Worldly Horse Trait. Originally brought to the island by Norwegians, Icelandic horses are short, stocky, stout, can walk in 5 different ways (apparently that’s a big deal?), and they have adorable tufts of hair on their heads that reminded me of Ernie’s coif from Sesame Street. When their manes blow in the wind, Icelandic horses look like shampoo models. They are larger than ponies but not by much. Apparently, locals are rather irked when foreigners from Big Horse Countries besmirch the stately Icelandic horses by using the P Word.
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| Sadly no wind, but trust me, their manes are majestic! |
One on excursion, I visited an Arctic Fox Rescue and Education center. I got to meet two foxes – Misty and Storm. They were small, thin, fast, and terribly cute. Not much bigger than a sizeable housecat, the Arctic foxes are the only mammals indigenous to Iceland. They looked super duper soft (Misty and Storm were too quick to pet, and display pelts were pelted with “DO NOT TOUCH” signs – BOO!). Their hides were probably the source of the copious fur coats/hats/mufflers I saw in the shmancier souvenir shops. Given that we were visiting a local non-profit dedicated to supporting the Arctic fox population, I was quite surprised to learn the fluffy foxes are actually considered quite a nuisance. In fact, locals are encouraged to hunt them, and they are officially considered a species “of Least Concern” which sounds like an insult to me. Although small, the foxes can pretty easily take down sheep by attacking their ankles and faces. Since sheep are a HUGE part of Iceland’s farming and culture, the Arctic foxes are considered annoying and dangerous. Not surprisingly, the Rescue and Education non-profit is primarily funded by bleeding-heart foreigners.
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| Misty is the white one. She is pure white during the winter. Her coat is in the process of changing to brown for the summer. Storm's coat is always brown. These two foxes were both about 2 years old. |
By far the most prolific wildlife we saw (other than Millennial hikers in small, rented campers) was sheep. SO MANY SHEEP! They were ADORABLE! Extra fluffy to survive the elements, the sheep lounged in fields and roamed pretty much anywhere they wanted to. We happened to hit Lambing Season, so there were hundreds of little baby lambs trotting along with mom, springing in the air with surprise as vehicles passed, and otherwise learning how to navigate Iceland. They were so new to the world, the little sheepies didn’t know what to make of loud tour busses rumbling by. I spent many gleeful minutes expectantly waiting for little lambies to lift their heads and curiously follow our bus as we passed by. They were so stinking cute! At one point Rob asked, “Did you really just wave at that sheep??” I couldn’t help myself! They were ADORABLE! And nearly impossible to get decent photos of.
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| Not a great photo, but the two little lambs in the center near the river are looking at me! |
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| There really is always a black sheep! |
As much as I was enthralled with the geography, terrain, and wildlife, I think what made me fall in love with Iceland were the people and pace of life. Iceland is a small place (about the size of Kentucky) with a small population. It also has harsh elements – avalanches and mudslides are as much a way of life as hurricanes are in Florida. And Iceland is not terribly accessible – neither to get to the island nor to the bazillion little fjords and accompanying towns that dot the coast line. You have to be hearty to live in Iceland…and you have to rely on your neighbors. The community spirit – even in the city of Reykjavik – was obvious and enticing. Tour guides spoke of local sports teams and music programs and winter festivals and meeting friends for a soak in a hot spring like we might meet at Starbucks. Also because Iceland doesn’t have a ton of outside influences, the pace of life felt slower, less busy, more present. Even though they do have internet in Iceland (I suspect Elon Musk might be an international hero), life felt quietly, peacefully pre-smartphone. It was heavenly.
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| Local who sang some traditional Icelandic songs for us in a tiny, historic church in a tiny town. |
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| Downtown Isafjordur |
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| Typical neighborhood |
Although I didn’t get to know any locals personally, I did
get to interact with Helga in Isafjordur in what turned out to be one of the
highlights of the trip AND unquestionably the best souvenir I could have lugged
back to Woodhaven.
Eavesdropping on a conversation amongst fellow passengers after
our stop in Isafjordur, I was struck by how attitude and perceptions so
thoroughly color our experiences. Two passengers were rather unimpressed by
Isafjordur, calling it a “throw-away port” and finding absolutely nothing redeeming
about the tiny fishing village in the West Fjords. The light rain, low cloud-cover,
near-freezing temperatures, and brisk wind that cooled your bones didn’t help. Yet
for me, it was one of my favorite stops and the weather made it even more so.
We were quite lucky to have great weather throughout our
Iceland trek. Yes, we had some waves and some light rain and some brisk cold,
but apparently a similar cruise just a few weeks ago had all its Iceland ports
cancelled due to much worse weather (eavesdropping is SO handy!). While I loved
and was grateful for clear skies several mornings so that we could see the
enormity of the mountains, I was so happy to have one day where the weather could
have been described as miserable. It felt more authentic and more representative
of what life in Iceland might be like.
Rob and I took separate tours that day, so after I was done supporting
the underappreciated Arctic foxes, I took some time to wander around Isafjordur
before heading back to the warmth of our ship. Although I had a town map, I
quickly decided the town was small enough and the ship large enough that I
could easily find my way – or find help – to get back to the ship. So I stuffed
my damp map in my backpack and meandered.
Lured by a cement pillar wearing a knitted blanket as a koozie,
I entered a small craft shop. It had sweaters, hats, scarves, mittens, and socks
– all handmade by local ladies using local wool from local sheep. It looked
like a church bazaar without the card tables.
Having spent a couple of hours eyeing Tour Guide Charlotte’s
Icelandic knitted sweater, I decided to try one on just to see if it was as comfy
as it looked. It was.
I tried on a few more, with some stilted help from the woman running the shop. I finally decided a maroon sweater complimented my silver hair better than a traditional grey one. Despite it not being the cheapest souvenir to remind me of Iceland, I concluded it would definitely be the most authentic and useable one.
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| THIS is the cheapest souvenir I bought. He lives on my purse's zipper. He makes me smile. |
Written on the price tag was the first name of the woman who
knitted my souvenir. As the shop’s owner wrote down some info in a spiral
notebook so the proper knitter could get the proper commission, I spontaneously
said, “Please tell the woman who knitted my sweater than I absolutely love it.”
The woman smiled with some surprise and said, “It was me. I
knit the sweater.”
A few more comments of appreciation and a demurred agreement for a photo later, I walked out of that tiny shop in that tiny fishing village on a tiny part of a pretty small island in the North Atlantic Ocean with an amazingly personal souvenir and indelible travel memory. THIS is why I love to travel.
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| Helga was the definition of lovely. |
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| Cozy and warm back on the ship. |
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| Not cute enough to buy to remove the watermark but it does show my sweater in fuller glory. |
Other highlights of Four Incredible Days in Iceland
Until not too many decades ago, young women in Iceland were
sent to Housekeeping Schools. These were schools dedicated to teaching young
women how to properly keep house. They learned sewing, cooking, cleaning, home
management, basic repairs, etc. Nowadays, the school still exist but boys are
encouraged to attend also. To be honest, I wish I could sign up. Rob probably
agrees.
The longer I saw the landscape of Iceland, the more beautiful it came. Because summer just started – with some areas only recently thawing out from the nearly never-setting sun – many areas are still a few weeks away from turning a more verdant green. For now, in early June, the colors were primarily light green grasses and moss with straw-yellow tufty clumps covering lava flows. The mountains were dark brown and spotted with white snow and glaciers. However, adding to the palette were thousands of purple lupine plants. Purple lupines are among my favorite wildflowers, so I was especially gleeful to see my new favorite country swathed in a favorite flower. I was all set to try to find a packet of seeds in a souvenir store and read up on customs rules about bringing wildflower seeds into the US so I could scatter them about Woodhaven. Then Olga the Tour Guide mentioned that the lupines were brought to Iceland years ago from a distant land since the climate was somewhat similar. Yep, I was gazing at the foreign-born Alaskan Lupine. I’m pretty sure that’s what we already have dotting a hill at Woodhaven. No need to smuggle in flower seeds after all.
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| All of that bluish tinge on the green banks is lupine |
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| It was everywhere and SO pretty. However, apparently not all locals agree since it spreads quite rapidly. |
The trees in Iceland are pretty short. There is the occasional tall pine-like tree, but for the most part what they call “trees” we would call “bushes.” Many houses that are “in the forest” are just one story tall with roofs that are easily seen amongst the trees. Apparently a common saying in Iceland is “If you get lost in an Iceland forest, just stand up.”
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| Yep, they call those trees. |
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| It was serene. And looked a lot colder than it really was. Having said that, I didn't linger outside the bus for long during our photo stop. |
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| Looking into the town of Egilsstadur which is quite large for the area - about 2000 people |
The waterfalls in Iceland are amazing – both in quantity and in the way they just appear out of nowhere. We visited two prominent waterfalls and saw thousands more randomly falling down mountain sides. It truly looked like the country was a dam busting at the seams. As prolific as they were, I never got tired of seeing them.
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| Gullfoss Falls nearish Reykjavik |
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| Godafoss Waterfall nearish Akureyri in the north |
The town of Akureyri reminded me a bit of Whistler, British Columbia. It felt like the launchpad for all sorts of outdoorsy adventures for young people with good knees and strong backs. It also expressed its welcoming personality and approach to life through its heartwarming stoplights.
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| Such a gorgeous morning! It was grey by the end of the day. |
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| Their stoplights are HEARTS! I've never heard tourists so unhappy to have stoplights turn green. |
When we planned our excursions, I was a bit concerned that I
was foregoing a leisurely dip in the iconic Blue Lagoon hot spring outside of
Reyjavik for a tour of the Golden Circle for all things geologic and tectonic. But
our cruise offered a similar hot spring excursion about 2 hours outside of Akureyri,
to a place called Myvatn (mee-vat). I’m not sure, but I think we chose really
well.
The geothermal hot springs at Myvatn are out in the middle of nowhere, which is to say they are heated by the earth because they are where the North America and Eurasian tectonic plates are pulling apart from each other (about 2 inches per year). The area around them looks like moonscape. In fact, Neil Armstrong and the other Lunar Landing astronauts trained in a location not far from Myvatn to try to get used to navigating around jaggedy rocks.
It was a beautiful day, which allowed us to soak in both the
scenery and the warm, minerally water. The water was the perfect temperature –
like bath water – although some areas of the pools were closer to hot water
vents than others. The water was full of minerals, so we were warned not to
wear metal jewelry, especially silver since it would turn black. The water was also
silky, without being slimy, although there were lots of mineral deposits on the
metal steps and handrails leading into the pools. The water was only about
waist-high and the floor was tiny lava rocks. A few were a little jaggedy but the occasional
foot pain reminded me that I was in a natural pool, not a man-made one. I
overheard women warning each other not to get their hair wet since the minerals
stripped away all the oils and left the texture straw-like and uncombable (have
I mentioned eavesdropping is handy?). This information didn’t impact me,
though, since I had already decided I did not need to find out what color the
minerals would turn my bright white hair.
We stayed in the hot springs for about 90 minutes. It was relaxing and otherworldly. I could have easily stayed all day there, popping in and out of the luxurious, blue-tinted water. And as an added bonus, my back pain eased up quite a bit and I didn’t mind the bus ride back to the ship. Luxurious indeed!
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| The water is naturally heated and naturally blue from the minerals. It was GORGEOUS! |
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| Rob is behind me to the right, against the wall, waving. It's the bravest I was willing to get with my phone near the water. |
Apparently at least half of the Icelandic population believes in the existence of trolls and elves. Given the culture’s Nordic roots, that shouldn’t be that surprising. And yet it is. Also, their Santa Claus isn’t our one jolly guy bearing gifts but instead a collection of guys that used to be sort of mischievous but have slowly taken on more fatherly and benevolent personalities. Winter in Iceland must be hard enough; why scare kids in the middle of it? We also saw the occasional gnome in souvenir stores, but creepy trolls definitely seem to be the folklore creature of choice.
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| We approached slowly for fear this was some sort of performance art. Gratefully, it was static creepiness. |
Being so far north in early June was challenging. As much as
I enjoy the sun, having it never really set for days on end was weird and
exhausting. Although our cabin has blackout curtains and we brought binder
clips to keep them closed, bright sunlight still crept into our room through crevices
around the curtains’ perimeter. I woke up often in the middle of the night and
it was never dark. Never. And since there was no darkness to signal to my body
that that day was ending, I was both exhausted and unable to sleep. I ended up
taking some sleep aids, but it was rather disheartening to undo all the
glorious sleep I caught up during our first half of the cruise.
At the other end of the sunlight spectrum is apparently winter. We were told a number of times that during the winter, Icelanders living in the deep fjords do not see the sun for months. Even on the occasional clear day before the depths of the winter solstice, the mountains are too tall and the sun too low for the glowing orb to ever make an appearance. One tour guide explained how most Icelanders take Vitamin D supplements and have artificial sunlight lamps to trick their bodies into getting some body-and-mind-craving rays. I laughed in commiseration – we do the same at Woodhaven!
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| Although we were in the Arctic Circle on our first-ever cruise (to Alaska), we flew there on an excursion. This was the first time we sailed so far north! |
Leaving Iceland was incredibly hard. I was very emotional as
we got closer to the time to return to our ship. We actually waited until the very
last “You are (barely) on time!” tender was leaving to finally step off Iceland
soil for the last time. The only reason I wasn’t crying was because I was in
public.
I remember some years ago, a friend of mine commented that
when she cruised across the Atlantic, she literally bent down and kissed the
Azores when she finally got back on land again. I felt an urge to do the same
as we were leaving Iceland, but for a different reason. I wanted to put my lips
to the earth in Seydisfjordur as a grateful goodbye. Instead, in quiet
thoughts, I gave thanks to all the circumstances in my life that allowed me the
honor of visiting such an extraordinary place and creation. In my thoughts, I
embraced Iceland – its people, its mountains, its waterfalls, its sheepies, its
horsies, its culture, its history, its welcoming, and its hospitality.
I have no idea what originally drew me to want to visit Iceland, but it now has a place in my heart all its own. Less than 24 hours later, I already ache to return.
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| Iceland, you have my heart. |
4 comments:
from Brenda P: what a delightful account of your Iceland trip. I wanna go😍
Wow this sounds wonderful. Putting it on our list
Thank you for this wonderful write-up of Iceland! The tourist beaureau should pay you. Enjoy the rest of the trip, looking forward to updates
Thank you so much for your comments! The biggest compliment I could get is that my words inspire you to consider a visit of your own. :-) Consider me a resource if you want info/advice/tips!
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