I couldn’t be cozier at this very moment. 

It’s 3:43am. I’ve been up for a while now. But still tucked in, under a heavy down duvet, in a comfy soft bed. Snug as a bug. The wind and snow has been whipping around outside since before we arrived at our accommodation for the night last night around 7:30. 

But I should start at the beginning right?

We left on the 1st of February, arrived bright and early on the 2nd. Flights were booked as a spur of the moment yolo whim on Boxing Day, my treat, sugar mama – travel edition. Our plane touched down in Reykyavik at 550am and we were through customs and had located the luggage before 630. That must be some sort of record. The car wasn’t ready to be picked up until 8, so we had sub airport breakfast, and fiddled around with maps until 730. In all honesty, the majority of yesterday morning was a bit of a blur. A blur of consciousness since I was regularly nodding  off while Thor was driving through the moonscape countryside. We started by heading east along the south coast of Iceland toward (what we thought) was our destination for the day, Vík. 

As the sun was rising, just before 10, being so far north, we arrived at the first stop, a waterfall by the name of Seljalandsfoss. Say it with me now. Which, to our amazement, had 3 massive tour busses parked in the lot/ as well as dozens of rental cars. Loads and loads of people. Probably hundreds. I was shookith. It’s February in Iceland, it’s harsh, it’s bloody cold, I thought we were getting off the beaten path. But it didn’t end there folks. Apparently we were on the tour circuit. The rest of our stops for the day were basically the same. Seljalandsfoss and Skógafoss were magnificent waterfalls, don’t get me wrong. But with throngs of people milling about, dropping garbage (single use hand warmers anyone?) and trying for the best selfie stick angle, it leaves a little something to be desired. 

Later in the day we crossed paths with a local woman who works for the parks and Thor asked her about the tourist season, and how surprised we were to see so many people here now, in the supposed “off season”. She informed him (with a smile) that they no longer have an off season, winter is high and summer is high. They’ve got shoulder seasons for spring and fall, that’s all. The slippery slopes of mass tourism. Now they can’t build hotels fast enough, and all the real estate is being bought up for use as vacation rentals. 

After Skogafoss we zipped past Vík. It was just after 11, and we were both feeling keen to accomplish more than we had originally planned. And it was too early to check in anyways. So we noted where the farmhouse was in relation to the church(es), and continued to the glacier lagoon. In hindsight, we could’ve called it a day and tried for an early check in. But we didn’t. So we were on our way. 

Just another 180kms, each way. This was originally part of my second day itinerary, but the skies were clear, and we were feeling up to it. 

We swung by Diamond Beach first. The weather was perfect, and in retrospect I’m glad we squeezed as much in on the first day as we did. The chunks of iceberg that had broken off in the lagoon, had floated down the short river, to be tossed around in the harsh waves of the North Atlantic, just enough to be polished up into beautiful sparkling crystal baby icebergs. It was probably hovering around -2, and the winds chilling you from the lungs out. So we didn’t linger too terribly long, but it was most certainly something unforgettable to witness. The stark contrast of sharp jagged ice, bright unforgiving sun and coarse volcanic sand.

Close by is Jökulsárlón; the glacier lagoon where the baby icebergs are made. It was quite calm in comparison to the crashing waves on the shores of diamond beach. A few of the large icebergs were calving in the lagoon. But other than that the waters were basically motionless.

The time change was beginning to catch up with us. By this point it was around 4pm, so we started back to Vík, hoping to get there before dark. That didn’t happen. The remainder of the journey back to the lodge was a mixture of nodding off, snow squalls, crazy drivers and flat flat highway driving. Sprinkle in a bit of falling asleep at the wheel – driving off the road into a snow bank on the shoulder – that’ll wake you up! Long story short, no one was hurt – don’t ya worry, the rental wasn’t even damaged, and we got to meet some nice locals that winched us back onto the road! They were rightfully confused when they asked where we were visiting from, and we said Canada, to which they responded with a look of confusion – Canadians can’t drive in snow? Alas, the road conditions were (at this point) impeccable, and it was our red-eye flight and overt enthusiasm that could’ve ended things badly. Luckily that all happened while it was still light out. Alas, as day turned to night a real storm started to set in. Pitch black, dry snow was sweeping over the road lines, and the hills surrounding Vík were getting icier by the minute.

Needless to say, when we finally got to where we would be staying for the night we both exhaled a massive sign of relief. We arrived at the farmhouse (at one point was a literal house for cows, a barn, if you will) until around 7, which was late enough for us. Check in was a breeze. They already knew who we were, and were expecting us – probably thinking we were dead or not coming. A youngish fellow greeted us, didn’t ask for any id, gave us a room key and told us about the tea/coffee/breakfast situation. They’ve got a ridiculously low crime rate obviously. We had a light dinner and hit the hay.

I had a terrible sleep. Well, I slept from 9pm-2am, so a solid 5 hours, then I had a terrible sleep. Unknowingly, I had left the bathroom window ajar after my shower, and that thing was howling like mad. There must’ve been gale force winds out there for the majority of the night. It hardly snowed though. So that was a plus, too dry. I slept hard from 7am-10am. Probably could’ve gone until 12. But we had things to do!

We had a lovely continental breakfast. I had 4(!) cups of tea, nice tea, very nice milk. A big bowl of muesli with lovely yogurt and warm stewed strawberries, a couple slices of delicious dense Icelandic rye with nice homemade rhubarb jam. I tend to judge countries on the quality of their dairy products, and Iceland got a raging pass. Thor had a traditional breakfast of cold cuts, pickled herring, cheese, toast, and an unsweetened pastry that had been fried the day before.  

With the taste of traditional Icelandic bread – rugbraud, still stuck to my mouth we headed out to explore around Vík before heading back west. Our first stop was a viewpoint that was just across the road. Well, in sight, but a mile away, since everything is so flat here. The sun was just rising, again, around 10, and there weren’t too many other tourists out, but they were coming. The wind was back, but I was bundled up pretty good. We spent the morning there and down at the beach below, Reynisfjara. Careful to not be swept away by the sneaky sneaker waves. We swung by a grocery store in Vík before heading out on the road again. Very high on my list of enjoyable things to do on vacation. Picked up a selection of skyr. Twas nice, thick, creamy, rich, not overly sweet, would eat again.

On our way back west Thor detoured to a glacier. To my surprise you could just walk around on your own and you didn’t, in fact, need to shell out and join a tour – with crampons and the such. The walking paths around the glacier weren’t actually slippery since there are so many people fluffing it up with their snazzy footwear, so that worked out well. 

A couple hours later, driving through blizzards and the such we were getting hungry again, and it was time for the local delicacy. Hot dog. For the record books, this is the second country we’ve visited claiming that hot dogs as their national dish. The “completos” of Chile were… not that amazing, SO much mayo. The “pylsu” of Iceland, pretty nice – for hot dogs. We’re not wiener people… really.  We stopped in Selfoss, at a small shop with a hilarious sign (that I’ll attach) called Pylsu Vagninn. I had the classic “with everything” which entails a sweet remoulade and crispy onion strips under the dog. Thor had a beautiful monstrosity with a hefty helping of seasoned fries smushed on top along with melty cheese. Looked beautiful. He didn’t share. 

We hit the road again, it was still daylight, but it wasn’t going to last. The roads had previously been painfully straight and flat, until after road dog stop. We started climbing switchbacks and gaining elevation. We passed a few car accidents, the roads were covered in ice and snow. The following day the entire highway would be closed due to hazardous conditions. We got into Keflavik safely, checked into our lovely little hotel Berg, got a free upgrade due to the length of our stay (we – I, decided to stay the remainder of our trip). The room was nicely appointed, nothing super amazing, but very comfortable. The heated rooftop pool was the real kicker, seldom occupied and kept toasty warm hovering around 40 degrees.

The rest of the trip was a haze of snowstorms, gale force winds, short road trips and doodling around Reykjavik. We soaked in the rooftop pool on the daily, sometimes twice. Found some darling horses to say hello to and drove through a really long tunnel. 

The one thing all tourists seem to ask other tourists is if they’ve been to the Blue Lagoon… yet. Cons: super duper expensive, super busy super touristy, completely destroyed my hair for two weeks until I used a conditioner mask. Pros: memories that will last a lifetime (?). I don’t even know. I would recommend it. I enjoyed myself, honestly. But I wouldn’t go back.  But I’m glad we went. Any of that make sense? I think you kind of have to do it. Do I regret not trying harder to access hot pools in the wilderness? Ya. Maybe I’ll have to go back when it’s not a blizzard and the highways are closed.