Destinations often fail to live up to visitors’ imaginations, especially when those visitors have, between them, explored 231 countries. My friend Pat and I aren’t easily impressed: The pressure was on Iceland, and its active volcanoes, geothermal plants and powerful geysers, to really wow us.
With its desolate landscape and Viking history, there are few countries as fabled as Iceland. The second-largest island in Europe, it straddles two continental plates, resulting in constant seismic activity and remarkable scenic beauty.
We arrive on the red-eye into the capital of Reykjavik, just in time to catch an Adventure Center tour bus departing to the southwest. Within minutes, the scenery turns into a wasteland of gnarled volcanic rock, covered in furry moss. The countryside is barren, flat and alien. When we stop to hike the rim of Eldborg, an extinct volcano, our bright teal bus resembles an extraterrestrial spaceship on the tundra below.
It is summer, but I am wearing four layers of clothing, barely keeping the Arctic wind at bay. At Gerduberg, the basalt rocks take the shape of hard-edged symmetrical columns, topped with perfect hexagons, formed by lava rapidly cooling on contact with air. It’s easy to see why Icelandic folk tradition is rich with elves, trolls, giants and fairies. The landscape inspires superstition, and the belief that powerful forces are at work beyond our control.
Known as one of the major energy hot spots on the globe, the Snaefellsjökull volcano overlooks a spectacular peninsula. Jules Verne set his classic A Journey to the Centre of the Earth inside Snaefellsjökull, but we find ourselves inspired by the Snaefellsnes coastline, where ocean waves crash against volcanic rock, creating outcrops, blowholes, bays and beaches. It’s new to me, but Pat says it reminds him of Newfoundland. Which brings us to the Vikings.
We’re sitting inside the replica of a small Viking house. It is built with rocks, the ceiling covered in grass and peat. A room like this would have housed 25 people, sleeping sitting up, close to a fireplace giving warmth. Iceland’s first settlers lived in harsh times. Their descendants have put up with one catastrophe after the other, from earthquakes to the country’s most recent disaster, the 2008 financial crisis that almost bankrupted its economy.
Despite the drop in the value of the kroner, we reckon Iceland is the most expensive country we’ve ever been to. When take-out burgers cost $15, a bowl of soup $17 and a beer $10, it’s no wonder many tour groups picnic for lunch, and stay in converted school residences. Besides fish, lamb and cheap geothermal energy, just about everything is imported. Fortunately, nature has always been free to enjoy.
Our bus has its second blowout in two days on a rocky sand road that proves too much for the tread. While our driver sets to work rotating spares, we set off into the desert moonscape, finding a path of soft moss to relax and enjoy the views of Langjökull, Iceland’s second-largest ice cap. The silence in this part of the world is sublime.
Once we arrive in the rift valley of Thingvellir, we enter the Golden Circle – the country’s most popular tourist route. Tourists flock to the site of Iceland’s traditional parliament, where the continents of Europe and North America are literally drifting apart. Our guide sets up a picnic table for lunch. Every day there’s something new: herring, caviar, lamb pâté, cold meats, gravlax, sardines, breads, spreads and cheese. Occasionally there are Icelandic treats, like candy, dark bread, or hákarl.
