The sun shone brightly as we drove up the hill, and the tundra to the left glowed with scarlets and golds accented against the pale green.
“Very pretty,” I said.
“Yes, they’re all lined up,” my companion, Patti, said.
Puzzled, I glanced to the right and saw her looking at snowcapped mountains, all in a row.
Guess you have to be more specific when you’re in a land of superlatives, I thought.
Iceland is about as big as Kentucky. Despite its diminutive size, it’s full of jaw-dropping superlatives. There are waterfalls everywhere, from rivulets to raging monsters, volcanoes both dormant and lava-spewing, and glaciers (some covering those volcanoes) and icebergs. Then there are hot springs and geysers, fjords and rivers, whooper swans and Icelandic horses. Spend a week or so driving the island, as we did in September, and you’ll be convinced that there’s at least one superlative for every one of its 325,000 friendly residents.
Early in our drive on the Ring Road, which circles the island in the North Atlantic just south of the Arctic Circle, I marveled as I watched people pull into a parking lot, pile out of their vehicles and eagerly stand in a steady rain with gusting winds while they pulled on raincoats and rain pants.
Then it was a slog of a few hundred yards to their goal: Seljalandsfoss. At 200 feet high and perhaps 60 feet wide, it’s hardly Iceland’s largest waterfall. Its claim to fame is the path that lets you walk behind the cascading water.
On this day, thanks to the rain, the volume of water thundering over the falls was amazing, and the wind was blowing it every which way.
Spectacular, and well worth risking a drenching.
Because of its location in the southwestern part of the island, Seljalandsfoss is a popular stop for day trips from the capital of Reykjavik. But traveling farther east, particularly during off-season as we were, it’s not hard to find solitude. While driving in the northeast from Egilsstadir to the Lake Myvatn area, we spied a beautiful double waterfall cascading down a mountainside not far from the road. For the next hour we hiked nearer, stopping often to photograph or just watch and listen to the sound. And it was all ours.
Water in many forms is ubiquitous here. North of Hofn, in the east of the island, the road veered away from the fjords that glaciers had carved into the black volcanic rock of the mountains. We pulled off at a small lake artistically covered in the reflections of puffy clouds that soon obscured the sun. When the sun peeked out a few minutes later, the wind kicked up a bit, and the yellow of the sun looked like spun gold on the water surface.
Farther west, at Jokulsarlon, seabirds soared around icebergs of all sizes and shapes that had calved from the immense Vatnajokull glacier, Iceland’s largest. Several volcanoes are hidden away (usually) under the ice cap, including Bardarbunga, which was making news worldwide during our trip with its lava flows and venting of gas. At Jokulsarlon, though, all was quiet save for the sound of small boats ferrying in tourists among the huge chunks of ice.
We didn’t board one of those boats, but in Reykjavik before our drive, we hopped aboard one for a run out into the ocean in search of whales. The minke whales kept their distance that day, but a few dolphins ventured in closer. Some aboard tried their hand at fishing, hauling in cod, herring and flounder, which the chef grilled on the spot and everyone shared.
On other days from Reykjavik we joined groups for a snowmobile outing on the Myrdalsjokull glacier and an ATV run through lava fields and mountain terrain. These Icelanders are a hardy lot.
Two of Iceland’s distinctive animals put on shows for us on our last full day on the island. While driving from Saudarkrokur in the northwest we watched half a dozen whooper swans — similar to our trumpeter swans — paddle around a small stream just off the highway. The juveniles were nearly as large as the adults, which can have a wingspan of 9 feet, but still didn’t have the white plumage and yellow and black beaks of their elders.
Then they took flight and were gone, leaving us with just a vivid memory.
A ways down the road, we took a detour to check out a historic church and were rewarded with some frisky Icelandic horses. Though many of the breed are more the size of ponies, they have a hardy look and distinctive flowing manes. The breed dates to the 9th century, and to keep it pure, the import of horses into the country is forbidden.
Most we had seen before were docile and enjoyed a good head rub, but today we watched as two — one nearly black, the other blond — sparred, galloping back and forth, rearing onto hind legs and nipping at each other. It brightened an otherwise overcast and dreary day.
At the end of this day we enjoyed a soak in the hot mineral waters of the Blue Lagoon near the airport. But our thoughts were still in the wild countryside that had captured our hearts.
If you go
Getting there and staying there
Iceland is just a five- to six-hour flight from the East Coast. Among airlines going there, Icelandair flies from Boston, Denver, Minneapolis, New York/Newark, Orlando, Fla.; Portland, Ore.; Seattle and Washington. icelandair.us
The airline offers air/lodging packages that can be customized. Iceland Travel offers escorted and self-drive packages as well as day trips. icelandtravel.is
When to go
June-August is the peak season. Fall is beautiful with the tundra changing color, though some lodgings, restaurants and attractions may not be open. Winter offers skiing, snowmobiling and other outdoorsy activities for the hardy, and Reykjavik is popular at anytime for its dining, drinking and entertainment scene.
Weather
In September we had days mostly in the 50s with a mix of sunny and overcast skies and a day or two with gale-force winds. Take rain gear and a sunny disposition and you’ll be fine.
Although Iceland touches the Arctic Circle, its climate can be milder than destinations farther south because it’s touched by the Gulf Stream.
Info
Icelandic Tourist Board, visiticeland.com
