Day 1: Reykjavík → Golden Circle

As the plane descended towards Iceland, we were already impressed – a jagged rocky shoreline stretched out into brilliantly turquoise water, and the dark volcanic land was dusted with the soft purple of a million blooming lupin.

The magic continued. The first thing we did after getting our rental car (the beloved Suzuki Jimny), was head straight to Þingvellir (Thingvellir). A UNESCO world heritage site, Þingvellir is cool on a geographical, historical and aesthetic level. A rift valley where the Eurasian and North American plates meet, it's also the historic meeting site of Iceland's thousand-year-old parliamentary system. We wandered around, in jet-lagged stupor, marveling at the immeasurably deep pools, strange geological formations, and the Law Rock, where the “speaker of the laws” would recite the latest and greatest at the end of Althing festival season.

We then shook off our jet lag on a mellow hike to a series of three waterfalls (Brúarfoss). We followed an at-times-very-muddy trail along a sumptuous and wildly turquoise river, encountering pounding falls which we could sit right over and feel the spray. The river was so full and vigorous – quite satisfying after flying from drought-stricken California.

Our last stop of the day was Geysir, the eponymous geyser which gives its name to all others. The main active geyser sprays every 15 minutes, and there are a number of steaming pools in this super geothermally active region. Basically a mini and perhaps more impressive Yellowstone.

That night, we were excited to bed down in a yurt. It was cozy and warm and we slept like babies, surprised to wake up to the sound of whipping wind and braying sheep and, as everywhere, surrounded by the incredible wild beauty of the Icelandic landscape.

Day 5: Storming the Viking Set

This day was a doozy. Lots of driving and bad weather. We got our asses handed to us by a storm of hurricane-force wind and rain and got soaked to the bone while attempting to visit an old Viking movie set. (Which of us makes a fiercer Viking?)

We then spent most of the day driving the twisting eastern fjord highway, trying to stay on the road as wind, rain, and passing semi-trucks made our poor little Jimny rock and roll.

We were rewarded by gorgeous views — countless unnamed waterfalls trickling down the steep green cliffs – and Petra’s rock collection, a most eccentric and enjoyable museum in Stöðvarfjörður.

We arrived in Egilsstaðir in time to visit the Vök nature baths (our favorite baths of the whole trip) — infinity geothermal pools overlooking chilly Urriðavatn lake. After heating up in the pools, you could simply step over the edge and take a cold plunge into the brisk lake water. Asali swam perhaps a bit longer than one was supposed to in the cold lake (too much conditioning in the SF Bay), and got some strange looks from the locals, who were convinced she was on a mission to freeze and drown.

We then made our way over a mountain pass to our accommodations for the night. This was a bit of a harrowing drive – the road was not only thick with tule fog, but also covered in a light dusting of snow (yes, this was July...). Luckily, the trusty Jimny got us to our hostel – a converted 1800s hospital in the adorable artsy fjord town of Seyðisfjörður. We had a very late dinner at El Grillo, a fun establishment famous for its “ghost beer”.

Day 7: Mývatn's Mysteries

We had a fun breakfast with various horse-folk and other tourists the next morning, before jetting off to the big boy of waterfalls – Dettifoss. This one has the distinction of being the most powerful waterfall in Europe, and it was certainly not messing around.

After getting soaked by the mist (the spray of which can be seen for almost a mile away!), we ventured to the Mývatn/Krafla area – a highly geothermally active zone surrounding a large lake (and popular resort area for Icelanders). We saw an impressively large (and very windy) crater lake, a geothermal electricity plant, and bubbling pots of sulphuric (and smelly!) geothermal mud.

We recovered from the smelly sulfur pots with a nice soak in the Mývatn baths – same vibe as Vök, with turquoise, mineral-rich skin-softening waters. Then we took a walk through a forest of petrified lava formations, known by locals to house elves and fairies. We saw huge lava caves, strange towers, and an enormous, majestic “elf church”.

Finally, we drove around the lake and headed for our next stop, Akureyri. After a ride through a terrifyingly long 10 km tunnel, we popped out on the other side to the bustling metropolis of Iceland’s second city (population ~60k). We made it in time for a an unfortunately mediocre burrito at Icelandic “Mexican food” chain Serrano, and then checked into our capsule hotel.

This proved to be our most disappointing accommodation in Iceland. When booking, we’d figured a capsule hotel might be a fun change of pace from rural guesthouses, but it proved to be a claustrophobic nightmare. Asali had once stayed in a quite nice capsule hotel in Kyoto, and this was definitely the cheapo knockoff version. Half of the controls inside the capsule didn’t work (including, worryingly, the door unlock button – we had to use the emergency exit!), and capsules were stacked on top of each other in long rows (with very thin walls).

Luckily, we had a fun late-night romp around the botanical gardens, and a flight of beer at the Viking-themed Einstök brewery, before bedding down in our strange tin can.

Day 8: Akureyri and Herring

We woke up disoriented and cranky in our stuffy little capsule. After a nice café breakfast, we wandered up to the famous church. Most churches in Icelandic cities are architecturally wild for some reason, and this one is no exception. We hadn’t planned on going inside, but when we reached the top of the staircase, the doors were open and we wandered into a lovely scene – a children’s chorus practice. We sat and listened to gorgeous Icelandic melodies sung by a group of fresh-faced elementary students.

We then hit up the art museum – a very chic, modern building full of classic Icelandic artists and rotating contemporary exhibits.

Then we hit the road again, passing through a series of cute seaside towns until we reached Siglufjörður, home of the illustrious Herring Era Museum. We’ll spare you all the nitty gritty (but surprisingly fascinating) details about the rise and fall of the herring fishing industry in Iceland, but what made the museum exceptionally cool (and smelly) was the fact that it was located in the actual buildings of a historic herring factory. We wandered through the ship building hangar, climbing on real herring vessels, held our noses through the canning and packing facilities, and even toured the upstairs dormitories where the “herring girls” lived, replete with period era suitcases, magazines, clothing, etc. The museum supplemented these authentic settings with cleverly curated multimedia exhibits. Who knew fishing history could be so fun?

After our immersive herring experience, we began another long, late drive through fjords, fields and whole lotta achingly beautiful nothing. This was the night of the dinner that got away. For some reason, all the restaurants we tried to hit up (in the few towns with restaurants we encountered along the way) were full, so we resigned ourselves to no dinner… until… saved by the iconic Icelandic gas station hot dog! Yes please to the crispy onions and the raw onions. And we definitely sampled all four types of mayo and ketchup.

It was a good thing we found some dinner, because our accommodations that night were in the most middle-of-nowhere spot imaginable, miles away from any trace of civilization. There was a spooky vibe in this run-down 70’s building, and we didn’t see another soul in the whole hotel except the grumpy old Polish woman who silently stalked the halls pushing empty breakfast carts. Was she even real?

Day 9: Long drive to the Westfjords

We busted out of our haunted hotel real quick in the morning, to begin our journey to the Westfjords (the large peninsula in the NW that is the most depopulated and unvisited part of the island). This was our longest drive yet, but we didn’t mind. It was fun to drive the intensely winding roads, rounding corner after corner to see narrow fjords rimmed by dark sand beaches, boasting only a few houses, the ubiquitous red and white church perched precariously on an outcropped crag.

We played a fun game on this drive – who would be first to spot a sheep in each new fjord. Often, said sheep would be standing practically vertical on a cliff outcropping, munching who knows what. Occasionally we’d come across a small group of sheep sitting comfortably on the black rocky beaches, staring out at the gently lapping Atlantic ocean – unusual beach bums.

Along the drive, we stopped at a Sheep Farming Museum, where we learned about one of Iceland’s most important industries, and enjoyed a lovely meal of… you guessed it… lamb! We also popped in for a brief stint at the Witchcraft Museum (not as spooky as we’d hoped, but lots of interesting history about folklore and witch trials in Iceland).

Countless fjords later, we rolled into Ísafjörður, the regional capital (population 3,000) and were immediately charmed by its cobblestone streets, waterfront vistas, and cozy vibe. We checked into our hostel, which was a true hostel, dorm style, and we shared a room with an older Icelandic woman who – believe it or not – had actually lived in El Cerrito, CA, for a time!

We scored some great sushi from a downtown food truck, and hit up yet another local brewery. We almost got peer-pressured into a late-night rock show at a local pub, but decided to hit the sack early to be ready for our long hike the next day.

Day 10: Hiking through the Mists

We woke up bright and early in preparation for our big hike in the Hornstrandir peninsula – an astounding nature reserve just across the fjord from Ísafjörður. As there are no roads to Hornstrandir, we’d booked ferry tickets plus a guided hike to have access to the place. Upon arriving at the tour office at the crack of dawn, we encountered our first big wrinkle of the day – Anna. Picture this: a Russian-Israeli tourist in her seventies, wearing a pink crocheted scarf and carrying multiple purses, trying to weasel her way into joining a grueling hiking tour that she had neither paid nor prepared for. She spoke no Icelandic and barely any English, but as soon as she found out Alex spoke Russian, she forced him to plead her case in English to the confused and concerned Icelandic guides.

Thanks to Alex, Anna ended up getting herself onto the ferry, sailing to our first stop, the abandoned whaling village of Hesteyri. After much back-and-forth between Anna and the tour staff (with Alex acting as reluctant translator), it was finally decided that, while she couldn’t attend the hike, she was permitted to hang out in Hesteyri for the day and then catch the late ferry back. Anna reluctantly accepted this compromise.

Meanwhile, the actual hiking group began with a short jaunt along the craggy coast to view the old whaling station, a crumbling relic of brick and rust. Returning to the village, we had coffee and pancakes in the Old Doctor’s House (now a café), as the proprietor serenaded us on Iceland’s national instrument, the langspil. We then embarked on what was supposed to be a 7-mile climb over the ridge and down to the other side of the peninsula, where the return ferry would meet us. The hike began beautifully and the nature was truly pristine – wildflowers, impossibly green grasses, burbling streams.

However, as we hiked higher up the mountain, the fog thickened dramatically. We began to encounter snowfields, and eventually the trail disappeared altogether. The guide navigated by following cairns – large piles of rocks built a thousand years ago by the first Icelanders as wayfinding tools. But as the fog became thicker and thicker, the cairns became harder and harder to spot. Eventually, our guide stopped – he’d done this exact hike hundreds of times, but had never encountered fog this thick. If we kept going, he told us, we’d risk getting lost for good. Even after turning around, we had trouble finding our way back and had to backtrack more than once.

Heading back down to Hesteyri, the fog finally lifted a bit and we got a glorious view of the little village surrounded by the fjord. When we reached the bottom, Anna was hanging out in front of the Old Doctor’s House, smoking a cigarette. “Oh, you’re back,” she said, totally deadpan. She was grumpy as ever, and threatened to go to the ticket office the next day to complain.

But on the ferry ride back, an incredible thing happened. In the middle of the bay, the captain suddenly stopped the ship, and told us to all go out on the deck. A pod of humpback whales was surrounding the boat! Only feet away, we could hear them breathing as they breached, and were transfixed by their size and presence. We watched as they rose elegantly from the watery depths to breathe and dove back down, leaving only ripples. Even Anna was silent. She told us later that she may not complain to the tour office after all, having scored a free whale watching tour.

We finished off our stay in Ísafjörður with a memorable dinner at Tjöruhúsið, a long-established fish restaurant currently run by a real character of a chef. It’s all buffet-style, with dozens of fish dishes of different cuisines, featuring the daily catch from Ísafjörður harbor. Before the meal, the chef addressed the whole restaurant – everyone sitting at communal wooden tables – with an extended standup set, first in Icelandic and then English, before declaring, “Go eat! Eat as much as you can!" We certainly did.

Day 11: Car Ferries and Lingonberries

After sampling traditional Icelandic pastries at a local cafe in Ísafjörður, we had a very enjoyable experience at the Museum of Everyday Life, a tiny, three-room experience exploring all aspects of Westfjords life – from local family stories attached to old books, to a gallery of smells accompanied by poetry, to the very literal “take a walk in our shoes” exhibit, in which residents’ shoes are paired with audio interviews.

In the nearby town of Flateyri, we visited the oldest bookstore in Iceland, run by the very talkative great-grandson of the original owner. We then checked the time. Uh oh, we were running a little late to the car ferry that would take from Westfjords to the next peninsula over, Snæfellsnes. And we still had quite a ways to get there.

But even in our rush, we simply couldn’t miss Dynjandi, the iconic Westfjords waterfall aptly named “The Thunderous One”. So we sprinted up to catch a glimpse of it, ran back to the car, drove a little faster than advisable over some harrowing mountain passes, dodged some active construction equipment, and … made it just in time to drive our car into the belly of the Baldur Ferry.

We then got a much-deserved two-hour rest as the ferry went on its leisurely route across the bay. Along the way, it made a stop at the tiny island of Flatey, and we got to witness a cinematically charming scene of islanders waving to their friends and relatives as they boarded our little ferry to the mainland.

Upon landing at Stikkisholmur, on the Snæfellsnes peninsula, we had a fancy dinner featuring local cuisine and then journeyed to our guest house, yet another prefab tiny cabin in the middle of nature.

Day 12: Stikky Situations

We woke up in our little loft in Stikkisholmur determined to make the most of our last day with the trusty Suzuki Jimny. We climbed Helgafell, a mountain that once hosted a temple honoring Thor and to this day has many superstitions surrounding it. As we started climbing it, a big black dog appeared out of nowhere to lead the way, and it ran back down as soon as we got to the top. Was it an enthusiastic pet or a pagan spirit guide? In any case, we were treated to a fabulous view of the surrounding bay and mountains.

We then embarked on our tightly planned, rapid-fire tour of the entire Snæfellsnes peninsula. However, our second stop proved disastrous. In a spur-of-the-moment attempt to view the self-proclaimed “street art capital of Iceland” in Hellissandur, we got the rental car stuck on a ledge in a warehouse parking lot with split-level pavement. The nearest tow truck was hours away, and we were at our wits’ end … until an elderly Israeli tourist named Amir saw our plight and constructed a pyramid of rocks so our Jimny could 4WD its way out of the predicament. Turns out he was a retired engineer. We can’t thank you enough, Amir!

A bit shaken by our near–disaster, we nonetheless managed to enjoy the exciting wonders of the volcanic peninsula – black sand beaches with ancient shipwrecks, lighthouses on the ends of the earth, craggy cliffs full of nesting gulls, puffins and auks, a mysterious black church, and a delightful lunch at Fjöruhúsið, easily the most scenic cafe in Iceland. We capped the day off with – you guessed it – another hot spring! Ölkelduvatn is a natural bath with algae water, surrounded by horse farms. We ran into some fellow young American travelers and had a fun time discussing the mysteries of Pittsburgh.

We then hoofed it back to Reykjavík, trying to drink in the last drops of the scenic countryside. We arrived at our Reykjavík hostel at 11pm, exhausted and relieved to get some rest … and we realized that our rental car drop off location was in the suburbs, miles away, and public transit at that time of night was nonexistent. Ditto for taxis and rideshares. So we ended up dropping off the car and walking the 4 miles back from the suburbs along the harbor, eventually scoring a 1am falafel downtown with the local drunks. Not what we signed up for, but a great way to see a very un-touristy slice of the city.