On this bucket list trip, I discovered that once-in-a-lifetime experiences are good for the soul.
Words by Rebecca Deurlein
Photos by Saever Helgi Bragason, Paige Deasley, Ingibjorg Fridriksdottir, Kristjan Petur Vilhelmsson
Last year I took 26 trips, so when I tell you that I will spend the rest of my life encouraging people to get to Iceland, you’ll have some sense of how it stood out from the rest.
Imagine a landscape formed by volcanic rock—miles and miles of jagged black land that looks like it was lifted from the surface of Mars. The terrain is largely flat, opening up to suddenly grassy meadows filled with unusual horses that look more like Disney-inspired steeds than the real things. They tölt along the road – the only breed in the world with this elegant, high-stepping gait—and distract you from what’s just around the corner. Then you see it, and gasp. Just before you, from a 350-foot cliff, plunging water roars and drops, drops, drops, its spray misting tiny travelers at its base. A rainbow forms in its wake, a breathtaking addition to an already perfect picture.
It’s almost too much, the stark beauty of this otherworldly country, where steam rises from the surface and volcanoes threaten to erupt. Even the sky is eerie here as the Northern Lights make regular appearances and the lack of pollution intensifies the brightness of each star.
The imposing landscape, however, is balanced by the warmth of the people, who are all too happy to introduce you to their land, their culture, and their favorite activities. For me, it all began at Hotel Ranga, a full-service resort in South Iceland, the most popular destination for travelers to this country. About 90 minutes from Reykjavik, the hotel is centrally located to everything you want to do, from glacier hiking to cave exploring. And it’s the only hotel in Iceland with its own observatory, so stargazing is positively epic here.
I loved waking up every morning to a full buffet breakfast that powered me up for the day’s activities. And I loved coming back after a long day, taking a seat at the bar, and warming up with one of the many Icelandic gins. From there, it was just three steps to the riverside restaurant, where I dined on fresh, local food like reindeer and salmon. In May, the days are long, so even at 10:00 pm when I dragged my happily exhausted butt to bed, it was still light outside, a reminder even as I nodded off that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Hotel Ranga also arranged all my tours. The Icelandic terrain requires special vehicles—think massive jeeps with special tires that can be filled or deflated to accommodate ice, snow, and volcanic rock. Each day one of these monstrous rides would arrive at the lobby door for a new adventure led by local experts. They guided me through ice caves, pickaxe in hand, and explained how the rapidly melting formations from climate change make every trek different. I took too many photos of a surreal and perfect ice ring, the last remnant of a former cave, and two days later, that ring was gone. It was a cold, hard reminder that beauty is indeed fleeting.
One guide took me to his family’s property where generations used to farm before a volcano wiped out not just the crops, but the land. The family adapted, relocating to a more fruitful area, and as we explored, it was a lesson in resilience. I drank fresh water from a ladle dipped into the family well, snapped photos of the sheep wandering down the country road, and gawked at more waterfalls, each stunningly unique.
I enjoyed some man-made fun on a wild buggy ride through a desolate stretch of land filled with massive puddles of rainwater. Yes, I gunned it to splash through them, a sheet of water washing over me while I laughed uncontrollably and felt joy fill my heart. For that hour, I was a kid again. It was one of my favorite hours of the trip.
For that hour, I was a kid again.
Not every activity in Iceland is high adrenaline. I baked geothermal bread by burying a ball of dough in a clay pot just a foot deep in the steaming ground. Retrieving the warm, yeasty Hverabrauð (lava bread) the next day, I slathered it with local honey and smacked my lips with delight. And at night, I peered through a high-powered telescope and saw stars and constellations unobservable in the big city where I live. I tasted Flóki whiskey smoked with sheep dung (!!) while listening to the sweet sounds of local songstress Inki Friðriks, her voice dancing off the rock walls of an ancient cave.
Everything, all of it, was unfamiliar, marvelous, and memorable. It encapsulated all the reasons I travel—hence, my entreaty to you—get yourself to Iceland and discover what takes your breath away.
