"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time." - Norman Maclean 'A River Runs Through It'
Last Christmas, Shaynie came to visit me in LA for a night. We exchanged gifts. I opened mine first. She got me a scratch map so I could keep track of where I've been. She helped me scratch off a few countries. I got her the Lonely Planet guide to Iceland. A few weeks later she texted me. "Flights to Iceland are $350 in April, FYI." I called her back. "I hope you know I don't joke about cheap flights. I'm serious about going. Wanna buy them?" And that's how we ended up going to Iceland.
We texted our college roommate group message and extended the offer to three other girls. Hannah agreed to join us for part of it. She works at a high school and her spring break didn't coincide with our trip, so she left three days before us and came back three days before us. Shaynie came down to visit me about a month before our trip and we spent several hours sitting at my kitchen table booking hostels, excursions, and rental cars.
We flew Wow Air to Iceland. And, as my Dad often says, 'You get what you pay for.' They charged $50 each way just for a carry on. Shaynie and I seriously debated if we could pull off a whole week in Iceland bringing nothing with us, and thankfully decided against it. We still packed light and looked a little silly wearing snow boots at LAX in April, but were not the only ones who had done so.
We boarded and were seated for awhile. A couple more stragglers made their way back and were putting their bags in the overhead compartment. The plane lurched and I had the sensation that the plane was backing up. The guy putting his bag away stumbled and dropped some papers in his hand. "Huh, Wow is pretty lax on safety," was the only thought that crossed my mind as I settled into my seat and prepared for us to take off. It was a few minutes later that I realized we hadn't actually moved anywhere. No one said anything and nothing registered. "Oh!" I overheard one of the chatty ladies a few rows up. "There was a 5.3 earthquake just now! Off the Channel Islands." "Ohhhh," a bunch of people around me said collectively.
There were no TVs so I spent most of the flight just staring straight ahead at the back of the seat. It was pitch black outside and we were somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. The inside of the cabin was dim and most of our seatmates were sleeping in various contorted positions. We were still a few hours away from Reykjavik. The pilot said something over the intercom that sounded vaguely like the teacher from Charlie Brown. Shaynie stopped a stewardess, "did he say you could see the Northern Lights?" "Yes, from the left side of the plane." I had a sudden worry that the plane was going to have the same issue that boats have when everyone rushes to one side suddenly. Luckily, only a few people were awake and got up, Shaynie and I included, and went over to the other row. Some guy kindly got up and offered us his window. I stuck my face in the tiny plane window.
It took me a moment to make sense of what I was seeing. With no point of reference, no speckled city lights beneath us, no horizon, it felt like I was staring into a dizzying abyss. My eyes had nothing to focus on, and to be fair I have terrible eyesight. I searched straight out, looked down, and couldn't see anything. And then I looked up. I tried to think of a way to phrase this without being cliche, but my authentic reaction was to gasp and say, 'Oh my God.' They were big and pale, pale green in wide winding strokes.
It took me a moment to make sense of what I was seeing. With no point of reference, no speckled city lights beneath us, no horizon, it felt like I was staring into a dizzying abyss. My eyes had nothing to focus on, and to be fair I have terrible eyesight. I searched straight out, looked down, and couldn't see anything. And then I looked up. I tried to think of a way to phrase this without being cliche, but my authentic reaction was to gasp and say, 'Oh my God.' They were big and pale, pale green in wide winding strokes.
The rest of the trip Shaynie and I would obsessively check the Northern Lights forecast online every day. Each night before we went to bed we would bundle back up over our pajamas, put our glasses on, and trek out into the cold in an attempt to catch another glimpse, to no avail. I had not realized how fleeting they were. I thought you went to Iceland and just like saw the northern lights. People will trek out for weeks and weeks and lay out all night in the the snow in an attempt to see them and not. So we were incredibly lucky.
We arrived in Reykjavik at 4 in the morning and took a shuttle to the city center. We were dropped unceremoniously on a corner just as the first rays of sunlight were lighting up the fringes of the city. And it was unbelievably cold. We shivered aggressively and pulled hats down further our ears and jumped up and down and struggled to breathe while we waited for Hannah to come find us.
She did, not too long after, and walked us back to her airbnb, a cute ground floor studio that was welcomingly warm. Hannah so thoughtfully had breakfast waiting for us: chocolate croissants, French press coffee, and traditional Icelandic skyr yogurt. We traded off showering and laying down in Hannah's bed for a minute, before changing and heading out to start our trip. I can't emphasize enough how refreshing it was to start off the trip like that. We felt reenergized and ready to see the country, despite being completely temporally displaced and generally disoriented.
She did, not too long after, and walked us back to her airbnb, a cute ground floor studio that was welcomingly warm. Hannah so thoughtfully had breakfast waiting for us: chocolate croissants, French press coffee, and traditional Icelandic skyr yogurt. We traded off showering and laying down in Hannah's bed for a minute, before changing and heading out to start our trip. I can't emphasize enough how refreshing it was to start off the trip like that. We felt reenergized and ready to see the country, despite being completely temporally displaced and generally disoriented.
We threw our bags into the rental car, plugged in the auxiliary cord to play my Iceland Spotify Playlist (full of Icelandic bands like Of Monsters and Men, Kaleo, and Sigur Rós). We stopped for gas and some to go sandwiches, and were on our way before 6 am.
Day one was incredibly productive. Our plan was the first half of the Golden Circle: a 140 mile scenic loop with Reykjavik as the anchor. Given the abrasive weather Iceland is prone to, the roads were in surprisingly fantastic shape. We approached this road trip in a very classic style - any time we saw something cool, we stopped. It was awesome.
Day one was incredibly productive. Our plan was the first half of the Golden Circle: a 140 mile scenic loop with Reykjavik as the anchor. Given the abrasive weather Iceland is prone to, the roads were in surprisingly fantastic shape. We approached this road trip in a very classic style - any time we saw something cool, we stopped. It was awesome.
We do this thing at work called 'Skill Swap' where on Fridays we take turns during our lunch break presenting on a topic, any topic. It can be work related or just something you're interested in. Two of my coworkers had upcoming trips to Iceland and requested I do a 'Planning a Trip to Iceland' slideshow when I got back. I'll throw some of my slides in here and there. This was the Golden Circle section of the roadtrip we went on.
We turned left off the ring road and onto the Golden Circle. Our first unplanned stop was at Kerið, a frozen over crater formed by a volcano. We saw tourist buses parked, were like 'what's that', and stopped. We hiked the perimeter, then climbed down the stairs to the big frozen hole.
We drove on. Our next stop was Gullfoss, a three tiered massive waterfall that ultimately gushes into a canyon. The tiers have to do with the erosion and the density of the layers of rock. The mist from the waterfall froze against the sides.
Another unplanned stop (I really thought we had done more research) was Faxi Falls, a smaller waterfall that you could get closer to. At first, we were the only ones there which was a welcome reprieve from the tourist buses. We played in the snow and hiked out on the ridge.
You can put a little money in the honor system donation box and can buy food and pet them.
this one was incredibly photogenic.
We then stopped at 'geysir', a geyser. According to Wikipedia, it is the first geyser known to Europeans and the English word geyser traces its etymology to this specific geyser. It's weird being cold and seeing the ground steaming, especially with the snow capped mountains in the background. The largest geyser didn't erupt while we were there, but the second largest erupted consistently every few minutes. It would gurgle and surge and startlingly spew, showering hordes of tourists with warm sulfuric water.
We then stopped at a little farm with incredibly fresh ice cream. So fresh, you actually eat the ice cream while watching the cows who produced the milk to make the ice cream. I didn't realize there was such a thing as too fresh ice cream until I was trying to stomach my (tasty) gelato while making awkward eye contact with the fly ridden Kuh that supplied the milk.
The hostel is also conveniently located right next to a local hot springs. We changed into our suits and trekked over. There were several outdoor pools with varying temperatures, all naturally heated by geothermal energy.
This hot springs was also unique in that it had a private small dock to the lake - and you could jump in. The air that day was a high of 42, low of 32. The water was probably somewhere in there in terms of temperature. We soaked in the various hot springs for awhile, sitting on the large rocks and switching pools when we got to warm or too cold. We then worked up the courage to walk onto the dock and take a few shivering photos.
We sat down on the edge of the end of the dock and pushed ourselves in. The water was sharp, and took our breath away. The sand was black, the water clear, and there was a dead silver fish I tried to avoid stepping on. I walked around a bit in the chest high water, feeling my body go numb with cold. Shortly after, we kicked ourselves back onto the dock and ran back to the hot pools.
We had a lovely and filling dinner at the hostel in a trendy room overlooking the lake.
Also, something I noticed. Bathrooms in Iceland are tiny. At just under 5' 5", my knees would hit the wall when I sat on the toilet. Sometimes I had to pee sitting sideways.
Our expensive 'treat-yo-self' excursion was on Day 2. I was looking forward to this so much, and I was thrilled that my friends were on board for doing it with me. We were going snorkeling in the continental divide.
We woke up and got dressed. They advised you wear multiple comfortable layers.
We grabbed skyr yogurts and more gas station sandwiches on our way out to Thingvellir National Park. It was a beautiful and peaceful drive. We saw few other cars and the hills to either side were covered in clean patches of snow. We drove into the national park and caught a glimpse of Thingvallavatn - the giant lake we would soon be getting into.
Pointing out the crack we were going to go snorkeling in
I love nature and the environment. Being in Iceland gave me a whole new, deeper respect for nature. There are lots of classic tales 'human vs. nature', 'human conquers nature,' but that's never the case. Human has never conquered nature. We are at the utter whim of nature, and depend on it to survive. Iceland is harsh. The people are friendly and welcoming. But the land itself is unwelcoming, barren, extreme. It seemed very survivalist. You have to be hardy, tough enough to withstand intense winters and severe unpredictable weather changes. But at the expense of access to a lot of the conveniences available in most developed parts of the world, you are in one of the most stunning, extreme, untouched parts of the world.
Just to put it in perspective, I live in Los Angeles. A city of four million people living in 500 square miles. Iceland has 340,000 people living in almost 40,000 square miles. Angelenos live some of the most comfortable lives in the world. Anything you could ever need is there. We have and can grow fresh produce, food and clothing and other common items are either produced nearby or are not too expensive to import. I have lived in Southern California now for almost nine years. That means I have not been exposed to actual weather for nine years. Meanwhile, Iceland had signs all over it warning you of all the ways that nature and weather can kill you.
In Thingvellir, I felt like I had been transported 1,000,000 years back in time when the continents and bodies of water and mountains that I love so much were still being born and formed and created. The Earth is literally slowly ripping apart as we speak. And we were going to swim at the center of it.
Every year North America moves physically 2 cm apart from Europe. In my lifetime already the cracks have widened by half a meter. The Earth is constantly moving, and forming, and creating, and changing. And it's incredible to see firsthand.
We met up in the parking lot where there were lots of vans and snorkelers in various stages of dress. We took off our coats, hats, and shoes, and had to be helped into these giant dry suits. You wiggle half way in to the pants and boots, still fully clothed. Then one of the employees helps you get it over your head. It seals watertight around your wrists and neck. They are godawfully heavy and uncomfortable.
They then pull hoods over your head, shove waterproof mittens on your hands, and yank masks over your face while you are trying to figure out how to operate the suit. You then waddle with your group to the launch point. You get in the water by using a metal staircase at the tip of a crack on the north end of the lake. Our guide Siobhan was a transplant from England, and the three other people in our group were a nice group of friends from Malta.
that's me on the far right, it was so hard to tell who was who
I put my face in and it hurt so bad. My first thought was "I made a mistake." I kept having to take my face out for a few moments to warm it back up before putting it back in. It was uncomfortable. The dry suits are heavy and it's a very physically demanding activity. The water was 2 degrees celsius. It hurt a little to breathe and I was shaking in my dry suit. Eventually I adjusted.
Every year North America moves physically 2 cm apart from Europe. In my lifetime already the cracks have widened by half a meter. The Earth is constantly moving, and forming, and creating, and changing. And it's incredible to see firsthand.
They then pull hoods over your head, shove waterproof mittens on your hands, and yank masks over your face while you are trying to figure out how to operate the suit. You then waddle with your group to the launch point. You get in the water by using a metal staircase at the tip of a crack on the north end of the lake. Our guide Siobhan was a transplant from England, and the three other people in our group were a nice group of friends from Malta.
I put my face in and it hurt so bad. My first thought was "I made a mistake." I kept having to take my face out for a few moments to warm it back up before putting it back in. It was uncomfortable. The dry suits are heavy and it's a very physically demanding activity. The water was 2 degrees celsius. It hurt a little to breathe and I was shaking in my dry suit. Eventually I adjusted.
And then it was spectacular. The water was so clear, and so, so blue. There was a natural gradient of blue green orange. The noon sun refracted against the sides of the splintered tectonic plates. The snorkeling pictures are not filtered. It is some of the cleanest, clearest water on Earth. You can drink it! I felt so calm. And so cold.
It's very easy, though, you don't even have to really kick. You just kind of float and the current carries you down the crack. I was in awe, staring straight down at the impossibly clear water, floating along at the whim of the gentle current, watching the sun rays break on the still rocks. And I was so buoyant. The suits are hard to operate, and your body is so cold it doesn't want to move, but I figured out how to dunk my head deep enough to flip upside down and somersault. I did a few somersaults, dizzying myself. A few others in the group tried to somersault, too, and got stuck floating on their backs wailing their limbs like flipped sea turtles.
We ended the 45 minute swim/float in a small lagoon. By this time we adjusted to the water. The guide told us we were allowed to hang out as long as we'd like in the water. Shaynie, Hannah, and I decided that a good use of our time before we became hypothermic was to try to see how deep we could swim in our buoyant dry suits. The water was about shoulder deep. We tried to dive head first into the water and the buoyancy of our inflexible dry suits would bounce us straight back up out of the water. We spent a significant time bobbing upside down in the water and cracking up until we looked up and realized that the rest of our group had long gotten out of the water and were watching us with a mixture of amusement and confusion.
We climbed out, waddled back to the parking lot, and were peeled out of the dry suits.
snorkeler crossing
We climbed out, waddled back to the parking lot, and were peeled out of the dry suits.
For some reason, my body in particular rejected the cold. In all the pictures we took for the rest of the day, my face is swollen. As an example:
We shoved some sandwiches in our face and spent the next few hours exploring Thingvellir National Park.
Thingvellir National Park is stunning. It's the 'rift valley' between the North American and Eurasian plates. The Icelandic national parliament had meetings here from 930 AD until 1798.
We're standing on the North American plate. The Eurasian plate is in the distance.
We hiked up the North American plate. It had to get reinforced for pedestrians recently because it's literally moving and breaking apart, now. We hiked to a waterfall that spilled over the edge of the North American tectonic plate.
Thingvallavatn is in the background
We then completed the lovely and peaceful drive to Reykjavik. The population of Reykjavik is just slightly over 100,000 people, about the same as Santa Barbara and Goleta.
Our hostel was located pretty centrally, but was disgusting. The shower drains were clogged, the floors and the sheets were dirty, and the lights and outlets in our room didn't work. They charged ten dollars to rent a towel with a twenty dollar deposit. This is not the first time I was responsible for exposing friends to their first hostel experience and not the first time I failed at it. I'm all about hostels. But they're so hit or miss.
It was, unsurprisingly, also balls cold in the city.
We wandered around, hungry, and appalled at the prices of all the restaurants. Eventually we stumbled across a restaurant that advertised $18.50 bread bowls. Sold by their cheap price, we waited on the stoop to be seated in the cozy, dimly lit second floor restaurant. There were only two options on the menu: meat or veggie soup. I picked the veggie of course and got a delicious creamy mushroom soup in a soft breadbowl. We ordered beers on the side. It ended up being one of the best (and cheapest) meals we had. It is so lovely to have such a warm, hearty meal when it is so cold out.
Hannah had been hanging out in Reykjavik for a few days before Shaynie and I had arrived and was able to show us around. We went for a bitingly chilly walk around the city in the late evening twilight. Hannah took us to Harpa, a concert hall on the water. It's a huge, new building with a stunning glass exterior. We found a bench and a reprieve from the cold and watched the black water sloshing around in the marina.
Yes, I am wearing two coats, that is why I have two hoods
The next morning we dragged ourselves out of bed early to get to the church before it closed for mass. Reykjavik has a very large distinctive church. I am a huge sucker for aerial views of cities, so I was looking forward to seeing this. We paid ~$10 to take an elevator to the open bell tower. Wind whipped through the open windows. We had a 360 degree view of Reykjavik, the Atlantic Ocean, and the surrounding mountains. It was a cold, pale sunny morning. It was very peaceful overlooking the primary colored buildings. We could see the soccer stadium and commented on Iceland's upcoming World Cup debut.
The church bells starting swinging at 10 for mass and we had to leave. We took the elevator down, but not before I managed to drop the lens cap of my mother's expensive camera down the elevator shaft. (Sorry, Mom!)
We went for a brisk walk through the city and came across The Sun Voyager - a sculpture right on the edge of the city. We played there for a bit.
Paddling away
Testing out the wind
We got breakfast together at a local joint: tasty sandwiches, pastries, and coffees.
Hannah then dropped us off at the car rental and then headed to the airport to go home to San Diego. Shaynie and I hopped in our little white car and got on the freeway heading east.
