We fell in love with Iceland.

Our journey might have included delayed flights in Vegas, standby middle seats with our bags stuffed under our legs, diversions to D.C., hours on the hot tarmac with several de-boarding/re-boardings, six-hours of irritated wandering in the Newark airport, a lost checked bag, no hotels, no rental cars, a few hours sleep on the floor by the baggage claim, an Uber ride from Newark to Baltimore (when my mom somehow decided we had been kidnapped), and a budget airline flight overnight to Iceland (the latter being the most comfortable part). That doesn’t sound so bad, but it wasn’t fun. Hey, the privilege of traveling requires some pain! Iceland was worth it.

We arrived in Keflavik airport at 530am sans luggage and drove to Reykjavik, a deserted city at that hour on a Sunday. Borrowed a cooler for our travels from a sweet acquaintance of a friend and found an open bakery for a jet-lagged breakfast. After a sleepy shopping spree for a few groceries & necessities and our first obligatory gas station hot dog (it’s a whole thing) we continued on our journey around the island.

I’ll break down our travels by section of the country, mostly but not always in chronological order: The West, The North, The South, and The City (we didn’t make it to the east side of the island) with subheadings of the general areas or towns. Nuts & bolts later. We didn’t really plan anything specific but lodging. I’m not even quite sure which sights are technically on the “Golden Circle” circuit!

Happy vicarious travels.

Don’t worry, I can’t pronounce most of these words either.

The West

snæfellsnes peninsula & Kirkjufell mountain

We stayed in a tiny cabin outside of Borgarnes complete with an inflatable hot tub & homemade sauna with a private view of Brókarvatn lake. This was roughly an hour drive from Reykjavik. The weather was clear & wind unrelenting. The DIY cabin & relative remoteness (plus gale-force winds) gave us East Glacier Park vibes. Naturally, we felt right at home.

Our expectations of seeing Snæfellsnes were, perhaps, unrealistic as the peninsula is vast. Our time was cut short to just one day of exploring this area. Our first spontaneous stop was at a spectacular unnamed waterfall off the side of the road. A telltale sign of someone who just arrived in Iceland is one that stops at a random roadside waterfall. But hey. We had the waterfall to ourselves! We don’t discount off-the-map and off-the-guide stops. Those are often the best.

Our main destination of the peninsula was the quintessential “Iceland” scene: Triple waterfalls cascading down to a magical blue river with a background of the strikingly lush Kirkjufell mountain visible among high wispy clouds. You’ll see the photo if you google “Iceland.”

Well, we pretty much had the fairy tale except Kirkjufell was engulfed in thick cloud cover. We didn’t mind, all the more magical. Kirkjufell translates into “Church Mountain” appearing as a church steeple from some directions. My mom recognized the name immediately as her maiden name is Kirkland. I digress.

As the clouds lifted momentarily on Kirkjufell mountain.

My new rainbow tennis shoes were abruptly submerged in thick mud as we walked the path. Ryan graciously gave me a piggy-back ride through the lower bogs until we reached the acceptably wet, hardpacked trail into the mist. The path was peaceful, eerily soundless as we climbed up the switchbacks. We could only see the trail immediately in front of us, and then a dangling fixed rope over a section of slick, black volcanic rock. I might have shied away from continuing, seeing as my mud-soaked shoes had pitiful tread. But once Ryan, and another guy (also named Ryan) climbed up, that was enough motivation.

The roundabout trail took us from the ghostly calm to sideways wind & rain. There was a brief, abrupt section of crawling up drenched, gooey moss before the last little section of questionable rope. We sauntered across the narrow hilltop until reaching the perceived summit & peering down the cliffside into foggy nothingness. My supernatural Iceland fantasy. Check.

This was a backdrop in Game of Thrones.

We carefully maneuvered down the damp trail & rocks back to the bog. This is where (other Ryan, a robotics engineer) told us about the “penis museum” in Reykjavik which we obviously put on our mental to-do list for later. The waterfall scene (as described above) with Kirkjufell in the background did not disappoint, despite a sudden tour bus mini-crowd.

We were semi-soaked & the rain started pouring harder. We had a long drive to the North, so we decided to skip out on any other sights on the peninsula.

We went to the North next, but on our way back to the South stayed a night near Reykholt, outside the Snæfellsnes peninsula (not to be confused with another town named Reykholt). Because of our delayed luggage drama, we didn’t get much time to explore here…

Reykholt Horse tower

Horse Tower magic along with the ever-reliable Dacia Duster.

So, we can’t really comment much on Reykholt town, but we can comment on our unique lodging. We found a tower outside of town that was situated on a horse farm. The ground floor included a luxurious bathroom with heated tile floors, second & third level tidy bedrooms complete with horse pillows, and fourth level the actual tower with kitchenette and 360 degree views of the surrounding farmland.

We took a short evening walk with our glasses of wine to the river with a mini-geyser geothermal feature and no other humans in sight. The mesmerizing Icelandic horses with their 80s hairdos greeted us in their rich pastures. The slowly sinking sun radiated across the fields like the horse movies of my childhood. Fortunately none of the horses died in our movie.

The Icelandic horses, *íslenski hesturinn*, living their best lives.

Anyway, I’m sure there are plenty of other treasures in this area but we were thrilled with the one night in the tower, fulfilling our zombie-hideaway, horse-farm dreams.

The North

Tröllaskagi peninsula

If you look on a map of Iceland, find Akureyri first & then you can find the Tröllaskagi peninsula. Every little town here is on the peninsula with the exception of Húsavík (on the Tjörnes peninsula). I was drawn to our lodging outside Dalvik more than any other place, which led to incredible adventures in the North.

Hauganes

After Kirkjufell, we arrived in Hauganes (just 5 minutes from Dalvik). Hauganes itself is a teeny-tiny hamlet, but we stayed across a field from the main town in a converted horse stable. Horses are a whole theme here…

The shared housing, owned & managed by an artist and her son, was an aura. Every faded black & white photograph, every worldly knick-knack, every handwritten-in-pencil note from guests, every mason jar full of used paintbrushes told a tale. We hung our wet clothes in a room full of fresh laundry & drying Angelica plants hanging upside down from the ceiling.

Converted horse stable common room view from the book nook.

We soaked in the homemade hot tub with slippery algae and read dragon fantasy in the upstairs book nook while it rained. Ryan cooked chicken and vegetables in the shared kitchen & we ate outside in the frigid sunlight overlooking the Eyjafjördur fjord.

My only regret was not purchasing one of the traditional handmade woolen sweaters here.

We went on a morning whale watching tour with Whale Watching Hauganes on their “classic Icelandic oak boats.” The boats were beautiful & we secured a corner on the top deck. I wore every layer from my carry-on & the company’s obligatory bright cherry red full-body float coat. I looked like a kid ready for a snow-day. As promised, we saw numerous Humpback whales and a pod of harbor porpoises.

If we book a whale watching tour there is a 99% chance it will be overcast, cold, and windy. So it goes!

One of the humpbacks did one of those classic full-body dives, but unfortunately Ryan and I only caught the tail end (cough) and splash! Whale watching, as I learned in Maui, really is extraordinary. But, I was miserably cold & nauseous after about an hour & relieved when we finally headed to land via the choppy waters.

Nothing that coffee, a hot soak, and a book couldn’t fix.

dalvik

My heart.

My whole heart.

Our most beautiful day (weather-wise & otherwise) was in the mountains of Dalvik. We went on the Mosi/Grímudalur (aka “Yellow Path”) hike in the Upsadalur Valley. This hike received a “three boot” difficulty according to the local paper hiking guide. The hiking guide also listed numerous Icelandic place names which didn’t help. Just follow the yellow marked posts! Even then I think we did our own version of the hike, which added at least a half a boot to the total.

I officially support trails being ranked in difficulty by number of boots.

The valley reminded us of Lunch Creek in GNP.

We had the trail and the day to ourselves. But we weren’t alone, there were at least two hundred odd, wooly Icelandic sheep in the valley. We ascended another muddy path following the right side of a river, up a scree-mud hill to lime green meadows of miniature waterfalls, impossibly azure lakes with remnants of ice, and finally up barren rocks & snow patches. The summit of Einstakafjall was oddly warm as though heat was radiating from within. This planet was constructed of patchy, snow-covered peaks, steep green valleys, glacial-melt lakes, multistory, wispy waterfalls, the Eyjafjördur fjord in the distance, and the miniature town of Dalvik itself.

We lost the path on & off as clouds obstructed our sunshine but were always able to find our yellow markers again. We passed by Mosi where the cabin of a guy named Ferðafélag Svarfdæla is located, according to the local paper guide. (Goals! To be named in the local trail map). The obvious descending trail resulted in a semi-swift river crossing and more piggy-back rides through a bog. Ryan slipped in one & we both landed in the gumbo somehow unscathed. The sheep baaa’d at us (“dumb asses” no doubt).

A majestic day right out of a strange dream.

Akureyri

With no updates on our luggage, we decided to go to Akureyri on a rainy day for a shopping trip. Akureyri is touristy and the clear hub of the North. The central walking mall was full of cute shops & restaurants, but since we were on a mission we didn’t linger long.

We’d read about the 66 Degrees North outlet, although a local warned us that the quality of this famous Icelandic brand is debatable these days. Well, the outlet pricing was outrageous & the teenage sales staff looked like they would rather die than offer assistance (it’s universal). So, we ended up back at the tried & true Icewear shop (like the Icelandic REI). I’ve never found such a perfect pair of hiking boots in less than 5 minutes.

I’m sure there’s more to Akureyri than outdoor-wear shopping, but we discovered we were only an hour away from Húsavík…

Húsavík

A rainbow street brightens up a dreary day.

Húsavík is part of the Tjörnes peninsula, and a kind of a must-see in the North.

The Eurovision: Fire Saga film is set in Húsavík, along with the Ja Ja Ding Dong bar. The town is celebrated as the “whale watching capital of the world” but we’d already gotten our whale-watching fix in Hauganes, and likely for a more reasonable price.

Húsavík is a truly charming port town complete with their own small-scale rainbow street. The weather was crummy, but it was still clear why you’d choose this place as a movie setting.

The traditional hearty Icelandic soup is worth every krona.

The bar was more of a homage to Fire Saga & Eurovision in general, and certainly not the homey, blue-collar Icelandic bar portrayed in the film. They did not play Ja Ja Ding Dong to our disappointment & the staff’s probable relief. We also did not ask. We peeked into the quirky museum but decided we aren’t big enough Eurovision fans to pay thirty bucks. We spent the krona on a light dinner & Fire Saga-themed cocktails instead. And visited the movie-replica elf house in the yard outside.

The spectacular Goðafoss Waterfall was on the way home. Apparently when some guy decided the country should be officially Christian, he threw his Norse god idols into the waterfall. Goð is God, and foss is waterfall. So. Beautiful place for the idols to live!

We traveled back to the stables for our last night before continuing around the Tröllaskagi peninsula in the drizzle.

Siglufjördur

Looking down on the village with Lupine.

The scattered, sleepy villages of the north are out of a storybook. We took a short stroll outside of Siglufjördur in the clouds and then wandered around downtown. All buildings should be painted bright, primary colors, especially in overcast places.

A bakery door was ajar, revealing trays of freshly baked muffins. We followed our noses like a cartoon to split a cinnamon roll & sip almond-milk lattes. We arrived just before the town flocks.

Hofsós

The public park in Hofsós is where we discovered the superior playgrounds of Iceland. Dispersed around the country are rainbow trampolines, more like an open-air jump house. “Ærsbalgis are inflatable bouncy mattresses that are available in all kinds of sizes and shapes.” There is even an app to download a map to find these “jumping pillows,” which are apparently only inflated in the summer months. It’s a whole thing, but a true surprise for us.

Bonus: Zip line!

After our joyful play session (sans kiddos), we went to the Hofsós public pool. The clouds lifted & we even experienced a little sunlight as we swam in the infinity pool overlooking Skagarfjördur Fjord.

Just down a wooden stairway with rope-railing below the pool are impressive basalt formations. They too are out of a trippy dream or a children’s drawing. There are more popular basalt sites (this one doesn’t even register on most maps), but we enjoyed the quiet convenience.

We came for the public pool. The rainbow jumping pillow & the basalt formations were just the icing on the homemade cake, er, rye bread. We’ll get to rye bread later.

We had a brief stop at “Iceland’s oldest church,” the hauntingly pretty Grafarkirkja, before continuing on our way back to Reykholt in the West.

After the Horse Tower night (above), we had a vexing trip back to Kevlavik airport to retrieve our baggage after five days. Also made an unnecessary & accidental stop at Costco in Reykavik (spoiler: exactly the same as Costco anywhere). My journal reads: “Costco (dumb).” Moving on.

The South

Seljalandsfoss & Gljúfrabúi

Our first stop was Seljalandsfoss. We encountered our first real paid-parking, multi-bus-tour, human crowds. Not remotely as bad as Old Faithful in August. So. Seljalandsfoss was worth the hype, as we walked the path behind the falls to experience its booming energy & watch little rainbow reflections in its waters.

A maybe 0.8km/0.5 mile trail led us to Gljúfrabúi (Canyon Dweller) falls. We followed a partially hidden gap in the canyon through the creek. We were greeted by the coolness of the water mist and black lava cliffs covered in varying shades of drenched moss. The canyon was shady as sunlight touched the apex of the waterfall coming down over the cliffs. Photographs don’t really capture this well with the sharp contrast of light.

Hvolsvöllur

After a long day of driving (Reykholt-Kevlavik airport-Reykjavik-east on the Ring Road), we ended our day at a farmhouse lodging outside of Hvolsvöllur. The farm was right off the main road, down a gravel driveway and nestled below sheer, vertical cliffs of green. Far beyond that were mountains draped in white ice caps.

Ryan cooked in the thankfully empty shared kitchen. And I opened our long-awaited checked bag to reveal a bin of grits had exploded, showering every nook & cranny of the bag in fine, white crumbs. Grits are like glitter & we’ll be finding pieces for months to come.

Drangurinn í Drangshlíð on the left of the road.

After our veggie & ground beef-patty platter, we walked to Drangurinn í Drangshlíð rock formation that sits on the farm. Apparently, an Icelandic dude ripped out a chunk of the cliffs & placed the boulder in the field, where sod-roofed sheds were later constructed. Elves live in the caves of the boulder & used to care for pregnant cows who sought refuge in the sheds. The sheds are currently in a bit of disrepair, but still a popular (brief) stop on the Ring Road.

Fimmvörðuháls trek

This moss is the best for squishy, spongey naps.

We woke up early in our farmhouse to get a reasonable start for the Fimmvörðuháls trek from Skogar to Thórsmörk. The trailhead & parking starts at the famous Skógafoss which was crammed with camper vans, roof tent SUVs, and stand-alone tents in an open field. This was another moment along our journey where we both said out-loud “thank goodness we didn’t camp.” We happened to hike on the same day as a massive trail race, so perhaps the traffic was higher than usual.

Oh just another of the eighty waterfalls on this hike.

The trail took us up a rusty metal staircase and then to a traditional dirt pathway, meandering along endless rows of waterfalls. Eventually the trail racers caught up to us, which disrupted our solace. Without the trail racers, however, we would have never taken the “alternative” path following the red markers (versus the blue on an old gravel road). And the red-marker path was ours for the day, winding up and down lush meadows before climbing abruptly towards an eerie cabin in the mist.

Walking between the ice caps at the site of the 2010 eruption.

The pass between the ice caps of Eyjafjallajökull and Mýrdalsjökull appears non-significant on the map, but the distance is misleading. The Eyjafjallajökull volcano erupted in 2010, with massive air-traffic disruptions in Europe. We walked right through the eruption zone and crunchy black-brown lava fields before dropping down into the heaven of Thórsmörk, named after the norse god Thor.

The intermittent clouds & fog parted to the otherworldly valley with dramatic, gaping canyons, blue-white ice caps, impossibly viridescent fields. All this folklore about elves and magic, absolutely. Dragons? Sure. I mean, this is the place out of my wildest fantasy novels.

We took ages to descend with all the photographs and mini-pauses to delight in the views. We ate our stale, sour gummy worms on a ledge in a peaceful silence. I never wanted to leave that ledge.

Alas. We descended to the grounds and made our way to Básar. There was elaborate outdoor camping, complete with wall-tents for those with hardy vehicles for the river-crossings. We ate some overpriced coffee cake, a beer for Ryan, and a glass of prosecco for me. Mostly we wanted to warm up for a moment indoors while waiting for the river-crossing-equipped bus.

We ate a midnight vegan grilled cheese dinner back at the farmhouse before crashing. It was an exceptionally long day.

The next morning we chatted over a late breakfast with a badass young woman who schooled us on Icelandic farm life, dairy cows, and sheep herding. There is an event called réttir in the fall where everyone rounds up the sheep throughout Iceland before the winter. It is community-based, and you round up everyone’s sheep (not just your own) and then sort them out later. I absolutely love this whole concept, and now joining réttir in September is on my list.

vik

Our easternmost (spontaneous) destination of the trip was Vik. Vik is the only Icelandic name I can pronounce, and an enchanting little town. We went to Víkurfjara Black Sand Beach, which was strangely quiet on a late Sunday morning. Nothing more mesmerizing than wave-watching with the contrast of the white foamy waters on the tiny black pebbles.

We ate more hardy traditional Icelandic soup & drank black coffee at a darling cafe before walking a short loop around town. The Dyrhólaey Lighthouse, the southernmost tip of the mainland & a popular Puffin sighting location was only twenty minutes away according to our map. The lighthouse area was packed on a clear day & the Puffins were out en masse with their comical little waddle.

We paused at the salt flats for the pretty reflections with photogenic clouds.

Our last stop of the day was at Sólheimajökull glacier, which is a “tongue” of the Mýrdalsjökull ice cap that we walked past the day before. This is most certainly a hopping tourist destination complete with 300-krona (roughly $2) bathroom fees and advertised activities (kayaking, glacier climbing, etc). We completed the short out-and-back path before continuing on to our secluded, teeny-tiny cabin located in the middle of nowhere on several rough backroads.

Iceland was full of very late nights & semi-early mornings. At least we took a sauna break & left our cabin with clean laundry. I’ll save my commentary on European appliances for another day.

Landmannalaugar

If Thórsmörk is Norse god fantasy heaven, then Landmannalaugar is an all-natural, candy-land adventure.

There are entire blog posts dedicated to only the F-roads to get to Landmannalaugar. The F208 road, or Northern Route, just requires a 4x4 vehicle approved for F-roads and has no river-crossings. It was like any rough, pot-holed gravel road in Montana with more traffic, including buses later in the day. It was downright ritzy compared to the backroads in Nepal. Just make sure you reserve your parking in advance!

Ryan was originally going to rest up as he had been feverish and ill since the end of our Fimmvörðuháls day. But, alas. He got a glimpse of Landmannalaugar and was like, yeah, I’m not reading a book in the car.

There are numerous hiking options in the area, but we choose to do the Bláhnúkur and Brennisteinsalda loop (aka Blue Peak, Orange Peak loop). The main Landmannalaugar area is bustling with activity, cabins, toilet/shower rooms, parking areas. This is the typical starting point for the famous Laugavegur backpack.

We sped past other hikers to the Blue Peak trail, determined to get ahead of a group of Finnish teenage boys who ended up being from the states. I’m not sure why I decided they were Finnish. I was bursting with energy and poor Ryan was uncharacteristically desperate to catch his breath. But he rallied.

The 360 degree views at Landmannalaugar are striking from any point and fortunately we had a crisp day with high clouds. We took photos at a more-precarious-than-it-appears narrow rock outcropping & relished the views of Blue Peak over a snack of paprika-flavored Pringles. What a world.

We descended down the first peak, ooh-ing & aw-ing at the multi-colored hills with vents of steam rising and semi-hidden waterfalls. Then we crossed the razzleberry snowcone creek, through the black licorice lava fields, up to the fireball steam vent, and ascending to the orange dreamsicle mountain, Brennisteinsalda.

The long & gradual descent from Orange Peak to the northern meadows was like walking through an acrylic painting, the textures visceral.

Next through the mint meadows with cotton candy puffs of an unknown flower gone to seed. And finally back down to the base area where a hoard of people were soaking in the natural hot springs of the river.

We headed out before the bus traffic, admiring the last sights of Landmannalaugar along the way.

A few gravel roads later, we settled in another tiny cabin where a sweet, older woman named Elsa gave us a tour of our home in the woods. We soaked in our private hot tub in the rain. We went to bed exhausted and satisfied.

Laugarvatn

Fontana Geothermal Baths in the afternoon.

We booked morning tickets for the Fontana Geothermal Baths and what a delight! The varying warmths of pools were peaceful as the rain continued to drizzle. The “cold pool” was Lake Laugarvatn itself. I’ve jumped in plenty of chilly glacial lakes in Montana but I’ve grown wimpy. Well, the full submersion in the lake was so refreshing, followed by a pull of a metal chain attached to a bucket for a cool rinse, and then gradually soaking in the pools from warm to hot. The steam rooms are situated directly atop the geothermal feature, with that intense but oddly gratifying sulfur taste.

We completed relaxing circles: Warm pool, lake, warm to hot pools, lake, bucket rinse, sauna…For 2 hours. I’ve never been so relaxed and reinvigorated in my life.

Lunch was at the redundantly-named restaurant Lindin Bistro Cafe just a stroll from the baths. The lunchtime pack was not as jarring as the waiter slamming the kitchen door and holding his head and muttering under his breath in Icelandic. After curt service, “No you may not have decaf! Nobody asks for this and then this year, everyone wants decaf!” we secured a quaint window side table and were able to relax (sans decaf).

The waiter chilled out and we enjoyed our fresh fish soups and steamed veggies.

Ryan went to Thingvellir National Park to read plaques at a museum about 12th-century Icelandic law and history. I had zero interest in that, so I hiked up Laugarvatn Mountain. I accidentally bushwhacked which was totally unnecessary, before climbing up the cold & blustery path to views overlooking Laugarvatn town, lake, and the vast encompassing farmlands.

We ended up back at the now-busier geothermal pools in the afternoon to have a taster piece of rye bread with salted butter. The traditional bread, Rúgbrauð, is baked in the ground near the geothermal feature for 24 hours. The result is a scrumptious rye bread-cake.

(Yes, yes, I ate some bread in Iceland. The hot dog bun was a bad decision, but the rest was homemade. I think the U.S. just has too much crap in our gluten-containing foods. I digress).

The ground-baked rye and special Icelandic salted butter is everything.

We relished in the privacy of our last night at the cabin in the woods.

the city

REYKJAVIK

First stop was The Icelandic Phallological Museum. It is one of a kind. There were more preserved animal penises than I was prepared for, some mildly disturbing. The museum was quite educational, although (from a sexual-health provider standpoint) I was hoping for more awareness around sexually transmitted infections (STIs). Sigh.

Anyway, it’s a penis museum! Sometimes it took itself a little too seriously…but at least ended with folklore specimens including that of a corpse-eating cat (“for some reason the testicles received by the museum were shrunken and thus the natural size is estimated”). We skipped out on the artisan penis waffles at the cafe, but we did purchase a few tacky items in the gift shop.

We followed that by a juicy & delectable lunch at the downtown Messin Seafood Restaurant. The majority of our meals in Iceland were homemade by Ryan or from a gas station (far less expensive & the latter truly acceptable). But Reykjavik has some delightfully fresh food options.

Next up was a colorful walk down the famous Skólavörðustígur, or Rainbow Street. We just missed Reykjavik Pride, but there were still rainbow & trans pride flags everywhere and remnants of confetti. The looming Hallgrímskirkja (church) sits upon the hilltop at the margin of Rainbow Street. The architect’s design was inspired by Iceland’s mountains, glaciers, and pillared basalt formations. The area was swarming with activity, and, while much less overwhelming than most cities, still a bit disjointing after days in the countryside.

I love the brightly colored, corrugated siding.

We rested & read in our fancy flat by the Elliðaá River as it poured rain. Then had a delightful evening with my Icelandic friend & his adorable family. I hadn’t seen him in twenty years but it just felt comfortable to hang out & cook dinner together. The family had just moved countries with three kiddos, including a baby (no small feat). We were so grateful our timing worked even though everyone was bone-tired. It was a truly special evening & a trip highlight!

We ate breakfast in our enclosed porch before heading to the conveniently located Sky Lagoon. The main pool is extensive, with quiet corners and ocean views. The day was windy, cool, & rainy. Ideal for soaking. We submerged ourselves in the tiny frigid pool before going through the rest of the “seven step ritual” including a quiet dry sauna with floor-to-ceiling ocean views, cool mist showers, a full body salt scrub, a steam room, and hot showers. This part was a once-and-done experience, so we took our time.

It was our last day in Iceland, so we took advantage of celebratory cocktails at the swim-up bar in the rocks and soaked some more in the main pool. Although we each drank at least a liter of water, both Ryan and I felt the weight of gravity after finally exiting the waters.

We had our last dinner at Potturinn og Pannan: Grilled salmon & veggies, rack of lamb, a nice dry chardonnay, and vegan date cake with a royal coffee for dessert. There may have been another late night back at the flat including a washer/dryer fiasco where our clothes were temporarily held hostage by a rude automatic door lock…but alas, a few google searches and breaker re-sets later, we had our gear to pack up.

We never wanted to leave.

Our days were long, travel mishaps & adventures many, and lovely people & sheep numerous.

Thank you, Iceland. What a magical country!

Iceland: A Love Story.