This week, we feature an article by guest writer Sabrina Gaylor, who traveled to Iceland this past summer. Here she shares the mesmerizing sights of her visit. She receives a smashing Notes From A Cafe print for her contribution.
Lupine by Akureyri |
As amazing as Iceland is, it’s just one of those countries that gets overlooked or bypassed for more traditional vacation spots. I had the good luck of getting a chance to tour the country this summer, which I jumped at because the global warming crisis means that Iceland may not be the same in the future. My tour guide told the group as we passed Vatnajökull, the majestic largest glacier in Europe, that it was receding at a steady rate and soon would be gone.
Even if Iceland is just the white-outlined dot on the map next to Greenland, it turned out to be a much more diverse country than I’d thought. Reykjavik itself was very hip and urban, but close enough to the water and to national parks that it was possible to get away. The rest of the country was filled with bleak, endless, rocky plains and fields of moss-covered lava, volcanoes, eerily blue lakes, small villages nestled in between the mountains, and hillsides covered in waterfalls and lambs. At some points, we drove over unbridged rivers.
But there are perils of traveling through very rural areas. While our bus tour was en route to Landmannalauger (an obscure camping site more than a few hours from any pretense of a town), we came upon two Germans just walking along the path in the rain and hail without warm clothes. They explained—after we picked them up and drove them through miles of rough (though absolutely gorgeous) terrain, including humongous rivers that could never be crossed on foot—that their car had broken down and they thought it would only be a short trip. If our bus hadn’t come along, those tourists would have been in deep trouble.
Akureyri
The place I was most impressed with in Iceland wasn’t the well-known Blue Lagoon, the eerily beautiful (and cold!) iceberg lagoon near Jökulsárlón, or even the trendy streets of Reykjavik. It was the city of Akureyri in northern Iceland.
The bus tour I was on had been traveling across the bleak, cold, and empty Icelandic highlands for several hours. Even when we got to greener land, we were usually the only car on the small road. (When I say small, I mean small—Iceland’s main highway reverted to a one-lane gravel road in some parts of the country!) That day, it had been bleak and foggy and overall very dull, which contributed to why Akureyri, and the beautiful land surrounding it, came as such an amazing surprise.
Downtown Akureyri |
Akureyri, Iceland’s third largest city, gives off a quaint, Nordic vibe. The buildings look more old-fashioned than those in Reykjavik, and the beautiful setting below the mountains didn’t hurt at all.
The centerpiece of Akureyri is its tall, unique church, surrounded by flowers, in the highest part of the city. The main street is spotted with little shops—I stopped by one to buy some sheepskin gloves—and marvelous restaurants. The food in Iceland was incredible, though there were constant whispers about more traditional foods which didn’t sound half as appetizing. I think the best meal I ate was lamb soup at the Gullfoss restaurant near Gullfoss, a waterfall near Reykjavik.
But what was most appealing about the city was the surrounding scenery. Unlike most other parts of the country, the northern fjords were covered in vegetation. The steep hills were dotted with waterfalls (and sheep—the driver had to honk a few times to get them out of the road!). The whole place was incredibly mystical, like something out of a movie, an atmosphere which was helped by the shifting fog. In a place like that, it was easy to see how the Icelandic myths of trolls and elves had grown. My tour guide even pointed out a few formations in the mountains that looked like misshapen faces.
Akureyri, and northern Iceland, are definitely sights that no one visiting the country should miss. A precaution about this, though, is that only in Reykjavik are light-blocking screens routinely supplied for hotel windows. (In the summer, it’s as bright during the night as it is in the day.) Literally everywhere else I visited had only paper-thin windowshades, or at most small curtains. Unless you’re used to the light, I’d advise packing at least an eye-mask—it really helped me.
Practically 24-hour sunlight can be confusing, too: My dad will never get tired of telling of how my mother woke him up urgently one morning, at 9:15 am, saying that we were going to miss the bus, which left at 9 am sharp. He looked down at the watch, and noticed that it was actually three in the morning. She’d been holding it upside down, and hadn’t realized because it was so bright outside!
Myvatn
Okay, so I lied about the most interesting place in Iceland. If you’re visiting the country, you absolutely won’t want to miss the area around Myvatn. Although I have to admit that it wasn’t at all the most pleasant part of my trip (Myvatn means “mosquito lake” in Icelandic, and it’s aptly named; the place is literally swarming with mosquitoes), it stands out most in my memory.
The first clue I had that something was going to be different about this place was the subtle way in which the scenery changed as we approached the lake. The bus was suddenly surrounded by flat, jagged, brown lava fields, with ominous, thin-peaked mountains in the distance. Large, mosquito-like bugs buzzed and clicked around the windows. The faint smell of sulfur and smoke began to seep into the bus.
“Be careful,” the tour guide cautioned as I stepped off the bus. “There’s a hospital near here and I’ve had to take tourists there before.”
Bubbling mud-pit near Myvatn |
The red ground was covered in ominous-looking brightly colored turquoise-yellow patches (“Don’t step on those,” the guide warned hurriedly), some of which were smoking. Everything was smothered in horrible-smelling vapors—I had to stop moving once, it got so thick. The otherworldly landscape was made complete by the bizarre-looking bubbling mud-pits. But unfortunately, the stench of sulfur was so strong I couldn’t stay outside the bus very long (and had an aversion to hard-boiled eggs once I got home).
Nearby was a cheaper alternative to the Blue Lagoon, which I hadn’t gotten the chance to visit. Friends on the same tour said it was excellent—even better than the Blue Lagoon, actually, because of the bizarre, mysterious setting.
(The Blue Lagoon, which I saw on the last day, was something else I’m glad not to have missed. It was very relaxing and calm, and supplied mud that’s reputedly good for your health and skin. Even if it is Iceland’s main tourist attraction, it still is worth a visit. I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that it didn’t seem overcrowded.)
The area by Myvatn must be the most unique place I’ve ever visited and if I had the chance, I’d visit it again—but only for a day trip. There weren’t many places to stay in the area, and the sulfuric smell was bothersome.
Out of the Blue
Some of the other enjoyable parts of the trip were the most unexpected. On the last day of the tour, while returning to Reykjavik through bleak and for the most part uninteresting and unvegetated scenery, we made a surprise stop. From the bus, I couldn’t see a thing, and was dubious about going back out into the intense cold. But as I stepped off the bus and made my way closer, suddenly I saw it: an oasis of sorts.
The oasis |
It was a lovely, fertile, half-hidden area in the middle of the tundra; everything was overwhelmingly green, and there were lots of little paths darting around the rocks. I took one and ended up inside a small cave, which was exciting. It was a great surprise for the end of the tour.
Sabrina Gaylor is 17 years old and loves writing, especially fiction. She also has a fondness for anime and hopes to one day visit Japan, or at least make another trip to Iceland.
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