Boarding Pass: KEF
Photo map of Iceland. Click on image for interactive map.
It was Thursday. Flights were wide open. It was going to rain in Nicaragua. These were some of the reasons we found ourselves in Iceland. The reasons we loved it were much more numerous and surprising. We didn’t stay long, we almost never do, but three days delivered enough intrigue that I’m already planning two trips back to keep in the holster for the next opportune Thursday.
Last minute location changes are part of our travel life. On multiple occasions I have planned a trip down to the photo map, hotels, and flights only to change destinations at the eleventh hour. As a result, I have a few trips sitting ready to go that are planned but not yet executed. Not Iceland, though. Aside from knowing that Icelandair has a nonstop flight from my home airport to Reykjavik, I had done no planning whatsoever for a trip like this. I am also not known for my great love of gallivanting around in cold climates. Until about 10 am on Monday, I thought we were going to Nicaragua for the weekend. When I checked the weather forecast and saw that rain was predicted for the duration of our potential stay, I started shopping around. Look at that, Icelandair had seats galore for the Thursday night flight. Game on, gears switched. Sorry, Nicaragua. Otra vez.
Loud and proud in Reykjavik.
I did have a clue that the Atlantic puffins might still be in Iceland before migrating for the winter. The operative word was might; it was late August, the tail end of the season, and they could leave any day. I learned that the world’s largest colony of Atlantic puffins spent the summer in the Westman Islands, or Vestmannaeyjar, which are located a 2-hour drive plus a 30-minute ferry ride from Reykjavik. Totally doable between our Friday morning arrival and Sunday afternoon departure. We opted to spend both nights in Vestmannaeyjabær on the island of Heimaey to maximize our puffin-spotting odds. An hour further past the ferry dock, there was another well-known puffin roosting location just outside Vik. Vik would be our eastern endpoint for our road trip, and I mapped out locations for us to check out along the way. Iceland being the sexy beast that it is, this was easy to do. The hard part was prioritizing, as we would be on the clock with a ferry to make in the afternoon. Challenge accepted, we grabbed our coats and hiking boots and headed north.
We arrived at the airport and headed to our departure gate. I took my phone out and saw I had a message from Icelandair, sent 30 minutes earlier, to the effect of “there’s a volcanic eruption next door to the airport, nbd, flights aren’t affected”. Interesting. Taking Icelandair’s word for it, we boarded and hoped for some cool views from the air.
Not to worry, the airport’s open.
It was not a spewing cone of a volcano, but rather a long fissure with lava percolating 20-30 feet in the air along its length. We were able to see it from the plane, and along the road as we left the airport. I took photographs out the car window as we sped down the highway toward Reykjavik, where we planned to have breakfast in the city center before heading east along the coast. Reykjavik is a compact city, and after breakfast at the super-cute Café Babalú, I was able to take photos of the famous Hallgrimskirkja (visible from the front door of the restaurant), Rainbow Street, and the Sun Voyager sculpture on the harbor in rapid succession. The sea was angry that day, my friends, making for some very moody, atmospheric shots. The wide end of my Canon EF 24-105mm L lens served me well for both city- and seascapes.
Sun Voyager sculpture at Reyjavik Harbor.
Enough urban indulgence; now it was time to get rugged. Iceland’s infrastructure makes this easy and accessible. Highway 1 along the south coast is straight, well-maintained, and incredibly scenic. Geothermal steam vents, Icelandic horses, mountains, and waterfalls are all right on the side of the highway. Trees are very sparse in Iceland, so it felt like the views went on forever. Each point of interest was well-signposted and provided parking. Around noon, we arrived at Dyrhólaey, a cliff opposite Reynisfjara Beach. This is a known puffin roost, and I hoped to get lucky by spotting some. I slapped on my Canon EF 70-300mm L and stepped out into the light rain.
One of my first puffins at Dyrhólaey.
Jackpot. They were everyhere. Sitting on the cliffside, soaring over the striking black coast. Neither of us slept on the flight up, so Jay was power-napping in the car while I scoped it out. When I went back to get him about 30 minutes later to show him the puffins, they had moved around the corner to a less visible area of the cliff. But I had the receipts on my SD card to prove they had been there just minutes before. I took a few photos of the sea stacks on the opposing beach, then we headed to the town of Vik a few minutes away for a few more shots and some lunch.
There are iconic shots that must be taken in many locations. The colorful buildings of Havana across from the capitol, the Avenue of Baobabs at sunset, even Rainbow Street with Hallgrimskirkja in the background. You know they will look like everyone else’s, but they will be yours, so you do it anyway. The shot of Vik from the cemetery on the hill above the town with the sea stacks in the background is one of those scenes, and I did my due diligence. Eyes on our ferry departure time, we dipped into the grocery store and grabbed some sandwiches to eat on the road back to Landeyjahöfn. I took my power nap as we sat in line to board the ferry, and enjoyed an espresso on the ride across. Batteries charged, I was ready for more puffin stalking by the time the boat docked at Vestmannaeyjabær.
Vik. Because you can, you must, and you will.
We rolled off the ferry and checked in at The New Post Office, an apartment hotel. I grabbed my gear and we headed to the southernmost point of the island where the puffins were known to kick it. There was another Icelandic icon waiting for us at the top of the hill: the wind. I’ve lived in some blustery places, but nothing like this. I now understood why the rental car place gave us such extensive instructions vis-a-vis opening the car door in the wind so as not to have it blown off. I got out and looked like a mime, unable to even walk forward. We headed back down the hill, intending to try again in the morning. Jay spotted a stile over a fence on the way down the hill, so we stopped, braved the gusts, and climbed over.
A puffin chilling on his front porch.
There they were. More of them than at Dyrhólaey. The technique for photographing puffins on a cliffside is to lay in the grass so you neither scare them nor, you know, fall to your death on the rocks below. Good advice in 80 km/h winds too, turns out. I slithered along the cliff edge snapping my shots, still unable to believe my luck. It was about 5 pm at this point, 11 total hours since landing at the airport. Hell of a first day in Iceland, if you ask me. We washed the salt, smoke, and dirt out of our hair, had a great dinner at The Brothers Brewery around the corner from our hotel, and crashed hard to recover from our day of travel and death-defying wildlife spotting.
A horse enjoys breakfast with a view in southern Heimaey.
Early to bed, early to rise. We walked out to the car to go to breakfast and found it absolutely covered in sea spray. This was a testament to the strength of the wind, as we were a good half mile from the ocean in any direction. After an appropriate amount of pearl-clutching at the thought of what this could be doing to my photography equipment, we rolled over to the harbor. We were at the coffee shop when the doors opened, prepared to drink all their coffee and eat all their pastries. Properly fueled, we stopped by to grab my equipment (no harm done to my glass, holla at my lens hood) and headed back to the puffin cliff from the day before.
My puffin homie on Heimaey.
The cliff faced east, so I knew I would have great light in the morning. Little did I know, one puffin in particular would choose to calmly sit about 20 feet away from me on the clifftop and pose for a portrait session. The crowning moment was when he took off in flight mid-burst. I could have fallen off the cliff then and died happy, but instead I army-craweled to the edge and photographed his neighbors on the cliff face. Driving back down the hill toward town, we stopped at the proper puffin viewpoint and joined other photographers and wildlife spotters in the shelter, watching the birds fly back and forth over the water as they fished for their breakfast. A few more scenic stops and some takeaway kebabs for lunch completed our outing.
He did it. He really did it.
The town was small, pretty, and colorful. So of course I wanted to walk around and take some photos of it. Jay wanted to rest his feet back at the hotel for a bit, so I went out on my own. The sun was shining and the wind had died down, so the weather was perfect for a stroll. It was a rare treat to shoot in a place where my safety was not in question. I could focus on my photography and walk around with expensive equipment in full view without fear. Dinner that night was at Gott, another fantastic restaurant right around the corner. The cozy atmosphere and delicious meal capped off our time on the island perfectly, and we headed back to pack for our early ferry departure the next morning.
This Icelandic flag has seen a few seasons come and go.
Our flight would depart in the afternoon, and we were only about two hours’ drive from the Reykjavik airport when we arrived at the ferry dock after the crossing. We were going back the way we came, which allowed us to whip on down on Day 1 because we knew we would have another chance to see points of interest on the way back. Our first stop was Seljalandsfoss, a waterfall just across from the ferry dock. We arrived around 8 am, just as the sun was coming over the top of it. Always a sucker for a lens flare, I went to the edge of the shadow where I knew I would find it. Slam dunk, count it.
Seljalandsfoss woke up looking like this.
Pulling back out onto Highway 1, I noticed a road sign with the Westman Islands shrouded in mist in the backdrop. Generous Iceland was at it again, giving stunning landscape realness every time I turned around. We cruised at a leisurely pace back toward the airport, stopping at Kerið Crater for photos and having a very friendly and tasty brunch at Byrja in Selfoss. We were seated by the owner’s father, who we later found out doesn’t even work there, he just comes by to help out because he enjoys it. The owner himself was just a friendly, and asked us questions about our trip and what we thought of Iceland. The welcome was as warm as my breakfast burrito, and we enjoyed the hospitality as much as the food. We pulled over at Hveradalir Geothermal Area and contemplated taking the walkway through the steam. However, the overwhelming smell of sulfur as we got out of the car made us think twice, and we decided that we didn’t want to smell like that on the 6-hour flight home. You’re welcome, seatmates.
One if by land, four if by sea.
Our last stop would be at the Bridge Between Continents, where you can walk across and into the rift between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates. Fortunately, it was not located along one of the roads closed due to the volcano. This thrilled my husband the geology fiend, who must have crossed between the plates dozens of times while we were there. And as a native of a city that spans two states, it was my duty to stand with one foot on each continent.
A 30-second intercontinental trip under the Bridge Between Continents.
Every trip has an impact. Sometimes a nudge, sometimes a jolt. Iceland was a meteor strike. My expectations were that I would see some nice nature and maybe a couple puffins. Instead, I was left reeling by the sheer abundance of mesmerizing scenes right before my eyes. So spectacular, so much, so close. How could all this be real, and how could it be so easy to get here? More importantly, how soon can I come back? My subconscious has an opinion; I have dreamed about Iceland almost every night since I left. Maybe the correct question is, how long can I stay away?
