Packing up the life I had begun to build in England was difficult. It felt like there was still more time to be spent there, especially with the friendships that had started to form. Eventually, the decision was made and the flights were booked, with a stopover set in Reykjavik on the way to North America. Ryan decided to join me for Iceland, making the detour even more meaningful.
Ryan arrived in the morning and I followed later that afternoon, meeting at the KEX Hostel in Reykjavik. Dinner and plenty of back and forth followed before a simple decision was made. We booked a car a short walk from the hostel and headed south. My main goal was to see Jökulsárlón. Everything else felt like a bonus. Hiring a car saved a significant amount compared to organised tours and allowed us complete freedom to travel at our own pace.
Before leaving Reykjavik, we tried to find nearby thermal springs, hoping to stumble across a quiet bath. After following signs and searching without success, we continued south toward Höfn, where our accommodation was booked for the night, well past Jökulsárlón. The landscape quickly revealed how different Iceland truly is. Stops along the way included Seljalandsfoss and Skógafoss, both powerful waterfalls framed by wide open land. Each felt more dramatic than the last.
We kept driving, pulling over often to take in the changing light. With night approaching and fuel running low, a self service petrol station appeared on the GPS near Höfn. Filling up felt like a small victory. We reached the hostel late, grabbed a very late dinner in town, and collapsed into bed. It was also worth noting that this was my first time driving on the opposite side of the road in a manual car, having only recently obtained my manual licence back in Australia. It added another layer to the experience.
Exhausted, I was woken at 7am by Ryan announcing it was time to go. Still half asleep, I jumped into the car and we drove around Höfn as blue hour began to give way to sunrise. Oranges and pinks spilled across snow covered peaks that seemed to appear out of nowhere as we headed back toward Jökulsárlón, just under an hour away.
Jökulsárlón is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. Ice breaks away from the glacier and drifts into the lake below, where icebergs slowly float toward the sea through a narrow channel. On the other side of the road, the tide carries the ice onto the beach. The scene was calm and almost silent, broken only by the sound of ice gently clunking together as seals swam between the floating pieces, surfacing and diving again.
A short drive brought us to the opposite side of the road, where ice of every shape and size lay scattered along the black sand beach. Crushed, polished and glowing in the light, it felt like a place I might never experience again.
Walking along the shoreline, Ryan suddenly turned and asked, “When will we ever get a chance to swim with icebergs again?” I laughed it off at first, unconvinced. Ryan was serious. He ran back to the car for towels and boardshorts while I stood there wondering whether this was a terrible idea. We found a safer spot further along the beach. Ryan ran in first, with very clear instructions that I capture the massive iceberg beside him in the photos. The temperature hovered around one degree Celsius, with the water even colder. He was out quickly. I followed, diving into the waves and immediately losing my breath. I lasted only moments before sprinting back out. Ryan went in again for an even shorter second attempt before I followed suit. Frozen and numb, we dried off as quickly as possible and ran back to the car, turning the heater on full. The toes took the longest to recover. It took even longer to realise my socks were full of sand.
With frozen feet slowly thawing, the day continued westward. The drive back toward Reykjavik allowed time to complete more of the Golden Circle, including Geysir, smaller waterfalls along the way, and Gullfoss. Used to long distances from Australia, the driving felt manageable despite the changing conditions. The route led us to Mýrdalsjökull, where an afternoon glacier hike awaited.
Arriving just in time, lunch was grabbed at the café before meeting our guide and gearing up. Walking onto the glacier, I was surprised to see its surface covered in what looked like soil. It turned out to be volcanic ash from the Eyjafjallajökull eruption in 2010. Wearing crampons, we walked across the ice, climbing into crevasses and caves carved by meltwater. It was an unforgettable experience.
Late afternoon light faded as we finished the hike and continued on toward Selfoss for a well earned night of rest.
Morning brought clearer heads and a return to the road. Ice was scraped from the car before heading toward Hveragerði with new advice on how to find the hot river. Parking the car, we grabbed towels and boardshorts and walked roughly three kilometres through snow toward the springs. Steam rose ahead as boiling water bubbled up from the ground. Finding the right temperature took trial and error. Too hot, too cold, back and forth we ran barefoot through the snow, jumping between pools until finding the perfect spot where hot and cold streams met.
After soaking and walking back to the car, the journey continued toward Kerið crater lake, followed by Geysir and eventually Gullfoss. Catching the final minutes of daylight, the multi tiered waterfall roared through the canyon below, an impressive sight even in fading light.
Darkness settled as we made our way back to Reykjavik, keeping an eye out for the northern lights. The evening proved quiet, so we returned to the KEX Hostel and enjoyed the city’s nightlife instead.
The following day was spent exploring Þingvellir National Park, where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet. Snorkelling between them required a guided tour, which we booked for the following morning. Cold winds and light snow greeted us as we pulled on drysuits and entered the water. Floating between the plates in clear, calm water was surreal. Warm drinks followed before returning to Reykjavik for hot baths and one final northern lights tour. The aurora appeared faintly along the horizon, pale green and subtle, but visible enough to say I had seen them.
Packing up the next morning, I said goodbye to Ryan and took the bus to the Blue Lagoon for a final soak. By chance, I ran into Chris and his family, a Canadian from Halifax I had met snorkelling. He kindly offered a lift from the airport.
Soon after, I boarded the plane bound for Halifax, Nova Scotia.
I couldn’t wait.
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