Over the course of the 91 days we spent in Iceland, we saw more otherworldly nature than in the rest of our lives combined. This tiny country on the northern edge of the Atlantic Ocean is one of the most special places on Earth, filled not just with unforgettable outdoor adventures, but with wonderful little towns and some of the friendliest people we've ever encountered.
The daylight hours were growing shorter, but we took our leave of Iceland before the true onset of winter, when the country would be plunged into a period of almost unbroken darkness. For us, Iceland was all about the light. A light which powered long summer days. Which illuminated vistas of mountains, fjords and waterfalls. Which fought through clouds to reflect off a glacier and momentarily blind us. This light, shining on a country that didn't need anywhere near 91 days to work its way into our hearts.
Precariously situated in the middle of an active geothermal area southeast of Reykjavík, Hveragerði makes for an easy excursion from the capital. During our visit, we explored hot springs, ate an geothermally-cooked egg and treated our feet to a therapeutic mud bath.
Without exaggeration, I think waterfalls might outnumber people in the Westfjords. Fed by the massive ice blocks which dominate the highland interior, and coursing down the mountains toward the shore, there seems to be another waterfall around every corner. Some are trickles, some mighty cascades, but the most impressive we saw throughout our time in the peninsula was easily Dynjandi.
It's hard to imagine what life must have been like in tiny Suðureyri prior to 2001 and the completion of the tunnel connecting it to Ísafjörður. Today it's just a twenty-minute drive, but before the tunnel, Suðureyri was connected to the outside world only by boat.
Memorably situated on a narrow spit of land which nearly cuts the Skutulsfjörður fjord in half, Ísafjörður is by far the largest town in the Westfjords. Not that it's terribly large; just over 2700 people call it home.
The three of us laced up our boots and started off in high spirits, excited for a day-long hike through the Hengill volcano range. A few hours later, I was alone on the top of a mountain, terrified and shouting until my throat was raw. This was supposed to have been an easy day out. Where had it all gone wrong? And where the hell was Brandt?