iceland road

One guidebook said it was an exercise in self-torture, but my friends and I were not dissuaded. We had eight days to circumnavigate a country, and we were going to take advantage of long hours of daylight to suck the marrow out of every minute. Starting in Reykjavik, we were going to circle the country of Iceland, from west to south to east to north, along the fabled Ring Road, and during a tumultuous time in the country’s history.

Once among the richest countries in the world, Iceland’s economy has completely collapsed in recent years. While it has wreaked havoc on the populace, for us it meant a favorable exchange rate and a chance to see a country that was formerly cost prohibitive.

And so we arrived in Reykjavik late on a Sunday night, spent Monday touring the city, and then on Tuesday morning we picked up our rental car, which would be our vessel of exploration as we toured the country’s vast landscapes. Iceland has a population of about 320,000, most of whom live in Reykjavik. We were about to push out into the largely unpopulated parts of the country, where a lone farmhouse might merit mention in a guidebook, and hours could while by without passing by another person or car.

This was truly getting away from it all. We started with a series of waterfalls as big as football stadiums, with waters so loud it sounded like a crowd roaring from far away. We saw the lonely stretch of land where the original parliament was established and spent hours on unpaved roads filled with rocks which threatened to puncture a car tire.

From there it was onto the wild southern coast, where black-sand beaches met the roiling ocean, sea stacks towered offshore, and birds nestled high above in precarious cliffs. To the east, a large placid lake sat surrounded by volcanic craters and moon-like terrain that smoldered with steam from the depths of the earth. Sulphuric vents released columns of smoke into the air, mud pits bubbled over like cauldrons, and rocks took on anthropomorphic shapes.

We came upon giant glaciers, gushing geysers, bays of bobbling icebergs, and gale-force winds. We saw wild ponies with long manes prancing by hidden turf-roofed houses, baby sheep learning to walk from their mamas, canyons rumored to be inhabited by elves, clouds shaped like flying saucers, hulking snow-capped mountain ranges, and multiple rainbows.

Up north, we visited the small town of Husavik, home to both the whale and the phallus museums, where bars served upside-down nachos, and parking was a breeze. We walked through Akureyri, the second-largest city in the country, and scanned the seas for seals in other small towns nearby. Dinner each night was usually scrounged from the grocery store. As vegetarians, we didn’t have many options but the country’s beloved skyr (a type of yogurt), cheese and pretzels, strange star-shaped paprika potato chips, and beer.

By the time we rolled back into Reykjavik, the rental car was on its last leg. A strange grating sound was coming from the rear right corner, and the steering column was loose, but on the upshot, the car did make it around the country, at times on unpaved roads where it had no business being, but it made it.

We spent our last day in Reykjavik taking a boat excursion to see puffins, the clumsy but adorable little birds that grace Iceland’s shores during summer. And then we went to the Blue Lagoon, perhaps the most famous attraction for tourists. These warm, natural geothermal baths are surrounded by lava rock and said to be filled with therapeutic properties. We rubbed white mud masks on our faces and wallowed like happy hippos in streaming 9pm sunshine, grateful for eight amazing Icelandic days.