When my partner, Maria, and I visited Iceland to tour its Golden Circle in December 2022, we were prepared for bracing conditions. It was only after arriving that we discovered this was the region’s coldest winter in more than a hundred years...
A frigid reception
As the plane descended towards Keflavík Airport, the view from the window was one of brilliant white as far as the eye could see. For a country called ‘Iceland’, this was nothing out of the ordinary, I thought.
A frozen Reykjanes Peninsula pictured as our plane approached Keflavík Airport.
On exiting the airport, we felt the cold air hit us like a solid object. The weather app on my phone told me it was -19°C – the lowest temperature we’d ever experienced – so it was a good job we were wearing six layers of clothing.
From outside the airport, we caught a bus to the capital, Reykjavík, on Iceland’s south-west coast. The roughly 45-minute journey treated us to breathtaking views of a snow-covered volcanic landscape set against the pale golden light of the setting sun.
By the time we arrived in Reykjavík – not long after 4 pm – it was already dark. We dropped our luggage at the hotel and went out to explore the city’s cosy centre.
As compact as Reykjavík is, moving around it was slow going given the frozen conditions. The hilly streets were particularly treacherous, and I lost my footing more than once on our way down to the waterfront, at one point even ending up on my backside…
Our courage and perseverance were rewarded, however, with our first glimpse – modest though it was – of the Northern Lights.
Gazing up at a modest sliver of the Aurora Borealis from Reykjavík’s waterfront.
As introductions to a country go, our arrival in Iceland remains one of the most impressive we’ve experienced.
Adapting to the elements
The next day, which happened to be New Year’s Eve, we joined a free walking (read: shuffling) tour of Reykjavík to learn about the city’s history and culture. It was also during this tour that we discovered the south-west of Iceland was experiencing a generational cold snap that had sent the mercury plummeting to depths not seen since 1916 – and there we’d been thinking this was just a typical winter in Iceland… Still, at least we were prepared!
Tjörnin in central Reykjavík. Geothermal water is pumped into this corner of ‘The Pond’ to ensure the local waterfowl still have space to chill in winter.
Tjörnin was so profoundly frozen during this historic cold snap that people – us included – could happily walk across it.
That evening, we headed out of the centre to Reykjavík’s Ægisíða coastline to experience a local New Year’s Eve tradition – the community bonfire.
Iceland: Land of Ice and Bonfires. A community New Year’s Eve bonfire on Reykjavík’s Ægisíða coastline.
We spent a while basking in the warmth of the fire among a gathering of locals and tourists. I then suggested to Maria that we walk along the coast to somewhere less crowded and write our New Year’s resolutions in the snow.
Alas, it was but a ruse. While my then-girlfriend was resolving to ‘read more books’, ‘eat more veg’, and the like, I was writing a marriage proposal.
As Maria squinted through the darkness to make out the words ‘Marry me?’ that I’d hurriedly etched into the frost, I was working to retrieve the ring that had been ensconced within six layers of insulation the entire day (hugs had never felt so tense). I decided against getting down on one knee – lest I, ring and all, be buried irretrievably in the snow – but she didn’t hold that against me. This was, if I may say so myself, a masterclass in adapting to the elements.
My newly confirmed fiancée and I then returned, giddy and aglow, to the city centre. Outside Hallgrímskirkja, Reykjavík’s iconic expressionist cathedral, we stood and watched the New Year’s Eve fireworks display – a customary, citywide celebration that felt as though it were just for us.
Fireworks illuminate the night sky over Hallgrímskirkja, Reykjavík.
Lagoons, icy coastline, and volcanic rock
On the morning of New Year’s Day, we rented a car – with four-wheel drive, of course – and began our Golden Circle tour. With Maria at the wheel, we set off for one of Iceland’s most popular tourist attractions: the Blue Lagoon.
Clouds of steam billowing in the distance tell visitors they’ve arrived at the Blue Lagoon.
Although tickets to enter the geothermal pool itself were sold out, we were able to visit the site and the surrounding area.
Who’d have thought tickets would sell out during a once-in-a-blue-lagoon deep freeze?
The Blue Lagoon’s public overflow pools.
Following a quick look around the Blue Lagoon, we continued our anti-clockwise route to the tiny south-coast fishing village of Eyrarbakki, where we were staying for the night. Passing through a canyon of snow to reach our accommodation – Bakki Apartments and Hostel – we dropped our luggage off and headed to Selfoss, the nearest town.
Snow view at all: looking out the window of our accommodation in Eyrarbakki.
A charming, old-style street in central Selfoss.
Crossing a festive-looking Ölfusárbrú – Ölfusá Bridge – in Selfoss.
A Selfoss scene that would make a lovely Christmas card cover – if only the snow had been falling more gently…
Since there wasn’t a lot going on in Selfoss on that unusually freezing New Year’s Day, we took pizzas back to our accommodation and later went for an evening stroll along the icy Eyrarbakki coast.
Eyrarbakki’s snowy shoreline at night.
The same beach in the daytime.
Late the next morning, we left Eyrarbakki heading inland to the village of Flúðir. On our way, we stopped at the Kerið volcanic crater lake, which, to no one’s surprise, was entirely frozen over.
The tiny figures of visitors standing on the opposite side of Kerið Crater reveal its sheer scale.
Having circled the crater to take in its impressive scale from every angle, we resumed our journey and arrived in Flúðir shortly afterwards. There, we left our luggage at the guesthouse we’d booked for the night. We then headed to the nearby Secret Lagoon – Iceland’s oldest swimming pool.
Learning from our mistake with the Blue Lagoon, we’d booked tickets a day in advance. Nothing was going to stop us from experiencing our first geothermal bath – not even the weather. In fact, the sub-zero atmospheric temperature made soaking in the hot spring feel especially luxurious. Abandoning the water’s warm embrace for the freezing-cold air, however, was hellish.
Still, that didn’t deter me from partaking in the local custom of climbing out of the pool and jumping straight into a pile of snow (eek!). In my eagerness to plunge back into the water after one such snow bath, I slipped on the slickened boardwalk and landed flat on my back (ouch!).
Overall, though, our visit to the Secret Lagoon was thoroughly enjoyable and more than made up for our missing out on its Blue counterpart.
A fjall, falls, and frozen facial hair
On our fourth day in Iceland – the second of our Golden Circle tour – we headed north from Flúðir to the Haukadalur Geothermal Valley. Our first stop was at Strokkur – the country’s most active geyser.
The steaming terrain of the Haukadalur Geothermal Valley.
Arriving at the site, the first thing we noticed was the smell of sulphur. While the geothermal pools we’d visited share this odour, theirs is significantly milder. At Strokkur, we encountered a potent, rotten egg-like stench I was familiar with from my visit to Rotorua in New Zealand.
Fortunately, our senses were soon distracted by the geyser erupting right before our eyes.
Watching as the huge jet of water and steam shoots overhead is an awe-inspiring experience. Yet the Geysir Geothermal Area has plenty more to offer than that. We clambered through thick snow to the top of Laugarfjall for sweeping views of the valley.
A volcanically heated stream cuts through the thick snowbanks at the base of Laugarfjall.
Upon reaching the fjall (mountain) summit, we waited to watch another eruption from our elevated vantage point. I just happened to be filming the surrounding area at exactly the right moment to capture the explosive conclusion to the below video. (All right, it may have taken me more than one attempt…)
Next, we set off for Gullfoss, pausing briefly to greet some friendly Icelandic horses en route.
Icelandic horses coming to greet us in the snow.
Less than half an hour later, we were standing in front of one of Iceland’s most powerful waterfalls.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as cold as I did at Gullfoss. Wearing hybrid glove-mittens, I took photos and videos in short bursts before covering my fingers again and thrusting my hands into my pockets. The air was biting, but the stunning views were worth the pain.
From Haukadalur Valley, we headed south-west to the lakeside village of Laugarvatn. There, we visited Laugarvatn Fontana, where we enjoyed a drink while looking out over the geothermal pool and the lake beyond.
Lake Laugarvatn as viewed from Laugarvatn Fontana.
By the time we left Laugarvatn Fontana, our stomachs had started to rumble. We found ourselves drawn towards the neighbouring Lindin Restaurant, which, glowing brightly in the snow, looked irresistibly inviting.
How could anyone resist this?
The meal turned out to be every bit as special as the setting. I ordered a delicious fish dish while Maria opted for Lindin’s famous reindeer burger. Rudolf fans may prefer to steer clear, but I’d recommend the restaurant to anyone passing by Laugarvatn. (Veggie options are available.)
After dinner, we proceeded to our accommodation – Brú Hotel, near Lake Úlfljótsvatn – where we sat in a geothermal hot tub overlooking the snow-covered countryside. That I was able to lounge there in complete comfort, blissfully unaware as the steam formed crystals in my moustache and eyelashes, highlights the contrast in temperature between the water and the air outside. The moment encapsulated the duality of the Land of Fire and Ice, and was the perfect way to conclude our penultimate night in Iceland.
Þingvellir: where parliaments assembled and continents divide
On the final day of our Golden Circle tour, we arrived at one of Iceland’s most important locations – Þingvellir National Park. This Unesco World Heritage site derives its name from its former purpose: Þingvellir (Thingvellir) is Icelandic for ‘Parliament/Assembly Plains’ – and from 930 to 1798, the area served as an open-air assembly point for Iceland’s Alþingi (parliament).
Þingvellir is not only historically significant; it’s also a geological marvel. The walk from the visitor centre car park took us down into a continental divide, where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates are separating, pulling Iceland apart by an average of around 2.5 centimetres per year.
Passing north through Almannagjá Gorge, we turned a corner in the canyon wall to reach Öxarárfoss – a 13-metre waterfall that had been rendered utterly silent by the once-in-a-century freeze.
Then, we forged north into the narrow, towering gorge corridor of Langistígur. Known informally as ‘Dead Man’s Walk’, this is where men were executed for capital crimes by hanging or beheading, while those accused of witchcraft were burned nearby. The site is just 15 minutes or so north of Drekkingarhylur, the ‘Drowning Pool’, where women were drowned as punishment for crimes including adultery and infanticide. As if the extreme cold weren’t enough to make you shudder…
The towering basalt walls of Langistígur – a magnificent site with a sinister past.
From Langistígur, we doubled back towards Lögberg. There, we read plaques detailing the history of ‘Law Rock’ – the site of the world’s first parliamentary assembly.
Later, standing on the valley ridge, we gazed out over the snowy graben. Nestled there between the Öxará River and the shrubbery-covered plains beyond are Þingvallakirkja (Thingvellir Church) and the four-roofed Þingvallabær, the Icelandic Prime Minister’s summer residence.
We continued along the ridge for a while, taking in the sweeping views of the valley, then descended back into the gorge and on to the open valley floor.
The Almannagjá fault line pictured from the high trail on the North American side.
A frozen Þingvallavatn pictured from atop the valley ridge in the low-lying afternoon sun.
Down by the river, we took a closer look at the church and the surrounding geological features. At this level, the tectonic rifts are normally filled with crystal-clear water, but we found them choked with solid ice.
The ice-filled Nikulásargjá fissure, with Þingvallakirkja peeking over the snowy hillside in the distance.
Þingvallakirkja up close.
The deep tectonic chasm of Flosagjá in the afternoon sun.
The sun sets on our Golden Circle tour
With the sun now hanging low over the horizon, we got back on the road bound for Reykjavík. The brilliant blue sky above the dazzling white tundra made for a fittingly epic backdrop to the final leg of our Golden Circle tour.
Our route back to the capital took us along the shores of Þingvallavatn. At the lake’s south-western reaches, we stopped to feast our eyes – and ears – on the icy expanse before us.
By this point, the horizon had taken on a pink hue that gave the frosty landscape an otherworldly feel. The sun was – quite literally – setting on our time in Iceland.
After returning the car to the rental company, we headed to our guesthouse in the suburbs of Reykjavík. Early the next morning, we took a shuttle bus from outside a nearby hotel to Keflavík Airport, where we caught our flight back to Manchester.
We’d arrived in Reykjavík ignorant of the era-defining deep freeze the region was experiencing. Yet thanks to Maria’s excellent driving and our cautious approach to layering, we adapted to the extreme conditions – not counting the odd slip and slide – and had the time of our lives. We left as a newly engaged couple, with the conviction to return to this spectacular country at some point in the future. When exactly that will be, we don’t know – but something tells me it’ll be in the summertime…
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