Sagas and Mountains and Mystery Oh My!

It’s no secret that now is a good time to chill out in Iceland. After a recent economic crash and burn, the Northern European Island filled with magic, mountains and beauty is your next best travel bargain

By Karen Loftus

Budget travelers have long charted natural disasters and chased war torn countries, as the bargains are unbeatable and the welcomes are warm. Today’s recent disasters are also economic in nature. European and Asian shoppers were visiting America en masse last summer due to the wildly weakened dollar and the crashed economy. Next stop Iceland!

I always looked at the island, as the Ice Princess, an unattainable beauty that demanded too much dosh for my pocket. Iceland, like Tokyo, even topping today’s London, had prices that were simply off the chart. I was told you had to fill up on natural beauty, as you couldn’t afford much else.

I managed my way over to the icy Isle, prior to the well-documented and monumental crash. It was lovely, the calm before the economic storm and to my surprise, a bit of a bargain, even then.

I traveled with a very clever, travel savvy group, yet equally uniformed and ambivalent about why they were there and what at to expect. Sure geysers, glaciers, hydrogen cars, mineral baths, northern lights and whale sashimi were mentioned in the mix, but collectively, we were a blank travel canvas awaiting international scripting.

We wasted no time when we arrived hitting Iceland’s #1 tourist spot, The Blue Lagoon, which proved to be all it was hyped up to be. The milky blue, blazingly hot mineral rich waters set in a jet black lava like lagoon with a power plant subtly and seductively pumping in the background was out of this world.

Aside from the lagoon and healing clinic on site with a supermodel like pharmacist at the helm, there’s also a chic, Bond like restaurant with a futuristic view of the lagoon and power plant from the roof.

The mineral water is known for its healing qualities for psoriasis, arthritis and baldness as well as jetlag and hangovers. It cured our group of it’s ambivalence. One hour in, we got it. We knew we were in for something special.

We floated endlessly in the modern hot spot with muddy white silica masks on our faces stopping along the way for ten-minute water massages on rafts given by a guy whose name I couldn’t understand. One hour in to our trip we showed our worse sides to each other while Iceland showed us her best.
 
Our 90-minute drive to Glymur Hotel by the famed waterfall, Iceland’s tallest, was the first of many slideshows of Icelandic beauty, with snowcapped mountains, crystal blue lakes, an expanse of land and an ever-changing light that made no two pictures alike. I asked in advance if I needed to keep camera handy and jetlag at bay. I was told I wouldn’t miss much. Thankfully my insatiable side awakened me. I gasped as I caught the first of many phenomenal flipbooks inclusive of craters and otherworldly remnants of glacier and volcanic activity from yester year.

Ari, our guide was incredibly clever. He drove us around in his own creation, a hydrogen fueled bus. There was a lot of mystery as to how it was created and where it was headed, I think on tour from Russia to Antarctica or perhaps starring in it’s own documentary. He like our host at Glymur was completely off, in a good way. They, like the Irish, no surprise, considering the Celtic influence in Iceland, had a way with words and could tell a tall tale or a saga, but it was hard to decipher where the truth started, ended or if it ever existed. Best to go along with all elves and trolls talk, as it’s a big part of their heritage and Scandinavian mythology and will be referenced often.

After a stunning, yet witty walk hosted by the odd Ari in search of “trolls” hidden in Glymur’s hills I had a wine at their cozy bar before heading down hill to check out an old church with graves dating back to the 15th century. En route, I was completely soaked and swept up in a sudden storm, which is the norm weather wise. Pack for four seasons each day, as you never know. Once down hill, I was rewarded with not one, but two rainbows, another norm.

The hot tub with a view of the whale fjord was the perfect nightcap after Glymur’s feast of home made breads, lamb carpaccio and entrée.

Our first full day was an interesting mix, hitting villages and small towns in and around Reykjavik. We went to the Rehabilitation and Health Clinic for a soak and a mud bath, a comedic outing straight out of the I Love Lucy show. It was hot ,as in blazing and odd, but really good fun. The muddy wonder was followed by a swaddle in hot blankets that led to deep and meaningful sleep.

After a visit to an indoor banana plantation fueled by hydrogen power and finding a field filled with live hot and mud springs, our guide Ari had to one up nature by making a manmade geyser of his own with a little help from detergent. (Don’t try this at home.) This naturally led to other manmade wonders like The Viking Village and a Ghost Museum, which is full tilt in the kitsch department, all before the days highlight, dinner at the Sea Shore restaurant Fjoruboroio.

The misty beach walk was the perfect app before our feast, a bucket of mini lobsters, Icelandic beer and provocative conversation. It was a local and lively vibe and just as you’d imagine Iceland would be, a salty bit of seafaring bliss.

The day’s rain canceled out the morning fishing trip, so I went hunting for fashion. This is a relatively new concept as Iceland, a poor country for centuries until the early 20th is just finding its fashion footing after relying on their fashion forward Nordic neighbors like Norway and Sweden. Kamur, next to our hotel Centrum in Reykjavik had innovative fashion with many surprises and twists.

Resourceful Icelanders have long utilized every part of the animal, as a means to survive. Same rules must apply in fashion, where they effectively and fashionably utilize fish skins and horse (after they have died we are told) hair for belts, bags and shoes that any fashionista would proudly to step out in, complemented by their stunning loose knit sweaters, scarves and cutting edge coats. It made my fashion heart sing! I left begging for more.

Reykjavik is a fashion forward city full stop with an abundance of bars, lounges, live free music, design hotels and great restaurants for the globally curious and adventurous gourmands in search of a culinary experience.

Restaurants run the gamut from Orange, hip and stylish with local and global fare, the perfect artic char, sesame prawn and light creamy seafood soups. Lobster House is intimate, comparable to dining in someone’s home with whale sashimi, a novelty many try while The Seafood Cellar is one of the city’s stars. It’s super sexy, super loud and as much about the look as the taste. There’s sushi, sashimi, kangaroo (naturally) and lobster with foi gras and truffles in a Mason jar, clearly the table’s stand out, although the smoking desserts were a close second..

There are plenty of museums and cultural kicks in Reykavik. We were quite fortuitous in absorbing Icelandic artistry. We managed a wee visit in to a well known local’s personal art gallery while his famous pop star brother, the Beatle or Bono of Icleand, sang in front of his brother’s modern, landscape driven art. If we didn’t get that he was a big star. His shaded, sexy rock star exit tipped it over.

We kept the rest of the day simple with a stop at the futuristic dome that plays a prominent role in Reykjavik’s skyline and houses the city’s geothermally heated water and The Saga Museum. The museum is a great window in to their history, culture and saga lore, covering all, witches burned at the stake, Vikings and Celts, all presented in a very theatrical setting.

Our group battling with a wee bit of post meal ambivalence opted out of urban offers and instead hit the road for a ride on an authentic Icelandic horse. We were told there’s no better way to take in the scenery. No horse is ever brought in to the country and if one leaves, they can never come back. This unique breed much smaller and docile will gather, as a group with peaked curiosity on the side of the road in search of affection and attention, much like a lapdog, only prettier.

They are famous for tolting, a fast running trot with one foot always on the ground, which makes for a smooth seamless ride in the rain with a backdrop that looks painted. Once confident that you won’t fall, you really get that great disconnect from where you once were, a great gift in travel.

Last day, we went north catching an easy one-hour flight at Reykjavik airport, 10minutes from city center. It was so intimate, like flying out of a friend’s garage. Our guide picked us up in Akureyri airport; equally intimate giving us the quick, five-minute, obligatory spin through the city.

We stopped at Sel Hotel midway, a low-key spot with stunning views and a surprisingly inspired feast with the freshest trout. Then we were off to Lake Myvatn, in search of magic.

Keep cameras handy, as guides fly by worldly wonders while you wished you didn’t miss it. The Myvatn area is so rich with natural wonder. If it weren’t so soothing, it would be overwhelming. There’s that pristine beauty, Lake Myvatn, one of Iceland’s largest lakes. Iceland’s own psuedo craters, formed in a steam explosion when molten lava rushed over wetlands are nature’s art forms as are the Dark Castles, another area of lava formations and Hverfell a huge circular crater with a depth of 140meters.

What surprised me were table top like mountains similar to South Africa. They don’t get nearly as much fanfare, yet they’re no less wondrous. At every turn, I was without words. It’s one of the world’s great galleries.

We slipped in to the Nature Bath, the north’s version of Blue Lagoon, a bit more scaled down in style with a natural aesthetic and a n endless view I hope to never forget. It was amazing to look at the few locals around us. They do this all the time, grannies, babies, friends, couples and solitary singles were all present.

I took a break mid-soak for a massage by an onsite Frenchman. He was lovely and eager to please, yet oddly insisted on no towels. Why? Not sure. I felt very American as I longed for a thin strip of cotton, shredded or otherwise. Midway, I had to let go and go with the flow. When in Iceland act Icelandic or French or anything other than American. 

After watching Ólöf Hallgrímsdóttir pull geyser bread out of the ground where the earth’s hydrogen cooked it for 24hours, we followed her like loving puppies back to her café, Vogafjos where she served her fresh baked bread, her own butter and milk fresh, as in seconds freshly milked from her cows. If you arrive at 5:00, you can watch her and her 14 year old daughter milk her 16 cows while her crooked headed sheep, who favors humans over his own, as they shunned his uniqueness, looks on. There’s fairy dust in the air. It feels like a Disney movie, a good one.

When she invited us to her secret place that night we knew we were on to something special. We shook off our lack of sleep and carried on. As we pulled up to a dark dirt road, she left her car running, while we skinny dipped down and in to an underground cave and a few piping hot natural mineral baths, easily 20 degrees warmer than the previous lagoons and baths. Our cave was dimly lit by candles that she meticulously placed. That was the inexplicable magic we were all looking for. It was ethereal and dreamy…and made for the deepest sleep of the week.

As our chatty guide up north drove us to the airport the next day, he and we were silenced as we took in our final flipbook. He slipped in a CD of a local young artist; he claimed to be in love with. She was raised in Norway, classically trained in Iceland by a famous couple, an opera singer and a classical musician. Her Celtic like voice was angelic and otherworldly. We couldn’t understand a word she was saying, yet it was everything we were feeling.

The more I learned about Iceland, the less I realized I knew. Leaving behind all signs of ambivalence, I now know I want to go back and hit what I missed. I think now, I just may be able to swing it.  

How to get there?
Flights are reasonable with several daily nonstop flights from the US in as short as 4 ½ hours. Iceland Air flies direct from JFK to Iceland’s Keflavik Airport www.icelandair.com

Where to Stay: 
Hotel Glymur: www.hotelglymur.is,
Hotel Centrum: www.hotelcentrum.is
Vogafjos Café and Guesthouse: www.vogafjos.net

Where to eat:
Seafood Cellar: www.sjavarkjallartin.is
Orange: www.orange.is

More info:
Iceland Tourism Board: www.icetourist.is

PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KAREN LOFTUS – [email protected]