Iceland wasn’t just a trip – it was a connection with the planet. Every day felt like the land was speaking directly to me, in whispers of steam, roars of waterfalls, and the quiet hush of moss-covered lava fields.
I arrived with a packed lunch and a heart full of anticipation. The first thing I noticed was the light – soft, golden, and somehow timeless. Even the air felt different, like it had stories to tell. My first steps were slow, deliberate. I wasn’t rushing to see things. I was letting Iceland show itself to me.
The Blue Lagoon was my first real immersion – literally. Floating in warm, mineral-rich water while the wind brushed my face was surreal. It was beautiful, yes, but also a little strange. Industrial buildings loomed nearby, reminding me that even paradise has its complexities. Still, I felt held. Like the earth was cradling me.
Driving through the Golden Circle was like flipping through a geography textbook come to life. Thingvellir National Park was hauntingly beautiful. I walked along fault lines where continents drift apart, past waterfalls and ancient churches. Strokkur geyser erupted like clockwork, and I found myself laughing every time it surprised me. Gullfoss was thunderous and majestic, a reminder of nature’s unapologetic power.
The South Coast was soaked in wonder. I walked behind waterfalls, stepped into hidden caves, and climbed hundreds of steps to gaze down at Skogafoss. My boots were constantly wet, my coat always damp, but I didn’t care. I was alive in every sense of the word.
Then came the glaciers. Jokulsarlon and Diamond Beach were heartbreakingly beautiful. Icebergs drifted like forgotten dreams, and the black sand sparkled with frozen light. I stood there, quiet, letting the cold seep into my bones and the beauty settle into my heart.
Eastern Iceland was gentler. Rainbow roads, sleepy towns, and waterfalls tucked into hillsides. Seydisfjordur felt like a secret I was lucky enough to stumble upon. I wandered its streets with a pastry in hand, smiling at strangers who smiled back.
Northern Iceland was wild and raw. Lava caves, steaming geothermal fields, and volcanic craters. It was the kind of place that reminded me how small I am – and how lucky I am to witness it. Godafoss was breathtaking. Akureyri charmed me with its quirky shops and cozy cafés. And HvÃtserkur, that lone rock in the sea, felt like a monument to solitude.
Reykjavik was our final chapter. A city full of color, character, and quiet joy. We walked the Rainbow Road, visited Hallgrimskirkja, and ate lobster soup at Seabaron. I watched the sun dip low over the harbor, knowing our time was almost up.
On my last day, I sat in a quiet café, sipping hot chocolate and watching the world go by. Iceland had changed me. Not in loud, dramatic ways—but in quiet, lasting ones. It reminded me to slow down, to listen, to be present.
I didn’t just visit Iceland. I met it. And it met me back.
(For Sally’s full itinerary, accommodation details, and day-by-day breakdown of her Iceland adventure, head over to our Members Only section. It’s packed with tips, maps, and insider notes to help you plan your own unforgettable journey or to live vicariously.)