Well, the Icelandic rain finally caught up with us on the day we were driving the Golden Circle, making it a bit more grey but also a bit more "real Iceland" than it would have been had we set off on a bright, blue sky day. More Bjork Homogenic than Post, and suitable for any Sigur Ros (who--in a piece of exquisite timing--we'll be seeing June 6 at the Anthem).
But first, brekky! I found a coffee shop down the street that was so cool, it's in its name: Emille and the Cool Kids. Ned ran out in the drizzling morning to grab bagels (or beyglur, which seems both so cute and a secret Beyhive reference), pastries, and coffee. The cinnamon roll was particularly good--I'm eating the leftovers this morning as I write this blog. Yum!
Then, we grabbed all of the rain things and our swimsuits in case we made it to the Secret Lagoon before it closed (spoiler: we didn't) and raced down the rainy roads to pick up Penn's sunglasses at the "horse garage" (TM Harper Davis) before hitting the Golden Circle.
While the distance in kilometers between places in Iceland is not terribly long (it is fairly small island nation home to fewer than 370,000 people), the two lane, roundabout strewn roads make every trip about twice as long as one would expect on any basic highway in the US. And, there aren't that many paved roads, which is one reason why we drove past this sign for the "Kevin Bacon" burger about a dozen times. Trust me--the photo is blurry but that's what it says, and it's really named after the Kevin Bacon. It's served at a restaurant called "American Style," and you can find a review
here. In our experience, in Iceland a restaurant that says it's American style serves sad, parodic food, like how Olive Garden must feel to Italians who are trying to understand how their food culture got reduced to endless breadsticks.
The sky in the background followed us all day, though the rain seldom rose above a light drizzle. The further we got from Reykjavik, the more we climbed up into the mountains, where the clouds rested on the flattish peaks. This early in the summer, the greens up here are still very brown, and even without the rain, everything would seem muddy and damp because of the melting snow banks--see the impromptu lake. I wondered how thick the snow was in the heart of winter to still be evident at the end of May, given that the earth is slightly heated by the geothermal heat pulsing just beneath the surface. No wonder those Icelandic horses are so thick!
Our first stop was Thingvellir National Park. Even in the best of weather, we're not hikers, but Iceland has thought of that and helpfully put information desks, gift shops, platforms, and--thankfully--WCs at all the major Golden Circle attractions. At the park, a helpful guide mapped out our trip, so we doubled back to see the Mid-Atlantic Rift created by the separation of two tectonic plates, which results in the Almannagja fault and gorge.
In the pictures Ned found of the fault, the guy was standing with a foot on each plate--the North American and the Eurasian--but when he asked the guide about where he could do this, she laughed. Even at their closest they're about 16 feet apart and are centimetering further apart each year. Ah, photoshop.
One can walk all the way down from the top of the gorge to the bottom, but we only went about halfway. First, we took a photo for a mom, dad, and supercute bundled and bjorned baby. They were not from America, but he was wearing a Nationals hat he picked up on a trip to DC. We immediately agreed baseball is not a great sport--this could be a new diplomatic approach, by the way, countries finding a path to resolve disputes by bonding over how boring baseball is.
The weight of these plates and the force they wield seems even more impressive when they're dark from the rain and seem almost alive.
Family snaps--note, going to Gov Ball prepares one for anything, including Icelandic storms. Actually, a few plugs are in order given the weather we predicted and encountered: the Old Navy tech joggers I got on sale for this trip were like dream pants--light weight, quick dry, and absolutely wind resistant; the super-light and easily packable Lands End parkas Harper and I got on clearance (hence the highlighter color of my coat) were crazy warm and water resistant with hoods that stayed put; and all of us got hiking sneakers, typically on sale, which were also a great purchase.
When we visited the gift shop and history center, Ned found that the original story of the founding of Iceland back in the day involved a lot more than the pen and paper of the 1900s, as shown in this Adventure Time-esque image.
Back in the car for another hour to get to the second of the three big Golden Circle stops: Geysir. More atmospheric scenery along the way:
Including--every once in a while--unmelted snow banks running along like lines of decorative icing.
The Geysir geothermal stop on the Golden Circle is a bit of a misnomer. The actual Geysir has not erupted on a regular basis for decades. It apparently did let loose one time in 2016, and that's it. The real attraction, beyond the bubbling pits of boiling mud and water, is the other geyser, Strokker, which is like the Old Faithful of Iceland. It erupts about every 5 minutes.
The heat and sulphur eat away at the rocks closest to Strokker, turning them a milky white. And everyone's warned not to touch the water--but I saw about two dozen people during our time there dunk their hands right in it. Idiocy knows no country borders.
The scent of sulphur (or rotten eggs) that comes with our apartment's hot water is magnified by about a thousand here. We first got a whiff of volcanic gasses on our trip to New Zealand. Harper didn't like it then, and hates it now.
This region of Iceland also really leans into its historic sport, a version of wrestling called Glima. It traces its roots back to the settling of Iceland and remains an all-male sport. There's a wrestling statue and videos in the ritzy Welcome Center, which doubles as a shopping outpost for the Icelandic brands Geysir (which closed its other stores during the pandemic) and 66 North, and the newer chic luxury hotel onsite includes decorative references to the sport in its lobby. Nearby, we found a rented camper van with references to all things Icelandic but Glima.
Penn found some cool coats, and Harper noticed a real restaurant in the vibe-y Geysir Hotel. It seemed to offer a good gf selection, so we got a table. Again, Icelandic service was glacial--we were there three hours!--but the views were lovely, the food very good (except an undercooked chicken thigh I had to send back), and the wifi was free (which I used to secure my place in line for Harry Styles tickets and after a million attempts, get two for Ned and I!).
Next stop--Gullfoss! The name translates to gold falls, which might describe it on a sunny day. When we arrived, the winds were whipping and cold, and while it was still very light out, the clouds meant no golden light. It's probably time to drop in a sidebar that, as former Upstaters who drove past Niagara Falls on a regular basis on the way to Toronto and saw the Falls in every season (including frozen in winter), we may have a different water fall impressiveness scale that most visitors to Iceland. Still, this one was lovely.
Our last stop on the circle was Kerid, a volcanic crater lake that's several thousand years old and absolutely beautiful. The bright red soil plays off the deep green vegetation the crater's deep sides that run down to the perfect teal of the water. Simply gorgeous. And, because of the conditions, time of day, the still recovering Icelandic tourist industry, we almost had it all to ourselves.
There's a trail along the whole of the crater and another that takes you all the way down to the lake, but after about nine hours on the road that day, we only walked one quarter of it and paused for a while to take in the beauty.
We stopped at the Extra around 10 pm to buy extra dinners for the night--all this light makes you hungry--and settled in for the evening, another incredible Icelandic day in the books.
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