A Rainy Sojourn at Mývatn: Nature’s Enchantment
On a rain-soaked afternoon in northern Iceland, we glimpse the green-grey expanse of Mývatn unfolding before us as we crest a hill. Through the mist and the steady drizzle, the lake appears almost hypnotic, thanks to the relentless rhythm of our windshield wipers. As we glide down a slick stretch of Route One and pull over by the shore, the scene is nothing short of mesmerizing.
Mývatn may not be Iceland’s largest or deepest lake, but it is certainly one of its most breathtaking, nestled amidst a wild tapestry of nature. Crumbling pseudocraters rise from the landscape, brooding over the moss-covered lava fields they’ve shaped. In the air above, a flurry of birds spiral and flit through the underbrush, drawn to the abundant midges and thriving shallow waters below. The surface of the lake is lively, rocky stacks jostling in the choppy waves stirred by the persistent breeze.
As I take in the landscape—the sound of raindrops pattering onto grateful flora and the bare earth—my breath catches in my throat. Like much of Iceland, this spot reveals its grandeur even in the worst of weather, and amid this summer tempest, Mývatn possesses an undeniable allure.
Contrasting Shores
The northern and southern shores of the lake present strikingly different personas. We first navigate the northern coast, where the shimmering Ring Road cuts through rolling farmlands. Here, sodden sheep huddle among the hillocks and playful lambs frolic in the rain. Limited pull-offs encourage us to take it slow, leaning close against the steamed windows. Everywhere we look is a feast for the eyes—towering red, conical mountains of tephra and ash, plumes of geothermal steam break through the rugged terrain, and then, of course, the lake itself. As the road dips to water level, it feels as though we’re gliding across silty waves alongside the screeching gulls.
On the eastern side of the lake, the road snakes through a fractured lava field before leading us to Reykjahlíð, a tranquil village that serves as a hub for the region. It’s nestled near the Hverir geothermal area, where the landscape transforms once again—muted greys and greens giving way to wide swathes of vivid umber and blood-red soil. Busloads of tourists meander through Hverir, now enhanced with wooden walkways since my last visit five years ago. Despite the throngs and the tourist infrastructure, the beauty here remains unspoiled, with sulfurous fumaroles billowing steam into the damp air.
We finally catch a break in the weather at the Mývatn Nature Baths. The pool is sparsely populated, with clusters of chattering tourists snapping selfies and enjoying drinks from a swim-up bar. With the majority of the pool to myself, I glide through the warm waters, seeking the hottest currents. After a good half-hour, the skies darken once more, and raindrops begin to dance on the milky surface. We towel off, refreshed, and resume our journey.
A Landscape of Legends
The road winds south past Dimmuborgir, or “dark cities,” a hiking haven renowned for its striking black rock formations. These dramatic features tell a story of ancient lava flows over wetlands and lake shallows, their violent encounters resulting in a series of rare formations that seem almost otherworldly. In the drizzle, the jagged pillars resemble disembodied fingers reaching skyward, lending Dimmuborgir an aura that feels decidedly epic.
Next, we arrive at Höfði, a surprising pocket of greenery that juts into the lake. A few trails weave through the area, leading to various viewpoints. Here, among the leafy paths, the light shifts to a deeper green, and the birdsong swells. At the tip of the peninsula, wilderness unfurls in every direction, and I feel Mývatn’s unique energy pulsing through my bones—it’s as if nature itself is drawing me in.
An Evening Retreat
As evening descends, the dimming light and darkening clouds signal a shift. We return to the car, cranking up the heater while scanning our phones for dining options. The quirky campsite pizza place near Reykjahlíð, or a tempting fish and chips spot, both promise to be closed by now. So, we buckle up and head towards Bistro Sel, a comforting oasis.
Relief washes over us upon finding the bistro open, and we’re met with a warm welcome, a stark contrast to our wild, weather-beaten selves. Suddenly ravenous, we order steaming kjötsúpa and a local Mývatn Öl, brewed in a nanobrewery just a stone’s throw away. This hearty meal offers a much-needed refuge from the relentless weather, fueling us for one last stop before surrendering to the night.
Nature’s Final Bow
Our final viewpoint takes us to Skútustaðagígar, a series of small, hikeable craters located just across the road. As we trek up the path, the buffeting wind and pouring rain escalate into the worst storm of the day. With my raincoat drawn tightly around me, I reach the viewpoint, where a chill sweeps over the shivering waters. For once, even the birds have fallen silent.
It has been a long day filled with driving, hiking, and soaking in nature’s embrace—and there’s so much more of Mývatn left unexplored. This area embodies a unique charm, as if one has stumbled into a snow globe where time slows and nature envelops you completely. Mývatn may not claim the title of the largest or deepest lake, but it undoubtedly remains one of Iceland’s most iconic treasures.
This journey was part of the Summer Ring Road cover story trip. A Lux 4×4 Camper was provided by Go Campers — book yours at gocampers.is.
