Exploring Iceland’s Ring Road: A Journey of Nature and Connection
Route One, known as Iceland’s Ring Road, weaves its way around the country for 1,321 kilometers, traversing mountainous passes, winding fjords, deep tunnels, and rugged coastlines. The experience of driving along this route is nothing short of enchanting; with the ever-shifting light and unpredictable weather, each view offers a fresh perspective, never quite the same as before.
Each trip around the Ring Road leaves me transformed. The overwhelming beauty of Iceland’s nature captivates the senses, immersing the mind in a tranquil state. After days spent gazing at dramatic black shorelines, twisted lava fields, and glaciers sculpted by time, a profound sense of peace washes over me—an elusive calm I’ve only ever felt here.
On a showery late-May afternoon, we embark on our journey in a sturdy 4×4 camper van. Recently, Iceland experienced an unprecedented heatwave—five consecutive days of unseasonably mild temperatures that stirred up a buzz of excitement among its residents. However, as we drive towards Borgarnes, dark rainclouds sweep in, with gusts of wind making our van shudder, while the windshield wipers work overtime. As wispy clouds race over the slopes of Hafnarfjall, I reflect on our mission: a 12-day expedition around the Ring Road, guided by instinct and conversation with locals.
Small Town Life
Stopping in Borgarnes, we take our first of many “pylsa” breaks when I notice a humble shop called Brúartorg. Its sign, adorned with Canon, Fuji, and Nikon logos, proclaims “gjafir, garn, myndir”—“Gifts, yarn, pictures.” Upon entering, a small bell tinkles.
Inside, I meet Elva, the shop owner, who has run the business with her husband for over 36 years. “Things have changed a lot,” she says, reflecting on the evolution of their shop from a traditional photo lab to a diverse gift store. “Ten years ago, we started selling yarn and gifts since people don’t print as many photos anymore—everything is digital now.”
Originally from Stykkishólmur, Elva has called Borgarnes home for four decades. “It’s a good life,” she smiles. “We appreciate the community here. We used to know everyone, but as Borgarnes expands, it’s becoming harder to keep track.”
Elva insists that the locals have no desire for more than what their town provides. “We love it here,” she says. “Some go to Reykjavík for education—our daughter included—but they often return to lay down roots.”
The Pandemic’s Toll
Venturing deeper into Borgarfjörður, we arrive at Hverinn, a campsite and diner managed by Biggi and his wife Stína, who made the leap from Reykjavík in 2019. “We thought we’d be slowing down,” Biggi chuckles, “but it hasn’t turned out that way.”
The pandemic hit their new venture hard. “It was tough,” he admits. “Our business relies on tourism, which vanished for two years. It’s still a challenge. Loans accumulate, and interest rates have skyrocketed. Those lost years linger over us.”
Despite the setbacks, Biggi remains upbeat. “You can’t stress over it,” he insists. “Business is steady now—summers are good, winters slow, but we only close for a month. We even grow our tomatoes and carrots—there’s pride in offering something you cultivate yourself.”
Ultimately, he embraces his new lifestyle. “Even after this, I’m not sure I’d move back to Reykjavík. It’s too fast-paced, too noisy. But you have to be open to change.” He flashes a knowing smile.
Horses Being Horses
On our journey to Akureyri, we pause for the night at Syðra-Skorðugil, a prestigious horse farm known for its exceptional lodgings. After a relaxing soak in a hot pot, we meet Sophie, a young Danish stablehand working summer riding tours.
With the owners off at a nearby equestrian competition, Sophie holds down the fort. “They’ll be showcasing all the gaits in various combinations,” she explains. “I don’t own an Icelandic horse, so navigating this world is still new to me. I’m used to classical dressage and natural horsemanship with my Spanish and Scottish mounts; they’re entirely different in temperament and size.”
Sophie’s eyes light up as she describes the freedom of Icelandic horses. “It’s incredible riding over the hills and witnessing herds of horses—young and old—play and bask in the sun. They roam freely, truly being horses.”
For her, the community’s bond with these creatures is profound. “Every conversation revolves around horses,” she laughs. “Friends visit, and it’s horses. The carpenter arrives, and it’s horses. At dinner, horses. Life is horses!”
A Stormy Day Ahead
The following morning, we venture eastward under driving rain. The smooth asphalt of Route One snakes through Öxnadalur, a black ribbon dividing lush green fields and tumultuous rainclouds. We push through a stormy Öxnaheiði, passing Akureyri while drawn to the open road ahead.
Our destination is Mývatn, a breathtaking region where diverse landscapes converge around the lake’s shores. Trails entwine through fields of broken lava, old moss, black sand, and vibrant red volcanic mountains—an outdoor haven interspersed with striking sea stacks and hiking paths.
On one such trail, we encounter Alessandro, donned in a neon ICE-SAR jacket and taking an evening stroll. A teacher and volunteer with Search and Rescue, he shares tales of his adventures. “We respond to emergency calls,” he says. “Just a few days ago, we helped someone stuck near the Hverir mud pools.”
Alessandro, originally from Madrid, admits that adjusting to Iceland’s climate and lifestyle has been a challenge. “I’ve never dealt with snowbound car issues before,” he chuckles. “I generally manage mountain rescues. To be honest, I’m grateful for the chilly rain now—keeps the flies away.”
Rotted Wyrm
A day later, we find ourselves at the shores of Lagarfljót, where the Hengifoss food truck welcomes us. Nicola, a newcomer from Sardinia, serves us steaming bowls of kjötsúpa and a sweet cup of sheep milk ice cream.
“Surprisingly, Iceland has been hotter than my home,” he remarks. “One day hit 35 degrees—it was… excessive.” Beneath drizzling rain, we drive around Lagarfljót, its silty waters resembling a lake framed by lush woods and campsites.
We pause at a plaque recounting sightings of the Lagafljót wyrm, Iceland’s own Loch Ness monster. “In 1790, reliable sources reported a creature surfacing,” it informs, adding that, regrettably, many sightings may be attributed to decaying organic material floating in the water.
Cool Rocks
An extraordinary stop in the East is Petra’s Stone Collection in Stöðvarfjörður. The museum features hundreds of colorful gems found by its namesake, the late Petra. Late into the day, we arrive with just 20 minutes to explore, greeted by Embla, a fresh-faced young woman excited to share the treasures.
“I’m new here, just started six days ago,” she exclaims. “It’s been chill and rainy, but meeting people from all over is wonderful!”
Embla, who lived in Reykjavík, returned to the small-town life three years ago to help with her family’s coffee business. “There are so many creative individuals here,” she beams. “I really love it.”
Clubs Every Night
Our time in the East is fleeting, and by noon the following day, we emerge from the Almannaskarðsgöng tunnel into the sunny South. Immediately, we notice the swell of tourists, brightly colored jackets populating every turnoff and view point. We stop in Höfn for a lunch of rock crab and langoustine soup, chuckling at the sudden buzz after our quiet days on the road.
We find solitude at the Hoffell Hot Pots—natural hot springs set in the earth. Greeting us at the kiosk is Mattia, a young Italian who randomly joined this community after planning to cycle around Iceland.
“It was the first job I found!” he says, shares plans of cycling around the country. “But I really love it here—the peace and surrounding nature—it’s just perfect for me.”
Old Tissues and Glaciology
Setting up camp at Skaftafell, we seize a moment of sun to hike up to Svartifoss, Iceland’s most dramatic waterfall. As we admire the towering cliffs of eroded black basalt, a nervous-looking ranger named Ari Kristinn catches our attention.
“I’m picking up trash,” he explains, wielding a dustpan. “A lot of tissues people mistakenly think are biodegradable. It builds up over time.”
Ari joined the ranger team at Skaftafell after studying at university, diving into the work of cleaning and maintenance. “Visitors are particularly interested in the glacier’s history—where it used to be,” he notes.
Don’t Look Back
Back at the campsite, we meets Sara, another ranger who appears familiar. She previously worked at Kaffibarinn in Reykjavík but decided to stay in Skaftafell after COVID-19 dished out unexpected changes. “There’s something magical about this area,” she says, perhaps explaining why so many are drawn back.
As we head toward Vík, we encounter the influx of tourists. Once a tranquil seaside town, it now buzzes with busloads of visitors, leading us to Skool Beans, a coffee operation in a refurbished U.S. school bus. Surrounded by a lively atmosphere, we chat with the barista who emphasizes community support amid the crowd.
As we check into Hótel Dyrhólaey, we’re greeted by the flurry of tourists overwhelming the reception and dinner buffet—an energy both inviting and chaotic. While grateful for a warm meal and a bed, Sara’s reminder of the area’s peaceful allure lingers in my mind.
I Cannot Smile
At the dramatic Dýrhólaey viewpoint, overlooking Reynisfjara’s black sands and Mýrdalsjökull glacier, we meet Pascal, a young German photographer carefully adjusting his equipment. “I’m new to photography,” he admits. “I thought—why not invest in the best gear?”
Pascal, in Iceland for the first time, shares how breathtaking the sunset was the previous night. When I request a photo, he freezes momentarily. “I cannot smile,” he states earnestly, his mouth almost quirking before returning to serious.
I’ve Seen It All
As we prepare to complete our journey around the Ring Road, we venture to the Westman Islands, witnessing more captivating sights before settling at The Brothers Brewery. There, we meet Jóhanna, the bartender with a knowing smile who speaks warmly of community life. “You can’t do anything foolish without it being known,” she laughs, before pointing out the changes in the local drinking culture.
Despite past challenges, they are committed to keeping the bar alive, facing the quieter winter months head-on. As we rejoin Route One, driven by high winds and a weather warning, we opt to return to Reykjavík early, having learned to navigate Iceland’s unpredictable nature.
Completing the loop of the Ring Road, we feel exhilarated, exhausted, and once again, irrevocably changed.
Lux 4×4 camper provided by Go Campers — rent one at gocamper.is. Room and stable tour provided by Syðra Skörðugil — book at sydraskordugil.is. Room provided by Hótel Dyrhólaey — book at dyrholaey.is.
