Amid fire and ash, a spectrum of color in Iceland
The night sky was on fire.
A storm had whipped through the Meradalir Valley, bringing thick fog, pelting rain and wind that seemed to penetrate to the core — not uncharacteristic for Iceland but unpleasant nonetheless. Scores of people visiting this remote section of the Reykjanes Peninsula — all to see the country’s newest volcanic eruption — strapped on their headlamps in unison and began the long trek back through the dark.
Upon retreat, I turned around for a final look. A descending thicket of clouds had obscured the crater and neon fountains of lava. But a brilliant red glow reverberated through the air, harnessed and amplified by the fog; it hung like a sinister, swirling canvas, the silhouettes of hikers like demons reaching out from the underworld. Hot, angry volcanic belches rang like a deep, guttural death knell over the wind and crunch of rock underfoot.
Lava arcs high above the valley floor before sunrise. Within a week of this photo, the eruption lay dormant. ©Greg Iacurci
That haunting beauty was another reminder that Iceland, a land of natural marvels and meteorological idiosyncrasies, consistently outdoes itself, often in surprising ways.
Contrary to what its name might suggest, Iceland is a nation awash in color. It is a charred, rugged landscape whose volcanic underpinnings are etched in its ancient lava fields, black-sand beaches, black-green hills and canyons, steaming hot springs, fumaroles and geysers — and, of course, its volcanoes. But those fiery origins also beget vibrant gifts like Landmannalaugar, a network of rainbow-hued rhyolite mountains in the southern highlands; vivid geothermal areas like Hverir, in the country’s north; or the orange-laced basalt columns of Stuðlagil Canyon in the east, geometric marvels formed by the cooling and cracking of lava, the walls split by a turquoise river.
Stuðlagil Canyon has the largest concentration of basalt columns in Iceland. It was only discovered within the past decade, after a hydroelectric plant and reservoir built upstream reduced the river’s water level and uncovered the canyon. ©Greg Iacurci
Iceland is among the most volcanically active countries in the world. The island straddles the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet. These continental boundaries, large pieces of the Earth’s crust, are pulling apart from one another at a rate of about two centimeters a year. Fissures form as the plates shift, forcing magma from the planet’s mantle to its surface in semi-regular eruptions that occur, on average, every five years. Europe’s youngest country in geologic terms, Iceland has 34 volcanoes, the 12th most of any nation, according to the Smithsonian Institution — a remarkable feat considering it’s about the size of Kentucky.
Perhaps the most famous recent episode, the 2010 eruption of Eyjafjallajökull, a glacier-topped volcano, shot ash plumes high into the atmosphere and grounded European air travel for several days. Locals often joke that the eruption was a blessing because the world finally knew Iceland existed. Tourism has since overtaken fishing as the country’s largest industry; the number of tourists ballooned by 400% between 2010 and 2018, reaching an apex of 2.3 million people, according to the International Trade Administration.
Colorful mountains stretch across Landmannalaugar, in the Fjallabak Nature Reserve of Iceland’s southern highlands. ©Greg Iacurci
Unlike Eyjafjallajökull, the eruption that began Aug. 3 was a “volcanic fissure,” which doesn’t typically result in large explosions or ash dispersion into the stratosphere. And the Meradalir Valley is uninhabited — a Goldilocks scenario that drew tourists but didn’t damage infrastructure, displace residents or disrupt air travel. Iceland’s prior eruption, in March 2021, was in an adjacent valley and emanated from the same volcano, Fagradalsfjall; it lasted six months, while the one in 2022 was active for just three weeks.
But the back-to-back incidents may portend years of renewed volcanic activity in the region, which lies about 15 miles from the capital and, before reawakening, had been dormant for more than 800 years. One shopkeeper in Reykjavík told me he was concerned that, among other potential cataclysms, an eruption in the wrong place could choke off roads leading to Iceland’s main airport, Keflavik, which lies at the tip of the Reykjanes Peninsula.
Puffins on Hafnarhólmi, an island in Borgarfjörður Eystri harbor. Specially constructed platforms let visitors get close to the birds during mating season. ©Greg Iacurci
Each of my three treks to the Meradalir eruption site was like a pilgrimage among thousands of people, drawn by the captivating and violent process of new earth forming. From ground level on a clear night, lava arced so high that golden droplets bled into the sky, making it hard to discern between stars and molten rock, which formed fleeting new constellations; the surface of the florescent tail that streaked down the valley twinkled like swarms of fireflies. At twilight and sunrise, smoke bellowing from the crater glinted pink from the flame below, mirroring the clouds in the sky.
The volcano itself was like a living organism, perpetually growing and changing from day to day as red-hot embers cooled and hardened on the cone’s surface. Nearby, the scorched, jagged plains from last year’s eruption still smoldered, reminders of the cauldron boiling deep underground.
At ground level, a wall of black, hardened lava about 10 feet high separated onlookers from the volcano, a quarter mile or more in the distance. ©Greg Iacurci
Flying overhead in a prop plane offered a view into the heart of the Fagradalsfjall volcano. The primary vantage point for hikers was a hillside just out of view to the right. ©Greg Iacurci
A helicopter hovers above the crater, lending scale to the volcano and its florescent lava tail. ©Greg Iacurci
Just weeks before the volcano expedition, my sister and I embarked on a 10-day trip along the Ring Road, Iceland’s main transit artery, which tracks an ovular path around the country’s perimeter. We also detoured inland to the highland mountains and to the Snaefellsnes Peninsula northwest of Reykjavík, often described as an encapsulation of all Iceland’s natural features in one relatively compact day trip, for a grand total of roughly 3,000 kilometers.
A new delight revealed itself around each bend — colorful fishing hamlets sitting below snow-capped mountains; volcanic deserts of black ash and foreboding craters; glacial melt tumbling in ribbons over green, striated cliffs; ethereal basalt columns, like massive hexagonal pipe organs; and fjords that cut inland for miles, their deep-blue waters caressing giant fingers of rock, the hands of gods reaching into the sea. In one section of the East Fjords, the land fell away and seemed to melt into the valley below, gargantuan slabs of scalloped, grassy earth pouring like viscous liquid toward the distant sea, as if Salvador Dali had transfigured the hills with a surrealist brushstroke.
The Námafjall Geothermal Area, also known as Hverir, is an alien landscape of steaming fumaroles and mud pots. ©Greg Iacurci
Most visitors don’t travel beyond the capital and Iceland’s south coast, which stretches from Reykjavík to Vík, Iceland’s southernmost village, and Höfn in the southeast. The south boasts some of Iceland’s most captivating and iconic sites: Stokksnes and Reynisfjara, two pristine yet eerily sinister black-sand beaches framed by dark mountains, cliffs and offshore sea stacks; and waterfalls like Skógafoss, Seljalandsfoss and Gljúfrabúi, each with their own distinct attitude and jets of mist that refract sunlight into dazzling rainbows.
The Land of Fire and Ice, most of which sits just below the Arctic Circle, is also replete with glaciers, which cover a tenth of Iceland’s surface; many, like Vatnajökull, the largest icecap in Europe, are easily accessible from the south, as are their accompanying glacial lagoons, like Jökulsárlón, where behemoth blue and white icebergs, streaked with ash, float peacefully and tragically as they melt and drift to sea. To give a sense of Vatnajökull’s immensity: Unfrozen, the glacier’s water would raise the global sea level by 1 centimeter.
Sólheimajökull is a glacial tongue off Mýrdalsjökull, Iceland’s fourth-largest ice cap. Volcanic ash from past eruptions streaks the blue and white ice sheet with black. The glacier has receded about 1 kilometer in the past 50 years. ©Greg Iacurci
Seljalandsfoss, a 200-foot cascade on the south coast, is among Iceland’s most famous waterfalls. A path behind the falls gives visitors a unique vantage point. ©Greg Iacurci
Stokknes beach sits below Vestrahorn mountain on Iceland’s south coast. ©Greg Iacurci
Reykjavík is an energetic and charming metropolitan gateway to Iceland’s natural beauty. Its name translates to “Smoky Bay,” bestowed by Viking settlers for the steam from geothermal springs. The capital’s aesthetic is one of bright, character-laden shops, dwellings and harbors — much like towns and villages throughout Iceland — accentuated by periodic graffiti art. The Rainbow Street, a show of support for the LGBTQ community, streaks toward the soaring Hallgrímskirkja, which, at 245 feet, is the nation’s tallest church; it was designed as an ode to Iceland’s landscape and Thor’s hammer, itself a nod to religious roots in Old Norse mythology. Near the waterfront, the honeycomb glass exterior of Harpa concert hall — home of the Iceland Symphony Orchestra and the Icelandic Opera — serves as an architectural kaleidoscope that morphs with the light and weather conditions.
The Brauð & Co bakery in Reykjavík. ©Greg Iacurci
Only a third of tourists visit the north or east of the country, and even fewer voyage to the West Fjords, a wild, remote swath of the country that will undoubtedly factor among my future travels based on rave reviews from locals.
Some of the most indelible parts of our trip were in the more lightly trafficked regions: Driving the Tröllaskagi Peninsula, a mountainous outcrop northwest of Akureyri — Iceland’s “capital of the north” — whose road hugs the fjord coastline as it weaves through idyllic seaside villages like Siglufjörður and Dalvík; the desolate, alien moonscape east of Mývatn, parts of which U.S. Apollo astronauts used as a training ground in the mid-1960s to prepare for lunar missions; the elegant, semicircular tumble of Goðafoss; the thunderous roar of Dettifoss, among Europe’s most powerful waterfalls, which explodes about 51,000 gallons of water per second into Jökulsárgljúfur canyon; Hafnarhólmi, an island in Borgarfjörður Eystri harbor that hosts a colony of puffins, thousands strong, during mating season each year and where specially constructed viewing platforms allow for a rare close-up; hiking into Stuðlagil Canyon, which boasts the country’s largest concentration of basalt columns; and the electric, aforementioned drive along the shore of the East Fjords.
Dalvík is a colorful fishing hamlet on the Tröllaskagi Peninsula in the north. Its harbor lies on Eyjafjörður, one of Iceland’s many fjords. ©Greg Iacurci
The Reykjavík metro area holds nearly two-thirds of all Icelanders — a population density that’s difficult to comprehend until you leave the capital and see, quite apparently, that about 80% of the country is uninhabited. There are vast tracts of land where sheep, horses and the occasional farm, often adorned by lonely bales of hay wrapped in colorful plastic, are the only inhabitants among the mountains, rivers and waterfalls. As the crowds and native population thin, there are times on the road when you’ll feel like the one soul for miles around. And therein lies another of Iceland’s great treasures: In those moments, it’s as if the country belongs to you; step out of the car, appreciate the stillness, the sounds of wind and rushing water, and Iceland seeps into your soul, as if a piece of the country is yours forever.
A turf house in Borgarfjörður Eystri at twilight. ©Greg Iacurci
Ring Road itinerary
Below, you’ll find our 10-day Ring Road itinerary, outlining major stopping points and sites. I hope it serves as a useful guide for inspiration.
Note: These were long days with many hours of driving. I’d recommend lengthening the itinerary or planning fewer activities each day if you seek a more relaxed trip. I’ve also noted locations or activities of interest that we couldn’t fit due to time constraints, but which you may wish to add or substitute.
Day 1: Explore Reykjavík
Free walking tour
Rainbow Street and Laugavegur
Whale watching tour from the Old Harbour
Where to eat:
Quick and casual:
Sit-down restaurants:
Sandholt (also good for a grab-and-go meal)
Where to drink:
Gljúfrabúi waterfall. ©Greg Iacurci
Day 2: Day trip to the Snaefellsnes Peninsula
Visit Stykkisholmur, a picturesque fishing town
Kirkjufell mountain, Kirkjufellsfoss waterfall
Snæfellsjökull National Park
Fun fact: The glacier-topped volcano from which the park derives its name is the basis for Jules Verne’s novel “Journey to the Center of the Earth.”
Day 3: Reykjavík to Akureyri
Scenic Route 47 around Hvalfjörður, a fjord near Reykjavík
Drive the Tröllaskagi Peninsula, stopping at Siglufjörður and Dalvík
Day 4: Akureyri to Borgarfjörður Eystri
Goðafoss waterfall
Explore the Lake Mývatn area (Dimmuborgir lava fields, Námafjall Geothermal Area)
Dettifoss waterfall
If you have time:
Birds rest on an iceberg in Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon, a tableau of frozen behemoths that calve off Vatnajökull, the largest icecap in Europe. ©Greg Iacurci
Day 5: Borgarfjörður Eystri to Höfn
Hafnarhólmi to see a puffin colony
Stuðlagil Canyon.
Pro tip: There are two viewing areas, but you can only hike into the canyon and down to the river from the east side. The other route, accessed via a different parking area, doesn’t require a hike but you can only view the canyon from above.
Stokknes beach and Vestrahorn mountain
If you have time: Detour to Seyðisfjörður and other villages in the East Fjords
Day 6: Höfn to Vík
Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon boat tour
Diamond Beach
Skaftafell National Park
Fjaðrárgljúfur canyon hike
Day 7: Vík to Hella
Sólheimajökull glacier hiking tour. (This is one of many possible glaciers to hike on the south coast.)
Skógafoss, Seljalandsfoss and Gljúfrabúi waterfalls
Pro tip: Hike into the mouth of a small cave for a full glimpse of Gljúfrabúi. Be prepared to get a bit wet.
Horses in Landmannalaugar. ©Greg Iacurci
View of Mt. Brennisteinsalda, also called the Sulphur Wave, from the Brennisteinsalda-Bláhnúkur loop trail. ©Greg Iacurci
Day 8: Hella to Landmannalaugar to Reykjavík
Landmannalaugar day hike: Brennisteinsalda-Bláhnúkur loop trail
Pro tip: There are a few ways to drive to Landmannalaugar. The easiest route, which avoids river crossings, is via Routes 30 to 32 to F208. “F” roads require a 4-wheel-drive car by law — and for good reason; F208 entails about 25 kilometers of rough, highland terrain.
If you have time: The Laugavegur Trail is a multi-day hike from Landmannalaugar to Þórsmörk, and is perhaps the most famous trail in Iceland.
Day 9: Reykjavík and the “Golden Circle”
Þingvellir National Park. (Added bonus: Snorkel between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates in the Silfra Fissure, in some of the clearest, purest water you’ve ever seen.)
Gullfoss waterfall
Geysir (the O.G. geyser, now barely active) and Strokkur (which erupts every few minutes)
Eat at Friðheimar
If you have time: Reykjadalur Hot Springs
Day 10: Departure day
Blue Lagoon on the way to the airport
Basalt columns tower above Jenna and me at Reynisfjara, one of Iceland’s famous black-sand beaches. ©Greg Iacurci