The Starting Point

The sensation of arriving at a destination that feels both minimal and immense is quite overwhelming. Your senses enter a sort of tug-of-war, searching for visual and auditory equilibrium in a place that offers so little noise yet has such a boisterous presence. It isn’t sensory overload that triggers this visceral reaction; rather, it’s the calm stillness that short-circuits your brain. We aren’t conditioned to process a landscape so neutral and perfectly balanced, without distraction.

Arrival in Reykjavík begins like any other. One marked by metal, concrete, plastic, and glass. From the airplane to the terminal onto whatever mode of transportation carries you onward, the entire experience is unmistakably human-made. There is something almost jarring in its familiarity. Utilitarian and efficient? Of course. Faintly wasteful? Also, a yes.

Once you leave the industrial walls of the airport, you enter what you came to experience; Iceland. The terrain stretches far beyond the city limits while also pressing right up against them. It is natural and largely untouched. The urban shell is planned, inhabited and new in comparison to the ancient, patient and unconcerned land it occupies. The contrast is immediate and striking.

Reykjavík is a starting point, not the destination. And it is precisely here that the journey begins.

Using the city as a base, you’re able to divide the landscape into visually digestible chapters, immersing yourself in the full spectrum of topography that this country has to offer. It is one of the few places on Earth where such dramatic natural shifts exist without the need to traverse multiple time zones or endure multi-hour journeys. Here, the drives are shorter, yet endlessly expansive, filled with a visual cornucopia of greenery strategically draped atop the terrain, broken up by jagged rock formations shaped by geological force.

The water here feels almost supernatural, offering relaxation and restorative properties as it rises heated from the earth itself. The air is clean and sharp, carrying a purity that feels almost unreal to anyone accustomed to life in most metropolitan environments. The land is versatile with volcanoes, glaciers, black sand beaches and rolling lava fields covered in moss. Ancient volcanoes have left craters which have now transformed into lakes. Fjords, hot springs and geysers freckle the countryside, coastline and islands alike. And we cannot forget the fire. There is a reason why Iceland boasts the nickname, the Land of Fire and Ice. The city limits comfortably sit on the Reykjanes Peninsula, a volcanically active hotspot on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge where tectonic plates are pulling away from each other, causing eruptions. The quivering of the land is frequent, slowly allowing the earth to show its lava-filled insides through its ripped crust. 

Iceland is not a country you simply visit. It is one you move through. Fire, water, air, and earth become both friend and foe, offering both gratifying adventures and challenging encounters. Reykjavík serves only as the threshold. Beyond its limits, nature engulfs you. It reminds you that traveling isn’t about following a plan, but about conceding to your surroundings and letting them lead.