07-15-2026 Seyðisfjörður Iceland

Seyðisfjörður may have been the most beautiful arrival of the entire cruise.

This morning, as I return in memory to our cruise, I am surprised that I had forgotten just how beautiful Seyðisfjörður was. Snow still lay across the high mountains above the fjord, feeding countless ribbons of water that spilled down one green basalt ledge after another toward the blue water below.

Seyðisfjörður is a tiny town of about 700 people tucked at the very head of a long, narrow fjord in eastern Iceland. Steep mountains rise almost directly behind its colorful wooden houses, with streams and waterfalls tumbling down the slopes, making the town seem almost cradled by the mountains. Originally developed as a 19th-century trading and herring-fishing center, today Seyðisfjörður is known for its remarkably preserved Norwegian-style wooden buildings, lively arts community, and its harbor, which remains Iceland’s ferry connection to Denmark and the Faroe Islands.

The morning was nearly perfect, bright and clear, with nothing hiding the mountains from us. Long before we stepped ashore, Mo and I were already captivated.

Sharing the tiny harbor with us was the sleek Scenic Eclipse, a luxury expedition ship complete with its own helicopter, looking more like an enormous private yacht than a cruise ship.

It was noon when we arrived in port, and Mo and I took time to have a delicious lunch of Asian chicken wings at the Pool Grill, a little favorite of ours. A tall frosty beer was the perfect accompaniment.

After our long day on a bus seeing incredible wonders yesterday, we chose to skip the ship tours and simply spend our time in port walking through the charming and colorful town. The trail to the waterfall was visible from our veranda, and it was only a short walk from the ship to the head of the trail.

I felt a thrill inside at the brilliant saturated colors around me, the clarity of the air, and the sunshine.

The trail was smooth gravel with an easy grade. Much like Multnomah Falls in Oregon, there was a longer and steeper hike to a bridge that crossed the creek partway up the falls. I didn’t attempt that section.

We walked slowly enough to stop and look at the thick carpet of wildflowers among the lupines and take photos of the ship in the distance. And no, of course I didn’t walk that trail without my sticks. I had Mo hold them so I could get a photo of me without them. Just for fun.

By the time we walked down the hill and back into town, the brilliant sun had disappeared behind incoming clouds. Somehow the softer light only made the colorful painted houses and lush cottage gardens even more beautiful.

I was surprised to see so many familiar plants in the gardens, reminding me of my decades of gardening through the long summer days and snowy cold winters of northern Idaho. I still haven’t quite adjusted to the dry, hot summer growing requirements of Grants Pass.

Rugosa roses were huge and lush and in full bloom. Many of the little cottages had whimsical art tucked away in their gardens and interesting paintings on their walls.

We meandered slowly toward the main part of town and realized that not far away a large crowd was gathering for what I thought might be the Viking Festival that was part of the official walking tour that day. I had no desire to jostle for a place to stand, especially since standing still for me is much harder than walking, so we meandered in the other direction and skipped the crowd.

It was a good choice. As we turned down the main street toward the church, the beautiful rainbow-painted pavement was nearly empty of people.

There were a few little shops, and one especially caught my eye.

Slipping in through the entrance, the fragrance and feel of soft Icelandic wool was my first impression. There were racks of sweaters and tables filled with gorgeous scarves and shawls, blankets and gloves. I managed to simply enjoy the feeling of that soft wool against my cheek while avoiding the startlingly high prices for Icelandic keepsakes.

However, I did buy just a few little things.

With puffins and sheep being symbols of the country, I settled on a couple of gorgeous kitchen towels, with puffins on one and some silly-looking sheep on the other. I also found a treat for my friend Jeanne, a wooden put-together puzzle in a flat envelope that could easily be sent in the mail and, after building, would become a lovely wooden depiction of an Icelandic sheep. I couldn’t resist and bought a tiny version of the same thing for myself and another to thank Deb for watching the house.

Looking back, I am actually a bit sad that I was so frugal and wish I had spent a whole bunch more on “stuff.” With Mo being a much less impulsive buyer than I am, she was delighted that I was somewhat restrained in my purchases.

I sent photos of Rainbow Street to my gay grandkids, knowing how much they would appreciate the inclusive environment we were seeing in Icelandic communities.

We walked slowly up the colorful street toward the church, admiring the well-kept houses along the way. I could live in this town and be happy. Except I do have to remember that I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder during dark winters and would no doubt need to escape the darkness.

At the end of Rainbow Street stood the pale blue Lutheran church, Seyðisfjarðarkirkja, although almost everyone calls it Bláa kirkjan, “the Blue Church.” Thank goodness I have a little help writing out those Icelandic names. I still have a terrible time every time I try to write the names of the ports we visited.

As our path turned back toward the ship, I couldn’t resist taking more photos of the gorgeous lilacs in full bloom, with the wild, snow-covered slopes rising behind the town.

I almost didn’t want to go back to the ship, but we had walked quite a bit that afternoon. I am learning when to stop instead of doing that stubborn Sue thing of going and going, thinking it will be OK. Usually it isn’t, and I pay the next day.

But this time it was just the right amount of time, and I felt great. Maybe it was the beauty of the town, the freshness of the air, the magnificent colors and the mountains surrounding us.

What a treasure to experience such a lovely place. Before the cruise I knew about Goðafoss, but I had no clue what we would find in this tiny little town at the end of a fjord in Iceland. Seyðisfjörður was a complete surprise, and maybe that was what made it so delightful.

We were back on the ship in time for supper at the World Café. One more perfectly fresh salad with succulent shrimp and luscious, crispy greens, with the waterfalls of Seyðisfjörður still visible beyond the windows. I still have no clue how Viking manages to serve greens this fresh and good after so many days of sailing.

A perfect day.

Perfect.

07-14-2026 The End of our Long Day

 

Our guide kept us entertained on the trip back to the ship

As our long day drew to a close, our guide talked less about volcanoes and waterfalls and more about what it is like to actually live in Iceland. She spoke of inexpensive geothermal heat and electricity, but also high prices, expensive housing and the challenges of making a life in this beautiful but isolated country. She was proud of Iceland's strong social safety net, its commitment to gender equality, and the way people come together when volcanoes, storms or other disasters threaten their communities.

Watching the Regent ship sail from Akureyri

Of everything she told us, one simple sentence stayed with me. She said that people should be able to live and thrive where they were born. Melody loved that line when I told her about it later, and so did I. After a day spent marveling at Iceland's waterfalls, lava fields, geothermal pools and extraordinary geology, it was a reminder that this spectacular landscape isn't simply somewhere we came to visit. It is home.

A late sunset from our balcony

Back aboard the Neptune that evening, the excitement of our eight-hour journey finally began to settle. Outside, the long Icelandic evening stretched across the sky as the sun slipped toward the horizon. It had been one of those rare travel days when reality exceeded everything I had imagined beforehand. I had stood beside Goðafoss. I had walked among pseudocraters, crossed an active volcanic landscape, watched the earth steam beneath my feet, and looked across the waters of Lake Mývatn. Now there was nothing more to do but watch the light fade over Iceland and be grateful that, for this one spectacular day, I had been there.

07-14-2026 A Day Trip from Akureyri, Iceland Part 3 Goðafoss Falls

 

When Mo first mentioned a cruise to Iceland, I started researching what it might be like to step onto a landscape as mythical as any I could imagine. Yes, the land of fire and ice, but also home to some of the most magnificent waterfalls in the world.

We were still several miles away from the Goðafoss waterfall when I took this photo

The images that captivated me most were those of Goðafoss. The falls looked every bit as grand and iconic as Niagara, perhaps even Victoria Falls in Africa. I have never been to Africa, but Mo and I stood together in awe of Niagara during our cross-country motorhome trip in 2010. I wondered if Goðafoss might stir that same sense of wonder.

This one would be different. It wasn't part of Viking's included excursions, and while Viking does an excellent job with those, none of them visited the waterfall I most wanted to see. My research uncovered an eight-hour bus trip from Akureyri that included four remarkable stops, among them Goðafoss. There was never any question. I booked it.

Looking downstream from the falls

After days of rain and wind, we left the ship prepared with every piece of rain gear we owned. I had spent hours reading about the history of the falls and the geology of the great volcanic rift through which the Skjálfandafljót River flows. But no amount of research could explain what it would feel like to actually stand there.

Looks like something I recognize from Oregon volcanic landscapes

I started up the paved path with my walker, thrilled to discover I could take it all the way to the edge of the falls. The roar grew louder with every step as the river plunged over the broad basalt cliff. My heart pounded with anticipation. 

Sea thrift tucked among the little herbs and forbs along the pathway

Every step became a meditation. Every turn in the path felt like therapy. There was a quiet joy in realizing that my body, for this one precious morning, had given me back a dream I had not been certain I could still manage.

facing away from the river you can see how thin the soils are on the volcanic landscape 

And then I reached the edge of the falls

Somehow, describing what it is like to stand beside Goðafoss takes away from the experience itself. Words cannot carry the deep rumble that rises through the basalt beneath your feet, nor the spray that hangs in the air, nor the immense power of the river as it hurls itself into the gorge below.

Take a look at the photos. Watch the videos. Listen to the roar.

What you hear is not only the voice of the waterfall. It is also the sound of my heart.

 

I made it!

I made it!

07-14-2026 A Day Trip from Akureyri, Iceland Part 2 the Hverir geothermal field

The trail I never managed at Dimmuborgir

Our second stop was the Dimmuborgir Lava Field near Lake Mývatn, a strange maze of lava pillars, arches and caves created when molten lava flowed across wet ground more than 2,000 years ago. Icelandic folklore has filled the formations with trolls, including a pair known as the Kissing Trolls.

The rain which held off for the first part of our day started in earnest as we traveled to our next stop

It was raining, but I thought I could manage with just my walking sticks. Instead, I had one of those humbling moments. My left hip cramped, my left leg simply refused to cooperate, and I couldn't take another step. I didn't fall, but I knew it was time to give in and head back to the bus.

A familiar volcanic landscape at Lava Beds in Oregon

We missed the walk among the remarkable volcanic formations that local legend calls trolls turned to stone. Looking at them from a distance, they reminded me so much of the lava landscapes around Lava Beds National Monument back home in Oregon. Some of the youngest flows at Lava Beds are only about 1,000 years old, a reminder that the volcanic landscapes I know from home are part of a much more recent story than these formations in Iceland.

Bjarnarflag Lake

Back on the highway, we continued toward our next stop for the day. On the way, however, beside the road, an astonishing pool of milky turquoise appeared against the dark volcanic earth. Instantly I was carried back to the milky blue-green waters of Boya Lake in the Yukon so many years ago.

This was Bjarnarflag, colored an almost impossible blue by silica-rich geothermal water. Beautiful as it was, it also served notice that the quiet landscape around the lake was about to change.

The landscape changes as we approach the rift zone

Ahead of us, the land rose and opened into the active rift zone where the North American and Eurasian plates are slowly pulling apart. Our guide pointed out the place where we crossed from the North American Plate onto the Eurasian Plate. I managed a quick photo through the bus window by pressing my phone against the glass to eliminate the reflections. I later learned that not far off the road from where we traveled, there is a trail that crosses the actual rift.  I would have liked to stand on the edge of two continents.  

The American plater on the left of the notch and the Eurasion plate on the right

We were not simply crossing another Icelandic mountain pass. We were traveling through a place where the Earth's crust is being stretched, fractured, heated and continually remade.

Then we came over the divide, and the Hverir geothermal field appeared below us.

First view of the geothermal field

Nothing in the soft beauty of Lake Mývatn had prepared me for that first view, a wild landscape of orange, red, black and white, barren and steaming. 

Suddenly we were looking at something that reminded me of Yellowstone or the bubbling mud pots near Mount Lassen, just minutes after leaving a world of gentle blues and greens. The landscapes of Iceland change so abruptly that they continually take my breath away.

Of course, my soil scientist's brain never really takes a vacation. I kept trying to imagine doing soil survey here. The thought was equal parts fascinating and completely insane.

The number of tour buses lined up in the parking lot was overwhelming. People looked like tiny stick figures crawling across the distant hills, snaking along the marked pathways. And then there it was...that unmistakable smell of sulfur that Mo despises and I have always loved at hot springs.

Our guide called out, "Twenty-five minutes. Don't walk on the mud or it will ruin your shoes."

I desperately wanted to follow the trail toward the steaming fumaroles, but Mo, with her usual good judgment, slowed me down.

"No. Don't do it."

She was right. We watched plenty of people return with that sticky gray clay plastered over their shoes.

Towering above it all was the massive flat-topped Námafjall, known to Icelanders as "Broad Shoulders." Its broad summit is another reminder of the tremendous volcanic forces that have shaped this restless landscape.

The wind kept the midges away

For once, my body wasn't arguing with me. I walked comfortably, took my photographs, breathed deeply of the sulfur-laden air, and realized I was ready for what I knew would be the highlight of the day.

Goðafoss awaited.

After one last slow wander among the steam vents and bubbling earth, we made our way back to the bus.

07-14-2026 A Day Trip from Akureyri, Iceland Part 1 Lake Mývatn

Early morning approach to Akureyri, Iceland

Our longest excursion of the cruise began early. By 7:00 a.m. we were off Neptune and looking for Bus Number 2, one of dozens lined up along the dock waiting to carry passengers across northern Iceland. Three other cruise ships were in port that morning, and the big tour buses were already lined up and rumbling.

Almost there!  A big day ahead for us

One of the things I appreciated throughout the voyage was how carefully Viking looked after me. Before I had time to worry about my walker, a crew member had already whisked it away, and it was always waiting for me at the bottom of the gangway.

Once again I was ushered to the front seat of the bus

We rode about forty-five minutes through a technicolor landscape while our guide introduced us to the world around us. 

such a green and lovely landscape

By the time we arrived at Lake Mývatn, I was already in love with the colors and this familiar-yet-unknown volcanic landscape. It was like looking at Upper Klamath Lake, Mono Lake, and some wonderfully green Irish countryside all rolled into one.

Viking Neptune and a Regent ship both in port at Akureyri

This first stop was spectacular. The rain stopped just long enough to leave behind a magical sky filled with shifting shadows and light. 

A shallow lake with cones and fumaroles scattered about

The lake stretched before us with gorgeous views in every direction. Even though the path was rough gravel, I decided to take the walker. I made it to the first high viewpoint, and then our guide, in her wonderful Icelandic accent, announced,

"Now these are the only stairs I will require you to take. The rest is fairly level."

The stairs were long and rather steep

As I looked down the long flight of stairs, I asked Mo if we could somehow carry the walker. Just as she was saying, "No way," an older gentleman lost his footing on the lower steps. Unable to regain his balance, he finally sat down and carefully slid the rest of the way to the bottom.

As I stood looking out over that magical landscape, I tried hard to hide the stinging tears welling up in the back of my eyes.

Halfway around the world, I thought, and I'm going to miss this.

Then Mo quietly looked around and said, "What if we go back down and access the trail from the lower end?" It worked.

Together we walked to the lakeshore with the walker, and suddenly the disappointment melted away. The entire landscape felt wonderfully familiar. The volcanic story reminded me so much of the Klamath Basin, algae blooming in phosphorus-rich waters, clouds of midges thriving because of that same phosphorus, and a healthy trout population completing the ecosystem. Half a world apart, yet somehow it felt like coming home.

Our first sight of Icelandic horses

At the beginning of our walk around the lake trail, our guide explained how Lake Mývatn had formed about 2,300 years ago after a large basaltic lava eruption. As the lava spread across the region, it reached wetlands and shallow water. The intense heat caused powerful steam explosions, creating the remarkable pseudocraters surrounding the lake. Unlike true volcanic craters, these weren't formed by erupting magma but by steam blasting through the lava. The same lava flow also blocked the region's natural drainage, trapping the water that eventually became Lake Mývatn.

wild purple thyme and white yarrpw growing on the lava

Today it is one of Iceland's largest lakes, covering about fourteen square miles, yet its average depth is only about eight feet similar to our very own Klamath Lake. That shallow, nutrient-rich water supports an astonishing abundance of aquatic life and birdlife.

the hotel where we were served a lovely lunch

With our extended trail walk, Mo and I were just a bit late to the included lunch at the hotel across the street from the trail.  The meal was simple and delicious: smooth tomato soup, perfectly prepared trout without a single bone, boiled potatoes, cabbage slaw, beer for me, and wine for Mo.

delicious lunch served family style

I have to admit I remained a little irritated. The lower trail had been an easy and enjoyable way to experience the lake, and I couldn't understand why our guide hadn't mentioned it from the beginning. It would have allowed anyone with limited mobility to enjoy the same beautiful shoreline without feeling they were missing the best part of the stop.

the wind was strong but the rain gave us a bit of a break as we walke the paths

As we continued toward our next stop, our guide kept pointing out features of the volcanic landscape rolling past our windows. This seems like the perfect opportunity to share something I was beginning to understand about Iceland.

One reader commented that she was surprised by the horizontal basalt layers in the cliffs around Ísafjörður. She had imagined Iceland as one dramatic volcanic landscape filled with fresh lava and erupting volcanoes.

I smiled because I had expected much the same thing. Instead, I discovered that Iceland tells its geologic story in chapters.

As a retired soil scientist, I naturally notice geology because it forms the parent material of soils. But what fascinated me even more was the geomorphology, the shape of the land itself. Geology tells us what the rocks are made of. Geomorphology explains how the landscape we see today came to be.

As we traveled around Iceland, I realized each stop revealed a completely different chapter in the island's history. For those who enjoy geology as much as I do, here's a simplified way to think about Iceland's landscapes.

• 
  The Westfjords (Ísafjörður) showed us Iceland's oldest landscapes, millions of years of stacked basalt lava flows later carved into spectacular fjords by glaciers.

• 

  Gentle landscape around Lake Myvatn

  North Iceland (Akureyri and Mývatn) felt completely different. Here we would see a landscape still being built by volcanic eruptions, rifting, lava flows, geothermal activity, and boiling earth.

• 

  Godafoss downcutting recent basaltic lava

  Goðafoss reminded us that water can be just as powerful as lava, carving beautiful waterfalls through ancient volcanic rock.

• 

  Recent volcanic landscape of Heimaey

  Heimaey showed us perhaps the most dramatic chapter of all, a town that watched a volcanic eruption reshape its island within living memory.

By the end of our journey I realized Iceland wasn't one landscape at all. It was an entire geologic story spread across an island, one remarkable chapter after another.

But this tour from Akureyri still had wonders to show us.  Next, Part 2  The Geothermal Zone