07-16-2026 Djúpivogur and the lost bag

Another spectacular morning greeted us with perfect weather as we sailed along the southeast coast of Iceland. We were scheduled to arrive at 7am, and by the time we got up for breakfast the ship was already anchored in Berufjörður, with the tiny fishing village of Djúpivogur sparkling in the sunlight.

I went to Google Maps to try to understand where we were in relation to Iceland and the North Atlantic. The more I looked at the map, the more interested I became in all the fjords cutting deeply into the coastline. We had sailed into the deep blue waters of several fjords on this journey, and it seemed like I should understand how a fjord was formed.

Imagine my surprise when all my experience with glacial landscapes didn't kick in right away. Fjords are formed when glaciers carve down through the landscape, creating those classic U-shaped glacial valleys, complete with hanging valleys on the steep sideslopes, glacial lakes and waterfalls spilling down from above. When the glaciers retreat and the sea floods those deep valleys, you have a fjord.

Of course. It was embarrassingly obvious once I knew the answer. Made me feel a bit silly.

With a population of only a few hundred people, the tiny village of Djúpivogur sits beneath steep mountains in a landscape that feels much larger than the town itself. Fishing has sustained the community for centuries, but today travelers also come for the extraordinary scenery, birdlife and quiet beauty of this isolated corner of Iceland.

Our early morning excursion was another bus tour, with views of the fjord, the mountains, the beach and another waterfall. It was to be a day for scenery...spectacular scenery...and we were excited to step ashore once again for a tour that didn't require much hiking. I was ready for a break, and Bus Number 3 provided a lovely respite from all the walking I had been doing.

We drove through the tiny town, and within minutes our route intersected the famous Route 1, the Ring Road. This highway is more than 800 miles long and circumnavigates almost the entire island of Iceland. I know several friends who have traveled this road, including Suzanne, who did the classic Iceland Ring Road trip in a tiny van. Her stories of that journey were enthralling, and after visiting Iceland myself I returned to read her blog again with different eyes.

The road was narrow and followed the shoreline of the fjord, with every curve revealing another astonishing view of the mountains and the landscape. 

There is our ship in the fjord patiently waiting for our return

We traveled quite some distance before the big bus left Highway 1 and navigated a narrow, curving road up the steep side of the valley to another waterfall.

Nykurhylsfoss, also called Sveinsstekksfoss, spilled over basalt and crashed over the outcrops in a rush of wild whitewater. It was noisy and breathtaking. There were hints of a trail climbing above the falls and following the river that fed it, but that would be for another day, and no doubt another life.

Every waterfall I saw in Iceland made me hunger for more, and they are everywhere. From tiny rivulets to raging torrents, every one seemed to have its own personality and, I imagined, its own spirit.

I later learned that local folklore says a nykur once lived in the pool beneath Nykurhylsfoss. A nykur is an Icelandic water spirit, usually appearing as a horse and associated with lakes, rivers and waterfalls. Unlike the trolls turned to stone or the generally more benign huldufólk, the "hidden people," the nykur was decidedly not friendly. Stories describe it enticing people onto its back and carrying them into the water.

But what I felt was definitely friendly.  Maybe it was the way it would entice people to climb the falls and walk the river.  Who knows. Whatever I felt there, it wasn't sinister. The place felt ancient and alive, but somehow welcoming.

But it wasn't a day for hiking, and all too soon we were herded back into the bus to crawl back down the winding steep dirt road to the main highway.

As we drove along the shore, I noticed large circular enclosures floating in Berufjörður. We were told they were sea cages used for fish farming, primarily salmon. 

Our guide talked about some of the controversy surrounding fish farming in Iceland, including foreign ownership and concerns about its effects on wild fish and the surrounding environment.

At one spot along the shore, the bus pulled into a large turnout to give us an opportunity to walk along the rocky beach. I wasn't particularly excited about trying to hobble over slippery bowling balls, so I enjoyed the beach from a safe distance instead. 

Several tiny wildflowers tucked among the beach grasses caught my eye.

With those delicate blue-viloet bell and those narrow leaves, the blue flower is harebell (Campanula rotundifolia), which is native in Eastern Iceland. 

The extraordinary little golden-tipped stamens arranged around the center are characteristic of Parnassia, specifically grass-of-Parnassus (Parnassia palustris). It loves damp, cool northern habitats, and an Icelandic fjord shoreline is right in its wheelhouse.

Once again back on the bus, we returned to the tiny town, where I noticed a few small businesses, including an inviting brewery. 

Mo and I settled into the warm atmosphere of sunlight and wood and enjoyed a cold beer.

It seemed like the perfect way to end our afternoon.

We were happily settled back in our stateroom when I suddenly realized we were missing a bag. It was a small fabric bag that we had been using throughout the cruise to carry miscellaneous things, including Mo's phone.

It was nowhere.

We searched frantically through the room before finally accepting that it was gone. I began retracing our steps. I knew I had it when we visited the waterfall. Had we taken it into the brewery? Maybe we'd left it there. Or on the bus? I was almost certain it was at the brewery.

Trying not to panic, I called the main desk and explained what we had lost and where we thought it might be. They promised to let us know if they found anything.

A while later the phone rang and I answered expectantly, only to learn that the bag hadn't been left at the brewery.

There wasn't much more we could do. We accepted the loss and decided to have dinner that evening in The Restaurant. It was a lovely meal, although somewhat dampened by the loss of Mo's phone. There are so many things stored on a phone that you never think about until suddenly it is gone.

After dinner we returned to our stateroom.

Once again, the phone rang.

This time it was good news. Viking had tracked our missing bag to the driver of Bus Number 3. Sure enough, that was exactly where I had left it...tied safely to the seat in front of us.

Viking had gone far beyond what I would have expected to track down our lost belongings and get them back to us. We were both a bit giddy with relief, and it was with an entirely different attitude that we went to the evening show honoring the Viking crew on stage.

The evening sunset was the perfect ending to a day that had gone from wonderful to awful and, wonderfully, back again.

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!