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.