Iceland is the kind of land that feels exceptionally generous to the one who drives.

Like one of those cliche travel phrases that grinds the craw of every discerning traveller, Iceland is the kind of place where the journey is the destination – not because of some tall ideal that goes around in circles only to point towards some kind of revelation about self-love or discovery- but because, quite literally, the landscape on the road transforms so drastically with every passing mile that it can feel like you just wandered through twenty different destinations without ever leaving the course of the same winding road. Every vista feels like something that should be stopped and marvelled at, every open road beckons with endless possibility.

It’s no wonder it’s said that the greatest gift is afforded to the one who drives in Iceland. Here, every detour is a promise of an unexpected encounter ripened perfectly for the kind of person who thrives on a road trip; where a random cliff might just end up revealing itself unto you as a glacier, the siren calls of a gushing tide a hint of a distant cascading waterfall; where a simple puddle of water you spot by a secluded roadside mysteriously starts bubbling, and you pause to wonder if perhaps, you’d just stumbled upon something more.

Because that pause, is a gift.
The freedom to decide, spontaneously, that you’d like to stop in the middle of nowhere to explore your curiosity, is a gift.
The liberty to determine, independently and unencumbered, that no amount of time is too long to spend at the Geysir- even as it erupts before you for the hundredth time- is a gift.

And that is because, in an expanse as vast and varied and voracious as Iceland, the freedom to explore it as and how you will, unfettered and unhurried, is a gift.

I came to Iceland fully cognizant of the tradeoffs I would face without a self-drive (tldr: I can’t drive). I knew there were certain destinations I would have to write off (the Sólheimasandur plane crash); certain crowds I would not escape (Blue Lagoon, the entire Golden Circle); certain dreams I would have to kiss goodbye altogether (any semblance of a road trip beyond Reykjavik). This isn’t some frenzied megacity built on an infrastructure made to serve multi-millions. With a population of just 300,000, there are more sheep than humans on this land- and it shows, most markedly in its transport coverage where, in some places, the frequency of public buses is not just ‘lesser’, it’s seasonal. It was clear from the outset that if Iceland was a place I wanted to go, then Iceland was a place I would have to do on a tour; and this meant- whether I liked it or not- fixed schedules, packed itineraries, and brief touch-and-go moments of hustle and haste when all I really wanted to feel was its soul.

My secret to having a successful driveless itinerary in Iceland? Don’t lament your limitations. Perhaps it’s not cost-efficient for you to rent a car; perhaps you don’t want to navigate foreign lands; or perhaps, like me, you simply cannot drive. Whatever it is, be honest with yourself about your circumstance, and move on with some kind of a resonance with reality. Because the more you choose to fixate on all the things you’re missing out on without a self-drive, the worse your time in Iceland is going to be guaranteed – not because of the actualities of your experiences by any measure; but because, quite regretably, of all those voices of dissonance inside your own head.

FIELD NOTES: All that said, there will be traces of laments in the following section as we delve deeper into all the things I did in Iceland without a self-drive- not because I wish to be incongruous with all three hundred words that I’d just said; but because I am earnest in wanting to provide only the most honest take on my own experiences – and that has to include the good… and the laments.

In any case, here’s everything that I did in Iceland, without a drive.

GLACIER HIKING

A glacier hike in Iceland is not just a trek; it is a journey into an ethereal, icy world that few get to experience up close. Expect to be awestruck by the sheer beauty of the glaciers’ ice formations – think glowing blue crevasses, intricate ice sculptures, and expansive white landscapes stretching into the horizon. The silence here is almost deafening, punctuated only by the occasional creak of shifting ice, the distant sound of melting water trickling through the glacier- and of course, the crunch of your crampons as they sink into the ice with every wary step.

Contrary to what it looks, the environment on a glacier hike is not as cold as you’d imagine. Personally, I found the air to be more refreshing and invigorating than chilling; and for most part, I’d best recommend this as a guided activity than a solo expedition, if for no other reason then for safety. This is a potentially dangerous terrain that requires certain knowledge and expertise plus a bunch of essential equipment to go along (ice axes, helmets, harnesses, footwear, the likes); unless this is something you do for a living/serious hobby, a tour saves you on so many different fronts, including the need to invest in a truckload of gear you’re probably never going to use again.

BLUE LAGOON

If you went to Iceland and didn’t go to the Blue Lagoon, did you really go to Iceland at all?

The unfortunate truth about attempting the Blue Lagoon on a tour is that, here, the downsides to travelling as part of a group becomes a lot more pronounced. For one, you operate on a set timetable – which, yes, is the very epitome of how tours work; but at the Blue Lagoon this means that you come just as all the other tour groups are arriving; and you leave just as they leave. It is a pretty enclosed space so expect queues and crowds throughout- from the bathrooms to the pools and everywhere in between; and more likely than not, you will also not have ample time to explore all the other facilities there because the Lagoon pool is just too good to desert for fringe activties, especially when you’re on a tight leash.

That said, I am an introvert; I don’t like crowded places; I did the Blue Lagoon on a tour when I was in Iceland, and… I still kind of enjoyed it.

My day at the Blue Lagooon was one where the crowd could be considered a relative hive of activity. I had to wait in line before getting into the main pool area that was already filled with a sea of bobbing heads, and even the changing rooms were constantly occupied with visitors coming and going, steady steam billowing from amidst the shower stalls. Fortuitously- or perhaps, that just might be the way things are in Iceland- everyone seemed respectful in navigating shared spaces, and I even managed to carve out a sliver of Lagoon that turned out to be mine and mine only, the entire time I was there. No one behaved overtly loud or commotional; and despite all the drawbacks of being on a group tour which did manifest themselves one way or another, it still turned out quite the restorative act it’d promised me it’d be.

THE BLACK SAND BEACHES OF SMALL-TOWN VIK

Vík is a picturesque little coastal village at the heart of Iceland’s rugged south coast, where time slows to a standstill and nature reigns supreme.

Nestled between rolling green hills and the roaring ocean, Vík embodies the very essence of remote tranquility and untamed beauty typically synonymous with ancient lands; complete with centuries-old Icelandic houses built with corrugated iron roofs and rough-hewn stones that stand huddled together against the elements. The town is famous for its 150-year old church and a very adorable lighthouse; but of course, the biggest spotlight here is on none other than the stunning black sand beaches themselves, a magnificent natural wonder that lays as a striking contrast against the frothy white waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

Here in Vík, the beaches are black because, unlike traditional beaches, the sand here is composed of fine grains of black volcanic ash (Iceland is infamous for its volcanic activity, particularly in the town of Vik); and the black pebbles are residual fragments of volcanic lava, smoothed and rounded over centuries by waves and currents.

A word of caution: do not attempt to swim these beaches because the tides are relentless and many before you have died doing so.

Vik, of all places, was the one destination that I was particularly thankful to have been able to accomplish without a car. For one, it is situated close to three hours out of Reykajavik; and under most circumstances, I would likely not have been able to have made it at all.

While a tour meant that I could not explore it as immersively as I wanted, I cannot deny that Vik was also integral in awakening a spark in me; one which made me realize that my mind connects better when left in simpler, more intimate places like this, when life unfolds a little more subtly and the rhythm to its bustle moves just that little bit slow.

And for the next few years, this would go on to fundamentally shape the way I travel.

WHALE WATCHING

Technically, I don’t see how an average visitor would be able to navigate a whale-watching experience in Iceland without being part of a group tour… but.

My personal tip to booking a whale watching tour- not just in Iceland, but anywhere in this world- is to look out for operators that provide flexibile itineraries or even alternative activities (e.g., birdwatching, seal spotting), in case of unfavorable conditions.

I caught nary a glimpse of anything on my own whale watch (and did not think to look out for flexible itineraries then); yet strangely, the experience somehow still managed to even itself out in its own way. I was afforded the chance to experience Iceland from a very different perspective; and those rare moments I spent out on the open sea, surrounded by Iceland’s majestic scenery, left an indelible impression on me. It would have been better with whales, needless to say; but, it was still kind of good, without.

HORSE RIDING

Did you know that in Iceland, when a horse is brought out of the country (whether for competition or- I don’t know, what other reasons do people take horses travelling for?), said horse is no longer allowed back in after?

There is a remarkable feature about Icelandic horses that are unique to them and them only – and that is in the way they move. All horses Walk, Trot, Canter, and Gallop – but only (and literally only) Icelandic horses are known to also Tölt and Pace.

Naturally, it can feel like the most abnormal thing in the world to be atop a Pacing horse (there’s a reason why this gait is sometimes referred to as the Flying Pace, and considered the crown of horsemanship), so if you ever find yourself at an Icelandic horse farm, make sure you are completely transparent about your riding capabilities because Icelandic horses are not exactly where you want to begin inflating your skillset.

Of all the things I did in Iceland as a group, this was probably the one activity where being on a tour bothered me the least. In fact, I preferred it that way. The Icelandic horse is as crazy as it is magnificent; and as much as I wanted to be left alone with one, I also kind of did not dare to be left alone with one. Perhaps this might also explain why once they step out of the country, they are never allowed back. Because the Icelandic horses are about as unblemished as anything in this world comes. They have not been cross-bred in more than a thousand years. They have the purest bloodline of all the horses in the world. Their genetics have remained unmodified through all this time- and in many ways, they’re kind of like the Malfoys, but perhaps, a thousand times more formidable.

NORTHERN LIGHTS

One of the (many) things Iceland does extremely well is the Aurora Borealis; and it’s difficult to outdo a Northern Lights hunt that is led by anyone other than yourself (especially if you’re doing it for the first time).

I have riden shotgun in at least two different Northern Lights expeditions in my life and personally witnessed what being in the lead of a hunt is like, and I would say, the stress is a little unbecoming.

A Northern Lights hunt is one of those things where having an expert do all the work, works. Look out for tour operators that offer you a complimentary second trip in the event that the first one doesn’t pan out. Having subsequently repeated this activity in both Sweden and Finland, I believe it is fair to say that this unicorn offer does not exist anywhere else but in Iceland; so take it, cherish it, and use it to your full benefit (it was how I got to see them in the end, anyway).

THE STROKKUR GEYSIR

Unlike the Northern Lights, this phenomenon is a lot more guaranteed (at least for now); specifically, the Strokkur Geysir erupts once every four to ten minutes round the clock, so you’re guaranteed to catch it at least once if not twice, even on a tight timeline.

It always starts the same, a low gurgling sound coming from a crater in the ground that quickly gives rise to a small bubbling pool of water and misty vapour. The vapour soon becomes thick enough to cloud your vision of the crater; and always- always, just when you least expect it – even as you are expecting it, a column of boiling water shoots all the way skyward from below the ground, grandstanding the force of nature before you in all of its glory.

You feel the warmth of the steam on your face, you realize you’ve been holding your breath, you wonder what would happen if so much as even a drop of that water landed on you – and in seconds everything is over and you find yourself transfixed, again, staring at the gaping hole and willing for it to happen all over once more.

Because it is a (relatively) fringe sight, the Strokkur Geysir often gets combined with a handful of other destinations (such as the Gullfoss waterfall, Þingvellir National Park, the Kerið volcanic crater, sometimes even the historic Diocese of Skálholt) to form what is famously known as the Golden Circle Tour. There is no telling exactly how long each eruption will take, so count yourself lucky if your guide allows you to witness the Geysir in action for more than five times- most would be shooing you along after the third.

To my best knowledge, no one does a dedicated tour just for the Geysir (a pity, if you ask me); which makes this one of those unfortunate moments where you’d wish you did drive here on your own, just so you can make an entire experience out of it.

SKOGAFOSS WATERFALL

Stepping into Skógafoss Waterfall is like stepping into a scene from a fairy tale. It’s the kind of place that captures the magical spirit of Iceland so succinctly and leaves you entirely slack-jawed that for a while you feel that it’s almost justified to miss out on all the periphery pursuits, just for a chance to lay eyes on it.

What do I mean?

Well, one thing you will never get to discover if you visit Skógafoss Waterfall on a tour is the steep staircase situated at the right of the falls that leads you to an observation platform at the top. The climb is challenging and the road is tough, but you won’t have to worry about any of it if you’re here on tour because you will have neither time nor space to venture that far.

If this leaves you feeling forty kinds of unaccomplished that you just cannot shake, consider ditching the tour and taking the public bus instead, which runs between Reykjavik and Skógar twice a day in the summer. It’s three hours each way so that’s one thing to note*; also, if you’re there any other season but summer, you really might have no choice but to yield to the inevitability of a tour – the alternative, of course, is to throw a full resistance and flat-out refuse to see it at all – an option I would be remiss to mention that I highly do not reccommend.

*You can circumvent the pain of this long bus ride by putting up in Skógar overnight, and returning to Reykjavik only the next day.

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