“So you’re leaving someplace cold, to go someplace colder?!” they said to me. My response was, “why not!?” Almost two years ago when we first met, my boyfriend and I had talked about how the Northern Lights were on the top of our bucket list. So once we found out he was deploying to Afghanistan, we decided now was the time regardless of the season.
Most people travel to Iceland in the summer months, when the weather is quite a bit warmer and certainly much less sporadic. Traveling in the winter we ran into changing weather almost every 20 minutes but in reality made for much better photos and certainly much more of an adventure. At one point we were being driven back to a town by a local fisherman and the Mayor of a small town because we had been stranded on the side of the road in a blizzard with white out conditions and wind that could lift me off the ground.
Our trip started in Reykjavik and went along the south coast as far as Hofn, and back up through the Snaefellsnes Penninsula. Along the way we hiked the ice caves in Jokulsaron, relaxed in some hot spring lagoons, and photographed everything from a plane wreck to sheep and everything in between. We carried out the tradition of swigging a shot of Brenivin after eating the foul fermented shark. My recommendation, chew as little as possible. On the last night we had given up on seeing the Northern Lights. We had searched all week for them with every night being cloudy, snowy, and rainy. About 100 yards outside of the lights in Reykjavik we jammed on the breaks in the car once realizing the clouds above us weren’t clouds anymore. Instead they were dancing colors!
My advice to you. Take a trip. Take a chance. And don’t necessarily go when everyone else tells you to go.