Viking Cruises sails to remote reaches of Iceland
Comical birds and amusing locals make for an entertaining voyage to the remote reaches of Iceland.
Off Iceland’s remote western coast, the Denmark Strait’s petrol-blue waves buckle and churn, slamming against our Zodiac as we struggle to hold tight. And then something extraordinary happens. Something we have all been hoping for but dared not expect. As if Moses has arrived to calm our passage, those angry waves split apart – and silence falls.
Soon, clouds of vapour erupt from unseen blowholes and the chilly air resounds with cetacean sighs. The sea becomes a swirling mass of humpbacks, emerging from the depths in sleek black synchronicity.
The whales’ slow-mo dance is unfathomably graceful, bested only by their descending tails, signalling their departure. Witnessing this scene is a highlight of my week-long circumnavigation of Iceland on one of Viking Cruises’ “Welcome Back” itineraries.
I fell for the moss-freckled lava fields of Reykjavik’s hinterland a few years ago, and now I’m appreciating how easily this cruise ship can access Iceland’s isolated regions. For land-based visitors, that’s not always possible. With a climate that habitually chucks four seasons at you in one day, Iceland’s roads often close, rendered hazardous by ice and snow.
This being summer, there’s no truly crazy weather. Instead, we muddle through the kaleidoscopic climate, buoyed by adventurous excursions: riding squat, accommodating Icelandic horses; kayaking among jellyfish; revving ATVs over volcanic slopes, and wallowing in off-the-beaten-track geothermal baths.
Rarely visited but with unparalleled natural beauty, the deeply indented West Fjords are attached to the mainland by a narrow isthmus. Sailing overnight from Reykjavik, we dock at Isafjordur, the west’s “capital”. Shouldered by the Arctic Circle, winters here are ferocious, yet right now the sun is making a tentative appearance. Marshmallow clouds and an ice-blue sky are the backdrop as we boat across to tiny Vigur. Its scatter of clapboard houses, sharply defined against the chilly sunshine, evoke the paintings of the American landscape artist Winslow Homer.
The island plays host to the esteemed British polar explorer Felicity Aston, her husband, Gisli, and their four-year-old son. The couple bought Vigur a few years ago, primarily to save it from bland holiday accommodation. It is notable for seabirds, and we arrive to a soundtrack of noisy chaos, guano peppering the paths. Some 4000 eider ducks join guillemots here, alongside terns, screeching through the skies like bully-boy swifts. Every April about 40,000 puffins return from their annual jaunt to Africa.
This wild, far-flung world seems an odd lifestyle choice for a young family. Yet, however potentially lonely, it’s a profitable one too. The eider ducks sunning their plump bodies on the pebbles readily exchange their fluffy down for a nesting layer of waterproof hay. Eiderdown is a rare commodity and, once cleaned, a kilogram can sell for $2000-$2780. Given the couple’s annual yield of about 50kg, that’s an impressive income.
“We get visited by the national down inspector,” Gisli says with a smile. “He examines our hoard puff by puff. The stray feather is definitely frowned upon.” He leads us past pretty mustard-coloured houses and a UNESCO-listed 19th-century clinker boat.
Back aboard Viking Jupiter, we explore the elegant ship, which is just two years old. I find fabulous original artwork and Scandi detailing such as reindeer rugs, cashmere throws and cream sofas. I’m in a penthouse veranda stateroom (all staterooms have balconies) and at night I gaze upon unending skies and the ethereal colour show of early dawns.
Sunsets bring convivial cocktail sessions in the Explorers’ Lounge, while more active souls make use of the infinity pool. Enrichment lectures on Viking history and Iceland’s geology are exemplary, as is the evening entertainment. Best of all, there’s no casino.
Likewise the food is pretty much faultless. Highlights include a five-course Asian tasting menu at the Chef’s Table, alongside World Cafe’s seafood feast of langoustines, scallops, prawns and Icelandic cod. The staff quickly memorise my preferences: ginger-pepped green juice at breakfast, that 11am flat white, an evening glass of prosecco. Even my intolerance to capsicum is noted.
Cosseted on board, we become old hands at coping with unpredictable weather by the time we reach Iceland’s barren north. Its main town, Akureyri, has a mild climate and an ice-free port, so off come the fleeces as we tour the region’s lakes, waterfalls and, at Dimmuborgir, contorted lava towers set amid birch scrub. With its bubbling mudpools belching sulphuric stink and mind-blowing heat, this landscape would gladden the heart of a latter-day Dante. Then inferno gives way to paradise: the glacial lakes at Skutustadir, and Godafoss’s thundering milky-green waterfalls.
As the week unfolds we accumulate unforgettable experiences. Iceland’s east ushers in fog, an eerie veil that covers lava fields freckled with puffy white cotton grass. Although the east spans a third of the country, its population is tiny and it’s the weather that’s to blame. Snow striates the basalt mountains as we travel to Vok Baths, perhaps Iceland’s most unsung geothermal pools. Opened a couple of years ago and designed to harmonise with the surroundings, these hot spring baths float on Lake Urridavatn. We brave its icy depths only after spending a pleasant couple of hours wallowing in bubbling warmth.
Further east we meet Gauti Johannesson, former mayor and former fisherman of tiny Djupivogur. He regales us with Icelandic folklore, the stories of so-called “hidden people”. After telling a tale of a knife-wielding witchy beauty, he proudly introduces us to his songstress wife.
In a vast fish oil tank that has been scrubbed clean and lit with flickering candles, she treats us to a recital. The odd acoustics reverberate her exquisite songs of trolls and elves through semi-darkness; we sit goosepimpled, eyes watering from barely suppressed emotion.
Moments like these are a significant part of what makes our cruise so special. Icelandic guides never resort to the usual by-rote commentaries often experienced on other voyages.
Instead, their talks reveal a palpable sense of national pride, combined with eccentric charm and humour. Each is a vivid insight into the mindset of Icelandic people: chatty, conspiratorial, superstitious, fond of a drink. Most important, they are happy to share their take on life in this intensely diverse and sparsely populated country.
This is particularly true at Heimaey in the south, on the puffin-stuffed Westman Islands. Guide Eveline joyfully indicates the town’s only traffic lights, then announces, tutting: “Oh, there’s Elsa crossing the road. Off to buy ice cream … as usual.” We laugh at this mocking reproof, but quieten on hearing about the 1973 earthquake that nearly destroyed the community. Amazingly, every islander was rescued. “The elderly had left their dentures behind,” adds our guide, eyes twinkling. “The rescuers made a return journey and brought them all back in one plastic bag. Nobody knew whose teeth belonged to whom.”
The reality of this tempestuous island is also palpable when later we jostle over Heimaey’s steep volcanic dips and rises on juddering ATVs, the bleak starkness of its grey-black hinterland a sobering reminder of just how precarious this landscape can be. It’s not hard to appreciate why Icelanders put such an emphasis on appreciating life’s funny side.
In the know
Viking Cruises’ Iceland’s Majestic Landscapes itinerary is a 13-day voyage between Bergen in Norway and Reykjavik. Viking Jupiter sails north up the Norwegian coast, across to the Faroe Islands and on to Iceland. Shorter Iceland itineraries available.
Louise Roddon was a guest of Viking Cruises.
THE TIMES
This article was originally published in December 2021 and has since been updated.