Iceland? It’s even cooler than it sounds...
Simon Mayo is awestruck by an incredible array of volcanoes, glaciers – and big woolly jumpers
Magnus the Jeep driver, tour guide and volcanologist, has just explained that Hekla, Iceland’s largest volcano, could blow at any time. An eruption is, in fact, overdue. Given that he has just spent three hours driving us to within a pumice-throw of the summit, you might think he’d have told us that before. ‘Er, how much warning do you get?’ I ask, hoping that I don’t sound too pitiful.
Magnus smiles knowingly. This is, of course, part of his routine and I am his willing stooge. ‘The last eruption was in 2000,’ he says. ‘From the first rumble to the first eruption? About 70 minutes.’
I look back at the vertiginous, ash-strewn track that brought us here and I can’t be the only one to have images of a mad Fast And Furious-style descent, pursued by a landslide of molten lava. That Magnus would eventually triumph against nature in all its fury, no-one has any doubt. Because Magnus is a hero.
Arriving in Reykjavik for the start of our trip, I recall the DNA test I took a few years back (for a BBC feature rather than any police work) and my delight at being declared of Viking ancestry. Maybe I’m going home. Maybe I’ll feel at home in the land of my forefathers.
As we enter our hotel, the receptionist smiles and opens her arms wide. ‘Welcome!’ she cries. Has she instantly recognised one of her own? Perhaps not. As my wife Hilary points out, Icelanders are welcoming, helpful and generous hosts.
Reykjavik is undeniably cool: coffee shops, record shops and thick woolly jumper shops are everywhere. At breakfast, the croissant and yogurt have an old record player and a pile of vinyl placed next to them and a sign which says: ‘Please play me!’
We have a day to prepare ourselves for our travels around the country, so we stock up on coffee, music and woolly jumpers.
In one store they are playing a more unusual tune which turns out to be Iceland’s national song. It seems that, with no pomp and very little ceremony, a new president has been installed, Iceland’s first for 20 years. Gudni Johannesson was a student at Warwick University in England. This is even better news – not just my people but my university too. I have another coffee to celebrate.
But coffee is expensive. In fact, everything is expensive. Assume almost €6 for a coffee, €16 for a paperback. It soon proves quite easy to just give up and pay up.
Stumping up 1,750 krona (about €13) will get you into the Saga Museum. All of Iceland’s ancient history is here. Lurid waxworks and a fascinating commentary tell stories of discovery, hardship and pouring molten lead down your enemy’s throat. If you have the stomach for it, you can then join the queue for hotdogs – the only way to eat for under €24 a head.
We give the Whales Of Iceland tour a miss (too expensive), and avoid the Penis Museum (didn’t fancy the gift shop) and instead head out of town.
Treats in Iceland often come with geothermal springs attached. We visit the Secret Lagoon at Fludir and find very hot pools, black gravel underfoot, and steam and sulphur in the air. These Icelanders really are the cleanest folk ever.
Skin glowing, we get back in the car, but driving in Iceland can be tricky – every turn in the road, every headland, every valley has a wish-I-wasn’t-driving moment.
Stunning waterfalls, ancient lava flows and snow-capped volcanoes produce so many gasps of wonder that even my Pokémon-hunting teen Joe puts down his phone.
Gullfoss is an early contender for ‘best day evs’. A thrilling, thunderous waterfall in the canyon of the Hvita river, the path takes you right to its edge and you then grin manically as you’re enveloped in a freezing spray.
And then we meet Magnus. Once you’ve ‘done’ a waterfall you obviously have to ‘do’ a volcano,
and Magnus is your man. He takes us past Eyjafjallajökull, the eruption from which caused all those flight delays in 2010. We try to get its pronunciation right but in the end resort to the American networks’ lazy use of ‘E15’, which sounds more like a dermatological cream than a volcano.
Magnus is a showman but he has a lot to be showy about. The gradual climb up Hekla, watching the vegetation give way to lava and ash, becomes our new top-rated trip.
But holiday passions are short-lived and within two days, even Hekla has been deposed. We take the long drive east to the largest glacier in Iceland, Vatnajökull. It covers 9% of the country and where it meets the sea, it becomes a magical place – the glacial lake Jökulsárlón.
It is one of Iceland’s many natural wonders, but on a sparklingly sunny day it is hard to imagine anywhere more breathtaking. And as a bonus, it keeps changing.
Our boat is steered by Thorstone, an occasional pilot, carpenter, farmer and model, who negotiates a path through slow-moving icebergs. Some are a translucent blue, others pure white, some spliced with black ash stripes.
One looks as ancient as the lake itself but Thorstone the wonder-man tells us it floated up from the deep just yesterday. He smiles his broad superhero smile again and everyone knows they have become smitten with his ancient country.
The food in Iceland is no great shakes, the price of everything is ridiculous, and even with a willing heart and a good phrase book, the language is close to impossible. But get here before everyone else does because Iceland feels like a country that, as with an awakening volcano, is just beginning to erupt.
And chaps, if you can grow a beard and rock a top-knot, you too can be a modern-day Viking.