I have to admit that there were some bathroom issues at the start of my fifth morning in Reykjavík, Iceland. Dairy will do that. It also didn’t help that I was wearing a one-piece bathing suit, which is not the easiest to keep changing out of. 

Why was I wearing a bathing suit in the cold and rainy environment of Iceland? You’ll see.

As I had the day before, I walked out of our Airbnb apartment in Old Town Reykjavík and walked across the street to bus stop #1 City Hall. This time, however, I was alone. I’d sent my parents off on a tour of the Golden Circle which I had taken circa 2017 and was ready to embark on an adventure of my own. 

I waited beside the cement structure of the Icelandic City Hall with its living wall and water feature until I saw a van drive up with the “Adventure Vikings” logo on the side. 

The young man who got out of the driver’s seat looked about my age with light brown hair, earrings, and round glasses (similar to my own). 

“Snorkeling and horseback riding?” I asked.

“Ye-es,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Climbing inside the van, I began to wonder if it would just be me on the tour. As we drove, I explained that I was from Hawaii, that I was traveling with my family, but that I had sent them off on the Golden Circle tour today. 

I asked if he was from Iceland.

“Do I look like I’m from Iceland?” he responded in a sassy voice.

“No,” I said.

“I’m from Mexico City.”

We ended up picking up two more passengers, honeymooners from Philadelphia, who were on one of their first out of the country adventures together. We drove south again toward Þellinger National Park where we would be snorkeling between tectonic plates. 

That’s right. Snorkeling. In the water. Which is cold. Like really cold. 

Why would we do this? Actually, I’d wanted to snorkel in Iceland since the last time I’d been there two years ago. During that trip, I stayed in the Kex Hostel and had met a solo traveler who was planning to snorkel a few hours after breakfast. At the time, I’d been totally shocked. It was march and snow still covered the land, turning tall volcanoes into mysterious white forms. The thought of getting into any sort of water seemed totally insane.

And also totally cool. I mean, swimming between tectonic plates?? It was my childhood mermaid fantasy times 10. 

Now that I was back in the country, I wasn’t going to miss my own opportunity to partake in this activity. And, I was even going to try to use a wetsuit instead of a drysuit in the warm-er… September weather. 

Arriving in Þellinger National Park

On our drive to Þellinger National Park, we could actually see the tectonic plates outside of the Silfra river. We wove our way into the park and came to a parking lot with about four other tour vans. Then we waited until a few other snorkelers walked over from the parking lot down the road.   

Once everyone who was going on our thirty-minute swim had gathered, it was time to learn about what, exactly, we’d signed up for. 

It turned out, the driver who’d picked us up in Reykjavík was also going to be our snorkeling guide. He explained a bit more about where we would be snorkeling, showing us on a map that he held in both hands. He went on, with a dry sense of humor (pun intended), to explain the difference between a wetsuit and a dry suit. 

Dry suit enables you to wear long underwear, stay dry, and ultimately, stay warm. 

A wet suit? Not so much. 

As it turns out, I was the only one crazy enough to choose a wetsuit—and I was beginning to question my choices. 

Still, I love to swim and I wanted the option of being able to dive down and actually swim between the plates. 

(Cut to me freezing to death. Just kidding I’m still alive!)

Next, we had to actually get into our suits. 

On our way to the park, I’d explained to our guide that I’d had to cancel the e-bike tour I’d scheduled for the following day. It turns out, I was too short to actually ride the bikes. 

So, when he went off in search of a wet suit for me, he looked down from the van and said, “Baby sized, right?”

“Not too baby sized,” I responded quickly—imagining squeezing into a child’s size wetsuit. Not happening.

“You see this?” He pointed to a mark on the side of the van. A mark that was above my head, “are you taller than this?”

I shook my head.

“This is baby size.”

Once I had my wetsuit, he had to deliver my “shoesitas” as well which went under the tight layer of material. 

For the dry suit folks, they stripped down to a single base layer before putting on a thermal onesie. I, on the other hand, undressed until I was only in my bathing suit.

Then it was time to pull the wetsuit up and over my torso and thighs. Not easy. It almost made me regret all of the beer, bread, and dairy I’d enjoyed on this trip (almost, but not quite). 

I can’t say that I was the only one to have a bit of an experience with their suits…

 Each drysuit had to be tight around the body so that no water whatsoever could get inside. As the two guys on the tour stood there in their suits, our guide pulled out a rubber collar from inside a bin and walked over to fasten it around someone’s neck.

“Here we go,” he said, “you know, some people really like this part.”

“Might as well shove a ball in my mouth,” the guy responded without missing a beat.

“People pay good money for that in Amsterdam,” our guide quipped, sending us all into giggles.

Jokes aside, it was time to grab our goggles and flippers and head down to the mouth of the Silfra.

Snorkeling in the Silfra River in Þellinger National Park

At the Silfra river, we all had to spit into our goggles to create a natural lubricant for them, which would help to prevent them from fogging up. Strangely, I finished adding saliva into my goggles first.

“Wow,” said our guide, “you’re good.”

… Not quite the talent I’ve hoped for, but at least I can say I’m good at something?

Then it was time to get into the water and swim.

Actually, before we got into the water, we took one smiling picture. I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever looked this sexy in my entire life. I’m single, boys, feel free to holla at me. 

Now back to the dive.

To be honest, I wasn’t as cold as I’d expected to be as we made our way over the vast valleys of rock. 

It was absolutely incredible. The water was unbelievably clear and fresh enough to drink. Below, were deep valleys created by the parallel tectonic plates. Taking a deep breath through my snorkel, I could kick down between them, clutching at my nose and loosening pressure from my ears.

Side note: I look SO good in a snorkeling mask. Remember to take more pictures in a snorkeling mask.

Unfortunately, my lungs aren’t as strong as they used to be, and I couldn’t stay down between the cliffs for very long. Still, it felt like I was in my own magical world down there. Think Splash meets The Fifth Element. 

As someone who has spent a lot of time picturing what a modern club/nightlife would be in the underwater city of Atlantis, this was spectacular. 

And everything was so blue. Unbelievably blue. So blue and so clear. But also strange white algae-moss clinging to the rocks and swaying slowly as the water moved around it. 

After a while, although my body was still fairly warm, my feet started to go numb, and it was harder to kick myself under the water. It was still incredible, but without being able to swim deep beneath the surface, I started to feel the cold everywhere. 

When we got out of the water, I couldn’t stop shaking, and was grateful to be heading back to the vans where I could dry off. 

Stripping back the top half of my wetsuit, our guide commanded each of us to “take down our pants and sit down.”

So, pulling on the suits until they were below our waists, we sat on the benches (I fell over trying to get on one the first time - duh) and he tugged them off the rest of the way. 

Then, wrapped in a swimmer’s jacket lined with fleece, I warmed up and deck-changed back into my clothes. 

After that, there was some time to kill before the next van came to pick me up for horseback riding. I walked around a bit then returned just in time for the van to come. 

Horseback riding in Iceland: Laxnes Family Horse Farm

I was the only one who would be heading to the riding portion of the activity. I was driven to the Laxnes Family Farm and my new van driver showed me inside. He let the owner know I was there, then headed off.

Before he left, actually, he let me know that it was always like this with the combo snorkeling/horseback riding tours. There was always a bit of time to kill before the next riding tour would begin. So, I could make myself comfortable in the little dining area, buy some homemade vegetable soup, and they would let me know when it was time to ride. 

And that’s exactly what I did. 

The owner and his father were both in the little dining area. The elder slapped me on the back, “you’re a professional rider, right?” he joked.

Looking around, I noticed that the walls featured pictures of him. And not alone. He was featured at horse shows with prizes as well as next to the President of Iceland and Viggo Mortensen. Color me impressed!

The younger man offered me some coffee before heading around the corner to grab his two sons. A previous guest was interested to hear about a blacksmithing workshop that the boys were creating right there on the farm. 

I couldn’t hear everything, but it sounded like the two had recently set something on fire by accident. Is there already a “overheard in Iceland” Instagram account? Because I feel like that content would be gold. 

I sat there for quite a while and paid for some soup (which was delicious). The two sons served themselves then sat down at a nearby table. Soon the daughter and another teenage girl came in and sat down with them. 

I loved how typical of a conversation it was. Teasing each other, the boys called the girls annoying and the girls laughed at them.

It made me happy to think that teenagers are teenagers, wherever they are. Whether they’re in the city, in the suburbs, or on a remote farm in Iceland. They’re still going to be awkward. Still try to flirt. Still fail at it. And still pretend to find each other annoying. 

This fact would only become even more apparent to me because, unlike the tour before me, these girls would be my guides into the mountains. 

Horseback riding through Iceland

The riding itself was a lot of fun. I’ve really missed horses (and love the fact that Icelandic Horses are the perfect size for me). However, it was hilarious following these two teenagers around. Unlike professional, more seasoned guides (who probably would have provided some sort of insight into the surrounding landscape or history of the farm),  all they really wanted to do was talk to each other, gossiping or discussing their favorite horses. #HorseGirls

It was like if I’d been asked to give a tour of Circle Z barn (where I rode from ages 10-17) as a preteen. It would probably have ended up being myself and a couple of friends whispering about our latest junior high crushes and which type of saddle we wished we could buy. 

Though it would have been nice to have guides who could tell us a bit more about the terrain, life on the farm, the horses, their characteristics, and who could have taught us to try each of their five unique gaits, it was fun to reminisce about my own “horse girl” days and also to just be silent with the wild lava fields surrounding me and a spirited horse beneath. The views were spectacular. I’m talking breathtaking. I’m talking triple rainbows, volcanic mountain peaks, rushing rivers, and breathtaking waterfalls. 

Of course, they checked on everyone from time to time, which made me smile, thinking about their dad and what he would ask them when they got back.

“How did the tour go? Did everyone have a good time? Did you help them?”

“Yeah, dad, of course.”

Though these girls were much better riders than I ever was (one of them chose to go bareback on a horse she’d never ridden without a saddle before), they were still the same teenagers that I’d been. And that actually made it such an authentic experience. 

Back in Reykjavík

At the end of the day, I returned to Reykjavík and walked up to the little airbnb. 

I was tired and it felt good to sink down into the comfortable sofa in the apartment. When my parents returned, we exchanged stories and I got to look at their pictures of the Golden Circle.

It was fun to see how different everything looked during their visit. When I’d gone, the Gullfoss waterfall had been frosted white with sharp gray rocks breaking out from beneath snow and water. In their photos, the water had more of a blue tint and was surrounded by greenery. 

And, yet, it was still the same powerful force that I remembered. 

I think this is what I love about having been able to return to Iceland. I felt familiar and comfortable and yet was still enchanted and surprised by everything that we saw. 

Mattur og Drykkur

We ended our day with dinner at Mattur og Drykkur, a restaurant that specializes in classical Icelandic cuisine with a modern twist. What does that mean? According to their website, they scour the town for old Icelandic recipe books—giving these traditional meals an updated twist.

Housed in an old fish salting factory, its trendy industrial feel matches the hip urban vibe that Reykjavík embodies.

Though the food was, indeed, delicious (my dad much enjoyed the lamb chops here as opposed to the lamb hot dog he accidentally got as street food two nights before) and the atmosphere was beautiful, I have to say that I preferred the Fish Market that we went to on a previous night. The service there was much friendlier and the food even better.