Land of the Huldufolk
With volcanoes and glaciers aplenty, Iceland is an otherworldly country of little people and gargantuan attractions. Words and pictures by Tim Pile.
In its own unpredictable, temperamental way, Iceland is still taking shape. Glaciers advance and retreat, volcanoes erupt, bridges wash away and streams of snowmelt carve new paths. Visit next year and it won't look quite the same.
The Nordic nation is uncannily reminiscent of New Zealand. The brooding Tolkienesque grandeur and sparsely populated landscapes where sheep outnumber people all seem vaguely familiar. You won't meet any hobbits but if the locals are to be believed, you might encounter a troll or two.
I've hired a car for the week and plan to follow Route 1, a well-maintained artery that encircles the island. For those without mountaineering equipment, an off-road vehicle or a love of cold-weather camping, the 1,332km loop offers an accessible introduction to many of Iceland's must-sees.
Visitors tend to underestimate how long they'll need to do the ring road justice. Ten days is par; anything less means skipping a whale-watching trip or bypassing the odd glacier. Each evening I find myself phoning ahead to tell my hosts that I'll be arriving late.
"Too much to see; too little time to see it," I explain, combining an apology with a compliment. They've heard it all before, of course, and are very understanding. Bjarni, who greets me in the fishing village of Dalvik, admits he sometimes forgets how beautiful his own country is.
"When you've lived here your whole life, you take it for granted," the hotelier says. "But my guests are always reminding me that I live in an amazing place."
