A Weekend to Remember in Iceland by Jim Keeble
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Iceland in the wintertime? It seemed like an idea to rank up there with my decision to go jogging in the Sahara, or sunbathing in Antarctica (both of which resulted in urgent medical attention).
Yet Iceland was recently voted one of “the three places to go in 2003” in a survey of 18-35 year olds (alongside Cambodia and China, neither of them exactly weekend destinations, unless you live in Cambodia or China). And my girlfriend, Jessica, has always wanted to visit the frozen isle of the north.
“How dark and cold can it be?” she asked, in a tone that suggested she’d already booked the tickets.
It was dark when we arrived after a two and half hour flight from London, but then it was after midnight. Initially everything looked a little like Wolverhampton, all drizzle and suburban factories. Then we reached our hotel in Reykjavik, the clouds cleared and above our heads, the ‘northern lights’ shimmered in an ethereal swirl of emerald whispers. It was one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.
“Do you think the tourist board turns them on each night?” asked Jessica, happily.
Now, let’s clear up two myths about winter in Iceland. Firstly, it’s not that dark. In fact the Icelandic almanac makes for a perfect weekend break - the sun rises late, after ten, forcing you to enjoy a lie-in, and whilst it doesn’t rise very high, there’s daylight until around five, as in the UK.
Also, it’s not that cold. Average February temperatures are about one degree above freezing. It got up to a balmy 5ºC when we were there, (which doesn’t sound so warm, until you realise it’s just five degrees off the July average).
On Saturday morning we woke late, to find the sun rising, just. We rushed to the car, to make the most of the bright short morning, worried that the roads would be busy with locals enjoying such rare winter rays.
Iceland was empty. It seems that thanks to the delayed dawn, Icelanders get up later than post-exam teenagers. At 11.30am, we had the sweeping landscape of icy hills and wide snow-crusted valleys to ourselves. There can be few places so other-worldly, so elemental just two and half hours from London.
We zipped through vast nobbly snowfields, looking up to frozen waterfalls and blackened basalt cliffs, until the fringes of the national park at Pingvellir, (meaning ‘Meeting Level’) that was the site of the first ever Icelandic parliament or Alping, a few years back, in 930AD.
At times the landscape seemed almost extra-terrestrial, reminiscent in its blanched stark beauty of Antarctica, or my childhood visions of the moon. Iceland was where the Apollo 11 astronauts trained for their lunar trip. When Neil Armstrong stepped off the Eagle he must have thought “what’s all the fuss about, it looks just like a field near Reykjavik”.
In contrast, the Icelandic capital itself is reassuringly earthly. To get our bearings, we stood at the top of the concrete Hallgrimskirkja Cathedral, looking out over the capital’s cheerful red, green and blue corrugated iron roofs. In truth there are no great sights, which is relaxing – you simply end up ambling around the small city centre, as your nose is gently caressed by whiffs of fish and ocean.
We strolled the main shopping street, Laugavegur, impressed by the exorbitant clothes and relatively inexpensive CDs, popped into the sleek and stylish new art museum, and sipped coffee in Kaffe Solon, one of the hip new eateries to have emerged here in the past five years.
Oh yes, haven’t you heard? Iceland is cool, and cool. The birthplace of Bjork is attracting the clubbing generation from Europe and the States, to enjoy what Icelanders call the ‘Runtur’, a fantastically onomatopoeic word, meaning pub crawl.
We started our evening at the new Oro restaurant. The owner has produced a neat little brochure with a guide to the four best night-spots according to your age-group, starting at 6pm through to the last suggestion, at 1am.
I was exhausted just reading it. Fortunately, Oro’s menu provided ample nourishment for the night ahead. I was relieved that traditional Icelandic fare such as Hákarl – putrefied shark’s meat, was absent. Instead it was Asian-European fusion-fare as good as anything I’ve eaten in London, such a tuna tataki and Icelandic lamb steaks.
Feeling thus fortified, we headed off through the snow, round the corner to the Thorvaldsen Bar where Burberry-clad blonde women sipped white-wine, and serious suited men nursed beers. It seemed tamely corporate, until the DJ showed up, stuck on Tainted Love and everyone started to move.
After a brief jiggle, we headed fifty yards to Reykjavik’s top club of the moment, Club Nasa, which won’t win any prizes for design (think Worksop working men’s club dancehall), but is highly energetic and great fun, playing eclectic 80s and 90s chart hits. Large ladies danced around handbags, men pranced on stage and in the middle of the theme from Fame, an unknown woman grabbed my crotch. It seemed that the Runtur was now in full swing.
We ended the night at my favourite Reykjavik venue, Kaffibarinn, part-owned by Blur’s Damon Albarn, with its homely feel and comfy armchairs. It’s so laid-back you might just fall asleep, which, towards two-thirty in the morning, I did.
We woke with volcanic hangovers. Thankfully Iceland has an abundance of natural hot water which permits you to take hour-long, head-ache-busting power-showers without feeling guilty. Yet even sticking my head under a geyser couldn’t help. So we headed towards the airport and stopped off at the famous Blue Lagoon thermal pool for a pre-flight soak.
The ‘Blue Lagoon’ lives up to its name – it’s undeniably blue (think minty-gel toothpaste), thanks to blue-green (safe) microbes in the water. Once again, you feel as if you’re on another planet – reclining in steaming water, surrounded by azure snow and gnarled black lava. As we lounged, slapping grey mud on our faces in a bid to cleanse our pores, if not our livers, it began to snow, the flakes descending into the rising steam as if fighting some ancient primeval battle.
“Wow,” said Jessica. I nodded. Iceland in wintertime is definitely a good idea.