By Debi Lander
mail@floridanewsline.com
Floridians enjoy some of the mildest winters in the U.S., but I grew up in Virginia, recalling snow-filled childhood memories. Craving a winter wonderland, I set off for Iceland, hoping to see snowfall and the Northern Lights.
Surprisingly, flights from New York or Boston to Iceland take only five hours — closer than many imagine. Yet, everything in Iceland feels foreign — in the best way. The language is complex and nearly impossible to pronounce, the currency can be perplexing, but almost everyone speaks English. The highland is the dramatic range of landscapes — otherworldly in any season.
As my plane landed, I glimpsed a layer of white blanketing everything, a vision of Game of Thrones’ icy Wall. Unable to check into my hotel so early, I headed straight to the Blue Lagoon.
Iceland’s most famous attraction was actually formed by accident. In 1976, wastewater from the Svartsengi geothermal power plant created a mineral-rich pool. Initially deemed unsafe for bathing, it soon became a local secret as workers discovered its soothing effects. By 1981, researchers confirmed the water’s healing properties, and in 1992, the Blue Lagoon officially opened as a spa retreat.
After showering, I descended steps into an indoor extension of the pool before slipping through a curtain into the open air. The cold morning wind jabbed me, but the water felt silky and warm. Steam rose against the black lava fields, creating an ethereal atmosphere. I smoothed the silica mud — provided on-site — over my face letting it dry as I meandered around. I explored a small cave, the steam room, and a sauna. Fully relaxed, I finally made my way to Reykjavík.
Reykjavík is a blend of Nordic charm and modern energy best enjoyed on foot. I passed colorful buildings adorned with street art, visited Hallgrímskirkja, the striking church with panoramic city views, and admired Harpa Concert Hall’s shimmering glass facade. Along the waterfront, I paused at the Sun Voyager, a sleek steel rib-like sculpture reminiscent of a Viking ship.
The next morning, I set off on a small-group tour of the Golden Circle, arriving at Thingvellir National Park just as the sun crept over the horizon (winter daylight comes late). Fresh snowfall blanketed the landscape, turning it into a magical scene A tiny church stood near the winding Öxará River, looking like something from a fairytale.
At Gullfoss, a thundering two-tiered waterfall, snowflakes swirled around me as mist rose from the canyon below. The Hvítá River plunges 105 feet into a rugged abyss. I took in the view from multiple vantage points — each more picturesque than the last, and wished I could have lingered longer.
Next was Haukadalur, a geothermal field alive with bubbling mud pots and steaming vents. I watched Strokkur Geyser erupt, a sudden burst of scalding water rocketing skyward before vanishing just as quickly. Unlike Yellowstone’s Old Faithful, Strokkur’s displays are brief but frequent.
Another long day took me along Iceland’s stunning south coast to Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon and nearby Diamond Beach. Icebergs, freshly calved from the glacier, floated across the lagoon before washing ashore, glistening like diamonds against the black sand. The surreal contrast of ice and volcanic shore is mesmerizing — I could hardly tear myself away.
No winter trip to Iceland would be complete without chasing the Northern Lights. Bundled up and full of anticipation, I ventured beyond Reykjavík to escape light pollution. But luck was not on my side; only the faintest shimmer of green and purple flickered across the cloudy sky. Still, the magic of Iceland in winter left me spellbound as I returned to sunny, warm Florida.
Visit www.bylandersea.com to read more of local travel writer Debi Lander’s stories and travel tips.
Photo courtesy Debi Lander
Blue Lagoon in the early morning.
