Iceland requires a steep learning curve in more or less everything.
I took my first trip in June 2013. I had told some friends that I was considering a trip to Iceland to go riding and for my birthday, they gave me some material along with this card.
On the back, they were wishing me a happy 18th birthday (*cough*) and that I would get to travel to the land of the elves and the smelly puddles one day.
At that point, I didn't care so much about the smelly puddles, snow powdered peaks or elves. I wanted to go riding. I had recently rediscovered horse riding after a 16-year long break and had been dreaming of going on a multi-day riding tour since I was a kid. I had also heard of the mysterious tölt, a gait exclusive to Icelandic horses, allegedly very comfortable. The material my friends had given me showed remote and at times desolate, at times fertile landscapes, huge rock and lava formations, cute little puffins and fluffy Artic foxes as well as otherworldly light conditions. Seemed like a good place to explore on horseback.
Frankenspouse couldn't care less about riding, so my best friend, whose partner wasn't even remotely interested either, and I set out to an all girls trip. We had some good laughs when the lady whom we'd be staying with proudly stated in an email that they were only about 30 km away from the Capital of the North, the second biggest town in Iceland. We looked up said capital, Akureyri, and laughed even harder, to us, the place we were going to was way beyond the middle of nowhere, think "north of the wall". For Icelandic standards, we were in an metropolitan area. Akureyri is a lovely place with some of the best ice cream in Iceland and a whooping 18,000 inhabitants. It's supposed to be the friendliest town in Iceland as well and all its red traffic lights are shaped like red hearts. It's small, cute and reasonably urban, but 30 km north, where we were staying, was a different story altogether. First rookie mistake: applying my standards (the area I'm from is among the most densely populated in Europe) to frontier land. Later that week, my friend and I were fantasising about a glass of wine, to be enjoyed while basking in the midnight sun. Surely we could buy some in the supermarket in the little town about 5 km away? Uhhhhhm, no. Alcohol is heavily controlled in Iceland and only sold in special stores, the next of which was in Akureyri. What do you mean I have to make a one-hour round trip to get a bottle of wine? Idea abandoned, lesson learned: Stock up on booze before leaving civilisation.
Now, aside from the isolation, how do you prepare for the Arctic, if you have never been? The internet recommended thermal underwear (but I'm going in the end of June?) and all kinds of things you would ordinarily need in winter, at least where we lived. I did buy the thermal underwear. I packed two fleece jackets, riding gear and six shirts, one for every day. After all, I was going horse riding, not fashion modelling. Some scarves, some regular underwear, some socks, a winter coat, boots.
First impression upon arrival: it's fresh and cool, but not that cold, what was all the kerfuffle about? It felt like a crisp spring morning in late April, one of those where you can wear a jacket, but don't have to. We arrived at the farm, had a lovely welcome, met our fellow group mate as well as our guide and settled in.
The next day, we set out to our first ride. The horses were short and stout and had incredible hair styles. They were friendly and cooperative, even though, having done nothing but Western riding for 2 years, my horse and I were a bit lost in translation at times. Soon after setting out, we did indeed get to try the famous tölt and I think it's safe to say that every rider who ever got to experience it must absolutely love it. It can be a bit tricky to get into, but once you've hit the right button, it is definitely the most comfortable gait for long distances, certainly for the rider, the horse might disagree. I won't bore you too much with the mechanics, but it's a four-beat gait resulting from a genetic mutation. Even though it can be ridden at high speeds, unlike trot or canter, it doesn't have a suspension phase, so the rider bounces about much less, this is what makes it so comfortable.
But back to rookie mistakes. That first day, I was wearing my thermal underwear, riding breeches, boots, one of my shirts, a wonderful new discovery called buff and a fleece jacket. And I was teeth-shatteringly cold. It's not actually that cold, it's that ominous (or not so ominous, after that day) wind chill factor that drains the heat out of your bones, even in early July. The wind is ever-present and of a different quality to most winds in mainland Europe. As there are no trees in Iceland (I kid you not, their number is negligible), nothing really stops the wind from rushing over mountains and plains. It is very strong, as in "Every day is your worst hair day" strong and it's also pretty darn cold. In addition to sun burn and its less known brother snow burn, in Iceland, you can also get wind burn.
We made it back after an amazing first day of riding along the Eyjafjörður, thawed out over coffee and homemade pastries and had learned an important lesson. A day-long ride in Northern Iceland is not like that crisp April morning in continental Europe, when you decide to walk to the office without your jacket for the first time this year.
The next day and every day after, I wore my thermal underwear, all six of my shirts, my fleece jacket and my winter coat. I looked like the Michelin man. So did everyone else.
And I developed a fierce love for Icelandic weather.
I took my first trip in June 2013. I had told some friends that I was considering a trip to Iceland to go riding and for my birthday, they gave me some material along with this card.
On the back, they were wishing me a happy 18th birthday (*cough*) and that I would get to travel to the land of the elves and the smelly puddles one day.
At that point, I didn't care so much about the smelly puddles, snow powdered peaks or elves. I wanted to go riding. I had recently rediscovered horse riding after a 16-year long break and had been dreaming of going on a multi-day riding tour since I was a kid. I had also heard of the mysterious tölt, a gait exclusive to Icelandic horses, allegedly very comfortable. The material my friends had given me showed remote and at times desolate, at times fertile landscapes, huge rock and lava formations, cute little puffins and fluffy Artic foxes as well as otherworldly light conditions. Seemed like a good place to explore on horseback.
Frankenspouse couldn't care less about riding, so my best friend, whose partner wasn't even remotely interested either, and I set out to an all girls trip. We had some good laughs when the lady whom we'd be staying with proudly stated in an email that they were only about 30 km away from the Capital of the North, the second biggest town in Iceland. We looked up said capital, Akureyri, and laughed even harder, to us, the place we were going to was way beyond the middle of nowhere, think "north of the wall". For Icelandic standards, we were in an metropolitan area. Akureyri is a lovely place with some of the best ice cream in Iceland and a whooping 18,000 inhabitants. It's supposed to be the friendliest town in Iceland as well and all its red traffic lights are shaped like red hearts. It's small, cute and reasonably urban, but 30 km north, where we were staying, was a different story altogether. First rookie mistake: applying my standards (the area I'm from is among the most densely populated in Europe) to frontier land. Later that week, my friend and I were fantasising about a glass of wine, to be enjoyed while basking in the midnight sun. Surely we could buy some in the supermarket in the little town about 5 km away? Uhhhhhm, no. Alcohol is heavily controlled in Iceland and only sold in special stores, the next of which was in Akureyri. What do you mean I have to make a one-hour round trip to get a bottle of wine? Idea abandoned, lesson learned: Stock up on booze before leaving civilisation.
Now, aside from the isolation, how do you prepare for the Arctic, if you have never been? The internet recommended thermal underwear (but I'm going in the end of June?) and all kinds of things you would ordinarily need in winter, at least where we lived. I did buy the thermal underwear. I packed two fleece jackets, riding gear and six shirts, one for every day. After all, I was going horse riding, not fashion modelling. Some scarves, some regular underwear, some socks, a winter coat, boots.
First impression upon arrival: it's fresh and cool, but not that cold, what was all the kerfuffle about? It felt like a crisp spring morning in late April, one of those where you can wear a jacket, but don't have to. We arrived at the farm, had a lovely welcome, met our fellow group mate as well as our guide and settled in.
The next day, we set out to our first ride. The horses were short and stout and had incredible hair styles. They were friendly and cooperative, even though, having done nothing but Western riding for 2 years, my horse and I were a bit lost in translation at times. Soon after setting out, we did indeed get to try the famous tölt and I think it's safe to say that every rider who ever got to experience it must absolutely love it. It can be a bit tricky to get into, but once you've hit the right button, it is definitely the most comfortable gait for long distances, certainly for the rider, the horse might disagree. I won't bore you too much with the mechanics, but it's a four-beat gait resulting from a genetic mutation. Even though it can be ridden at high speeds, unlike trot or canter, it doesn't have a suspension phase, so the rider bounces about much less, this is what makes it so comfortable.
But back to rookie mistakes. That first day, I was wearing my thermal underwear, riding breeches, boots, one of my shirts, a wonderful new discovery called buff and a fleece jacket. And I was teeth-shatteringly cold. It's not actually that cold, it's that ominous (or not so ominous, after that day) wind chill factor that drains the heat out of your bones, even in early July. The wind is ever-present and of a different quality to most winds in mainland Europe. As there are no trees in Iceland (I kid you not, their number is negligible), nothing really stops the wind from rushing over mountains and plains. It is very strong, as in "Every day is your worst hair day" strong and it's also pretty darn cold. In addition to sun burn and its less known brother snow burn, in Iceland, you can also get wind burn.
We made it back after an amazing first day of riding along the Eyjafjörður, thawed out over coffee and homemade pastries and had learned an important lesson. A day-long ride in Northern Iceland is not like that crisp April morning in continental Europe, when you decide to walk to the office without your jacket for the first time this year.
The next day and every day after, I wore my thermal underwear, all six of my shirts, my fleece jacket and my winter coat. I looked like the Michelin man. So did everyone else.
And I developed a fierce love for Icelandic weather.
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