I spent nine or so days driving around Iceland’s Ring Road last summer. I’ve spent a lot of time in Iceland and covered most of it but I’ve never done a circuit of the Ring Road before. I didn’t plan to do it that time either. I planned to drive up to Akureyri and the Mývatn region to visit the Forest Lagoon and Geosea, detour down to Egilsstaðir to go to Vök Baths and then make my way back to the airport via a few more days in the north. The trouble was that it’s such a long way up to the north. I arrived on Saturday evening, about 5pm, took a ridiculously long time to get to Þingvellir via the Reykjanes southern road and Hveragerði and then on Sunday spent literally all day driving up to just outside Akureyri, admittedly via Akranes for an urgent tyre top-up and a trip to concrete seafront hotpot Guðlaug. It was a really long day which took nearly twice as long as Google Maps forecast and although the scenery is quite nice, there’s not really anywhere to stop. By the time I got to Egilsstaðir, I realised I’d pretty much need all of my remaining three days just to get back, with maximum half a day to do anything at all en route.
On the other hand, I could continue in a circle and return via the south. It would still be a lot of driving but it would allow for more adventures. I could camp at Skaftafell and stop at Jökulsárlón, the glacial lagoon. When Alexander Armstrong went there on his TV show, he went out in a kayak and drank whisky with a piece of glacial ice in it. Is that – the kayaking, not the whisky – available to normal people?
It is. I booked it from the campsite lounge in Egilsstaðir, had a very long drive with insufficient food down the south coast to Skaftafell, walked down to the local glacier in the evening and set off far too early in the morning to drive the 45 minutes back to Jökulsárlón.
Jökulsárlón is a baby proto-fjord, a 250m deep chasm carved out by a tongue of Europe’s biggest glacier. It’s joined to the sea by Iceland’s shortest river and the briny mix of seawater and glacier meltwater makes it turquoise – under the sun, anyway. On a cloudy day like this, let’s call it teal. Icebergs calve off that glacier, icebergs with stripes of winter blue and summer white ice, and accents of black volcanic ash sandwiched between the layers. The water and the icebergs make it a spectacular sight.
Its not Iceland’s only glacial lagoon. There’s another one at the snout of the very next tongue. But it’s the only one with this particular mix of water. That water is actually warmer than the air temperature. I assume this mostly applies to the winter. It was only four days ago I’d been running around a lava field in shorts and sandals and smothered in sun cream. Jökulsárlón cannot have been warmer than thar. My point is that the icebergs here melt quicker beneath the surface than above it because of the perfect level of salt. This means they lose their balance and flip over and that means that if you’re going to go out on the lagoon, it has to be done properly.
There are three ways of doing it properly. The cheapest way is a ride on the amphibian boats, which pick you up from a jetty on one of the lateral moraine and then drive down into the water and chug around for an hour. The expensive way is one of the Zodiac RIBs which zip around and take you a little closer to the glacier. I’ve measured it on the map several times because this seems impossible: from the bridge over the mouth of the lagoon to the snout of the glacier is every inch of five miles. No amphibian boat is doing a ten-mile round trip in less than half a day.
My new favourite way is the serene one that requires some effort: by kayak. You get dressed up in a pair of semi-waterproof high-waisted trousers, that feel like Cordura, with built-in socks. Cagoule over your own multiple warm layers – the same ones they use at Studland despite the difference in the two locations. Pair of cut-off wellies because those trousers aren’t fitting inside a full-height pair. Buoyancy aid, obviously. Waddle down the lagoon to the kayaks and plop into them because you’re wearing too much to bend in a nice controlled way.
Most of the kayaks were doubles but there were a few singles. Apparently only to be used if tge group was an odd size and although I don’t think I was the only solo, I got lucky and got the one single kayak in the group. Lucky? Did I deliberately stand so close to it that any sudden movements would have sent me flying over it? Yep. It worked, though. Also, I enjoyed that the singles were red whereas the doubles were yellow. I’ve never coordinated jacket, buoyancy aid and boat before and I really enjoyed the effect in the photos, especially against the teal lagoon.
Flipping icebergs are dangerous. The waves could swamp the big amphibious. We’d have no chance. So we kept our distance. Instead we paddled among the debris of an iceberg that had allegedly exploded overnight, shattering this corner of the lagoon with a sort of slush. Most of the bigger chunks were no bigger than my head, except a few slabs about the size of my kayak. I have to say, bad taste as it was, “iceberg, dead ahead!” and “we’ve hit an iceberg!” jokes never got old. These plastic boats don’t at all mind hitting these little bits of ice. They take more damage bumping into each other.
We paddled along in a line like a little flock of ducklings, our guide leading us through the frozen labyrinth. We saw seals, quite unthreatened by our slow quiet progress, our guide picked out a piece of pristine ancient ice for us to pass around and we had a little photoshoot. Because this lake is very deep, he wasn’t having us passing phones, risking dropping them in. He would take them on his own phone and send them to us. I wasn’t having that. There are still two batches of photos of me doing fun things from 2023 and one from 2024 that never got sent, despite chasing. But also, I’d taken my GoPro on its floaty stick rather than my phone. “You can use mine,” I said. “It floats”. And with that, I casually tossed it into the water. I swear my guide almost had a heart attack there and then. But it did. I knew it did. 36 hours ago I’d been using it in Vök Baths. I’d taken pictures in five thermal pools in the last week. I knew very well that it floated.
So he took pictures of me in my kayak! I think they’re the only pictures I have that aren’t selfies in my entire paddling life. I love them. That’s why the best one is my header here and another is my Instagram profile picture.
I could very happily have stayed out twice as long. Not that I wasn’t glad to get those trousers off – and at least three of my own layers. You just don’t know how cold it’s actually going to be on a miserable August day paddling among icebergs. I’d been far too hot on land but tolerable on the water. You can always dip your hands in the icy water to cool down anyway. It’s absolutely the best way to experience Jökulsárlón. None of these whining or chugging engines. At water level. Not crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers. Beautiful and perfect. Would have been nice if it was sunny.
Bumblebee Paddles 