On the hunt for Northern Lights, geothermal pools, and majestic glaciers in Iceland

Since it first landed on the radars of backpackers, hikers, and mountain climbers in the 1990s, Iceland travel has seen a 30 percent uptick, to the tune of nearly 2 million visitors per year. Over the past decade especially, the number of hotels and attractions have multiplied, as have the island’s opportunities for luxury vacations, a relatively new category in a country originally known for its budget-friendly adventures.

Even with all the best-of lists and glossy print magazine coverage, the Nordic country still feels like a place where you can get away from it all—sometimes far, far away—while still returning to cozy surroundings at night. This is an important distinction for me. While I love roughing it in the outdoors during the day, I’m not a camper. Having a “home base” where I can kick back, savor a great meal, and sleep in a snug bed is essential.

In November, I was invited by Hidden Iceland, a bespoke-tour operator, on a five-day trip highlighting the island’s singular landscape, from its glaciers to its geothermal pools, and its blossoming culinary scene, all with an eye toward the ease and comfort that makes luxury travel so desirable. 

Booking a tour with Hidden Iceland

Although any one of Hidden Iceland’s already-designed tours offer excellent options for exploring the island, I had a specific agenda: I wanted to go glacier hiking, see some of the Golden Circle highlights I’d missed on my last trip (in 2022, when I’d stayed in capital city Reykjavik for a few days), relax in geothermal pools, and chase the Northern Lights. So Hidden Iceland put together a three-day custom Iceland travel tour based on my interests, with a day in Reykjavik on either end.

Iceland travel: a four-star hotel, geothermal spa, and superb seafood

My husband, Floren, and I were picked up at Reykjavik’s Keflavik International Airport by a private car service arranged by Hidden Iceland—a huge improvement from my first trip to the city, when I navigated the city’s reliable and cost-effective, but sometimes confusing, bus system in order to make the 40-minute trip into the downtown.

We rested for a couple hours at the Hotel Reykjavik Saga, a newer accommodation only steps from the banks of Lake Tjörnin and its snow-globelike houses and churches, and about a half mile from Hallgrímskirkja, the hilltop church whose 240-plus-foot-tall is tower visible from nearly everywhere in the capital city. Its “pipe organ” façade was inspired by the glaciers, basalt cliffs, and craggy mountains we’d get a close look at over the next few days. 

In the afternoon, we headed for Sky Lagoon, a high-end mashup of Nordic bathing culture and spa treatments. (See We Said Go Travel founder Lisa Niver’s fun videos from our trip to Sky Lagoon, where we first crossed paths.) While the Blue Lagoon, overlooking Mount Þorbjörn, is the city’s better-known geothermal spa, it receives more tourist traffic. I’d visited Sky Lagoon on my 2022 trip, shortly after it opened, and knew a reprise would be ideal after a long flight.

The spa has become much more popular in the ensuing years, but it didn’t dull the soothing nature of Sky Lagoon’s calling card, its seven-step spa ritual: soaking in an oceanfront manmade geothermal infinity pool, followed by a cold plunge, sauna, cold “rain” shower, body scrub, herbal steam, and a final rinse before hopping back into the warm pool—with or without drinks at the swim-up bar. My only regret was that we didn’t have time to grab a bite in Sky Lagoon’s Smakk Bar, which gave me fond foodie memories on my first Iceland trip.

We returned just in time to change and walk to dinner at Fiskfélagið, or The Fish Company. Fish and seafood are don’t-miss treats in Iceland, and The Fish Company’s menu offers a wealth of so-fresh-it’s-practically-still-flapping choices. Floren and I shared two appetizers—tuna tataki with roasted jalapeno puree, and a fried egg in a nest of shredded fried potatoes with “rocks” made of fried mushrooms and truffles—plus the superb seasonal sushi platter.

Three-day Iceland travel: glaciers, Northern Lights, Golden Circle

In the morning, Ingimundur, our chatty, amiable Icelandic guide, picked us up at our hotel. Because of an oncoming winter storm, we set out a little earlier than planned, and headed straight for our first stop, about an hour and forty-five minutes from the city along the southern coast, at Seljalandsfoss. The river that feeds the nearly 200-foot waterfall—foss is Icelandic for “waterfall”—originates at the base of Eyjafjalljokull (kull means “glacier” in Icelandic), and tumbles dramatically over a cliff that was once at the island’s coastline.

It’s a stunning sight, and memorable experience to walk the path behind the cascade, as long as you don’t mind getting a little damp. Even in waterproof gear, which Hidden Iceland provided, the tumbling water, carried on Iceland’s bitter winter winds, will find its way into any opening in your hood or zipper. Is it worth enduring a soggy shirt for a couple hours? You bet.

We visited several other waterfalls over the course of the tour, including Gullfoss. Here the water plunges into a canyon in two steep drops, creating spectacular raw power that was almost harnessed for hydroelectric power in the early 1900s, before a local farmer’s daughter mounted what would become one of the first conservation campaigns in Iceland.

Other stops included Reynisfjara, a beach whose black sands derive from volcanic lava, and are surrounded by basalt-column cliffs that look like staircases in a Dalí painting. Legend says that the pair of sea stacks off the coast were once trolls who attempted to pull a ship into shore, and turned to stone when the light shone on them at dawn. We also walked around the Geysir geothermal area, where we captured video of an exploding geyser.

One of the highlights of Iceland travel for me was Breiðamerkursandur, an 11-mile strip of sand that wraps around Iceland’s coastline to the Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon. Here, miniature icebergs that have calved off from their glacial parents float around the lagoon, in spiky shapes and intense shades of blue and green, before pouring into a tidal river. The lagoon is also home to a number of seals, who surface with a snort before undulating back beneath the waves, or else sunbathe atop the little ’bergs.

The beach itself was littered with sculptural, shimmering ice, much of it tumbled into diamondlike facets. Some pieces were as small as baseballs, and others large enough for me to semi-recline on, like an awkward Hollywood siren trying to look glamorous on an uncomfortable divan. 

Glaciers were the undisputed centerpiece of my visit. Because of climate change, the ice masses are retreating worldwide. But in Iceland, some are advancing. The island remains one of the only locations where the average, non-mountain climbing Joe or Jane can experience a glacier.

We visited one of the outlet glaciers—frozen channels that flow out of ice caps along the sides of a valley—emanating from the Vatnajökull glacier. At about 3,100 square miles, Vatnajökull covers 8 percent of Iceland, and is part of the eponymous Vatnajökull National Park, a stony, lunaresque landscape in the southwest corner of the island.

Getting to the glacier is the hardest part, and required a bumpy, seesawing ride in a decked-out super jeep over rough, pockmarked-and-potholed terrain. We had already been outfitted in belaying harnesses, which are used for rescue, should a visitor venture a little too far toward the edge of a fissure, and once we had hiked a couple hundred feet up the rocky side of the glacier, we donned crampons and pickaxes for better traction. Then we were off, stomping across the ice behind our guide, Jan, with Ingimundur pulling up the rear.

We stopped at several points along the walk to observe, snap photos, and learn about the glaciers. We also tromped through a small but scenic ice cave, its pale blue walls glinting in the fading sunlight. In the midst of one of our discussions, a crackling sound brought conversation to a halt. Off in the distance, high up on the glacier—too far away to be a safety concern—sparkling chunks rained down in a small ice avalanche, a normal part of glacial formation and decomposition.

The great indoors: tomato greenhouses, Northern Lights sightings, and a superb private villa

Our Iceland travel also included a few indoorsy stops, including a meal and a visit to the national park museum in compact Vik, and lunch in the extensive Friðheimar tomato greenhouses. As a volcanic island, Iceland is short on agriculturally viable soils. Greenhouse operations now supply nearly half of residents’ food.

While the flavor of greenhouse tomatoes will never quite match the juicy brilliance of their sun-drenched Mediterranean cousins, Friðheimar’s are tasty, and served up in a wide variety of soups, salads, and entrees. The greenhouse restaurant, where you dine surrounded by twelve-foot-tall tomato plants, is also a welcome respite from the freezing winter temperatures. Friðheimar’s brand-new, adjacent wine bar, with its library wall, cozy armchairs, and plethora of indoor plants, is a relaxing, sunny delight, and serves excellent desserts.

Although you’re never guaranteed a Northern Lights sighting—it depends partly on aurora activity, and partly on the clarity of the night sky—I got my wish at Hótel Jökulsárlón, located on a glacial lagoon at the edge of Vatnajökull National Park. From our plush room, decorated in dark, moody hues, we eagerly peeked out the windows for a few hours. Finally, around 11:00 p.m., we gave up, and succumbed to sleep.

A little after midnight, the phone rang: “The Northern Lights are visible in the sky,” said a friendly female voice from the front desk, via the hotel’s Northern Lights wake-up service.

Right outside our window, a ribbon of electric green flowed and twisted like a sky-bound river. It lasted for only 10 or 15 minutes, but the bright color and near-constant movement were unmistakable, and easy to capture with a camera phone. We were later told that the “show” was even more spectacular from the other side of the hotel, but I didn’t feel cheated—especially given the single-digit temperatures and 30-mph winds that blustered around the lagoon, making it difficult to even walk outside, let alone steadily hold up a camera.

Our other accommodation during our Iceland travel included Hof Luxury Villa, a freestanding, style-forward hotel designed to complement the landscape. I loved the villa’s middle-of-nowhere location, in a remote valley of the already-remote Hella, as much as I adored its modern comforts: a spacious king suite, combination living room and dining area with a cozy fireplace, and glass-enclosed Northern Lights lounge, where you can gaze up at the night sky from the comfort of an upholstered settee.

The culinary program at Hof Luxury Villa is led by Gísli Matthías Auðunsson, owner of three Icelandic restaurants, and a gentle, warm presence. He prepared an exceptional three-course dinner for us, featuring seafood, pasta, and lamb, another Icelandic favorite, before bidding us good night.

There were no Northern Lights sightings that night, but my only real regret of the trip was that we arrived at Hof after 8:00 p.m., too late for anything but the leisurely dinner. This meant forgoing a soak in the private hot tub, or sweating it out in the sauna. If I had a do-over, I’d stay for at least two nights, and make sure I built in a few hours of R&R time per day for enjoying the accommodation’s welcoming amenities.

Bidding farewell to Iceland

On our final tour day, we braved the biting winds for a walk around Þingvellir National Park. If the park, which is the site of the world’s first parliament, looks like something out of Game of Thrones, then it won’t surprise you to learn that it was a repeat filming location in season 4 of the hit series. Tucked into a rift valley between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates, it’s a sampler platter of some of Iceland’s most memorable natural assets: waterfalls, rushing rivers, frozen lakes, Lego-brick cliffs, and trails that seem to meander off into eternity.

Bringing our tour full circle, we paid a visit to the new Hvammsvík Nature Resort & Hot Springs. It’s impossible to overstate the natural beauty of this spot, cradled along the southern lip of Hvalfjörður (“whale fjord,” named for a legend of an elf woman who transformed her human lover, who denied he was the father of her child, into a red-headed whale). This inlet along the western coast of Iceland, cradled between snow-capped mountains, is so gorgeous, gazing at it evokes immediate serenity.

The property has eight hot springs. A few fluctuate with the temperature of the North Atlantic, from lukewarm to woah. Others stay warm, even hot. We dipped into four different pools—including the one adjacent to the resort’s restaurant, which has a swim-up bar—as we watched the sun disappear behind the peaks. After we’d rinsed off and changed, the staff of Hvammsvík treated us to a selection of appetizers, including a seafood soup with a rich broth and chunks of fresh shellfish.

Ingimundur deposited us back in the Icelandic capital and Hotel Reykjavik Saga, where we relaxed downstairs with cocktails at Fröken Reykjavík Kitchen & Bar, and plotted which attractions to see the next day using our Reykjavik City Card. The card offers free entry to nearly three dozen museums, galleries, and thermal pools.

In the morning, we walked less than a half mile to the National Museum of Iceland. Absorbing and well laid out, it deserves more attention than I could afford it in an hour—the amount of time I had before running a crucial Iceland travel errand: a stop at Omnom Chocolate, in the revitalized Grandi neighborhood, for their licorice-topped ice cream, plus our usual travel pilgrimage to a local grocery to shop for typical foods.

Northern Lights were in the forecast again, and although we didn’t see them a second time, what we took away from this trip was far more gratifying: a sense of the rare beauty and majesty of a country that, even two decades ago, wasn’t even considered a tourist destination, and an up-close look at some of the world’s rapidly disappearing glaciers. Even more indelible than the hundreds of pictures I took, what sticks with me are the singular moments—the roar of a waterfall, the wind slapping my cheeks as I stood atop an ice cap, the black sand of a volcanic beach whispering through my fingers, and lounging in a glass-walled room while stars began to blink to life in the night sky—that I won’t be able to duplicate anywhere else.

How To Get to Iceland

For our Iceland travel tour, we flew out of Boston Logan Airport into Keflavik International Airport in Reykjavik, via Icelandair. Although it’s not technically a budget airline, Icelandair’s rates are often lower than that of its competitors. But you’ll need to shell out extra cash for almost everything, from a checked bag to seat selection and even snacks and meals. You won’t get so much as a bag of pretzels without paying for it. 

Meals need to be ordered in advance using the Icelandair website or app. We used our Priority Pass to relax in the Air France lounge before our flight, where we ate dinner—which included a respectable take on New England clam chowder—and filled up our water bottles before boarding.

Our departure flight was delayed by a few minutes, both on the departure and return, mostly because of the airline’s unusual policy of seating Saga Premier passengers first, followed by everyone else in a single, disorderly cattle call. Flight attendants were pleasant and helpful, especially when we requested blankets, which had not been placed on the seats for the return flight, despite frigid temperatures inside the aircraft. (How frigid? I kept my winter jacket on for all 5.5 hours!) The airline was kind to upgrade us to an exit row, which offered more leg room but was otherwise indiscernible from the rest of economy class.