In July and August 2024, Jill and I journeyed through Iceland, the Land of Fire and Ice. We spent two days in Reykjavik and then sailed around the island on a 7-day cruise aboard the Windstar Star Pride. Iceland, a bucket list cruise, was everything we had hoped for and more!
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our adventure.
This story, part of a series, is about the sights we saw in picturesque Seyðisfjörður as we walked about town and toured a nature reserve.
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our adventure.
This story, part of a series, is about the sights we saw in picturesque Seyðisfjörður as we walked about town and toured a nature reserve.
Jill and me at Skálanes Nature and Heritage Center
Seyðisfjörður, Iceland (August 4, 2024) I readily admit I was intimidated by the names of people, places, and things written in the Icelandic alphabet…like the name of this town.
Seyðisfjörður
I stared at its spelling, which included a couple of letters I did not recognize—one that looked like a ‘d’ (ð) but wasn’t, and another that looked like an ‘o’ (ö)…except it was capped by two dots.
There are 32 letters in the Icelandic alphabet, and most are the same as in the Latin alphabet. But…four letters were missing (C, Q, W, and Z) and there were ten additional ones (Ð, Þ, Æ, Ö, Á, É, Í, Ó, Ú, and Ý).
I listened to Icelanders pronounce many words I could not, and here was what I heard when one young lady spoke the name of this town.
There are 32 letters in the Icelandic alphabet, and most are the same as in the Latin alphabet. But…four letters were missing (C, Q, W, and Z) and there were ten additional ones (Ð, Þ, Æ, Ö, Á, É, Í, Ó, Ú, and Ý).
I listened to Icelanders pronounce many words I could not, and here was what I heard when one young lady spoke the name of this town.
Say-dis-fee-yur-dur
Maybe this wasn’t exactly what she said, but it was close enough for me!
Seyðisfjörður is nestled at the base of 3,600-foot-tall Mont Bólfur
As towns go, it is rather small—at least, in terms of population. There are 700 residents, and not everyone lives there year-round. But what the townsfolk lacked in numbers, they more than made up for in geniality, as I was cheerfully welcomed by one and all.
The first settler—a Norsemen by the name of Bólfur—came to this area in the 9th century. Present-day Seyðisfjörður, though, was relatively new, founded in 1848 when Norwegian fisherman established the town as a fishing and trading outpost.
Many of the houses built in the 1800s and early 1900s—all were made from timbers—still exist and are in use, although most were repurposed for commercial purposes. I’ll share a couple of these—each one, well-maintained— with you later in my story.
At first blush, Seyðisfjörður seemed remote—cut off, if you will, from the rest of Iceland. Not so, I learned. There is a road over a mountain pass that connected the town to Route 1, AKA Ring Road—a national highway that circled the country and connected one coastal town to the next. Had I been inclined to do so, I could have driven from Reykjavik to Seyðisfjörður, a distance of 400 miles, in about eight hours.
The first settler—a Norsemen by the name of Bólfur—came to this area in the 9th century. Present-day Seyðisfjörður, though, was relatively new, founded in 1848 when Norwegian fisherman established the town as a fishing and trading outpost.
Many of the houses built in the 1800s and early 1900s—all were made from timbers—still exist and are in use, although most were repurposed for commercial purposes. I’ll share a couple of these—each one, well-maintained— with you later in my story.
At first blush, Seyðisfjörður seemed remote—cut off, if you will, from the rest of Iceland. Not so, I learned. There is a road over a mountain pass that connected the town to Route 1, AKA Ring Road—a national highway that circled the country and connected one coastal town to the next. Had I been inclined to do so, I could have driven from Reykjavik to Seyðisfjörður, a distance of 400 miles, in about eight hours.
When we arrived early morning, the weather was…well…less than perfect. The town and surrounding mountains were blanketed by low-hanging clouds. The temperature? It was in the mid-50s.
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This, I learned, was ‘typical summer weather’ in the Eastern Region of Iceland.
Jill and I dressed accordingly—four layers, plus an umbrella, as there was rain in the forecast. (It sprinkled in the morning and misted in the evening.) |
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The town was built in the shape of an arc around Fjaðrará Lake—like Seyðisfjörður, it too was small—fed by a river that flows through Fjaðrará Canyon.
“It reminds me of Hawaii,” Jill said as she gazed at the mountains and lush landscape.
“Yes…but without the heat,” I answered with a wink.
“Yes…but without the heat,” I answered with a wink.
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Jill and I explored Seyðisfjörður by day and visited Skálanes Nature and Heritage Center early evening. I could write a book—well, maybe a long story—about the sights we saw and experiences we had, but in the interest of brevity, I’ve included only the highlights from our day.
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A Walk About Town
“Right or left?” Jill asked after we had disembarked.
It was 10AM. The street we were on, named Lónsleira, ran towards town in both directions.
I looked both ways, and then replied, “Let’s go right.”
In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered, as we would have passed the same sites and sights had we turned left rather than right.
“Right or left?” Jill asked after we had disembarked.
It was 10AM. The street we were on, named Lónsleira, ran towards town in both directions.
I looked both ways, and then replied, “Let’s go right.”
In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered, as we would have passed the same sites and sights had we turned left rather than right.
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The first building we saw—it was painted white and trimmed in maroon—was the District Commissioner’s office. It seemed rather mundane at the time, but this did not stop me from taking this photo. I’m glad I did, as later I learned this building dated to the second half of the 1800s. Yep, it was one of those early buildings still standing and in use.
What’s more, it was built by Otto Wathne, a Norwegian entrepreneur often referred to as the founding father of Seyðisfjörður, because “his efforts contributed to the town’s rapid growth and modernization.” Great history! I thought. |
“Dad…look!” Jill exclaimed. “That’s the Blue Church—THE most famous building in Seyðisfjörður.”
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Bláa Kirjan, AKA Blue Church, was built in 1922, partly from the remains of an older church, and then restored in 1989 after it was damaged by a fire.
Lonely Planet said of Bláa Kirjan, “The star of many a tourist photo, the Blue Church has a dramatic mountain backdrop to add to its highly photogenic exterior.” (The “dramatic mountain” was Mount Bjólfur, which was largely obscured by clouds.) Jill and I stepped inside for a look-see. It would be an understatement to say it was ‘modest.’ Yet, it was beautiful in its simplicity. |
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I asked a docent about the color of the church; he directed me to a storyboard in the vestibule.
Originally, the church was all-white. In 1970, it was repainted blue and yellowish brown. And then in 1994, the church was repainted a pastel blue with white trim. According to the storyboard, there was “no special meaning behind the blue color.”
Perhaps, I thought. Or maybe someone understood how to market this church to tourists.
I found the perfect spot for a selfie of me and the church. As you can see, I was photo-bombed by a young lady who jumped into my camera’s field of view. I loved that she smiled as she flashed the V-sign, a playful gesture.
Originally, the church was all-white. In 1970, it was repainted blue and yellowish brown. And then in 1994, the church was repainted a pastel blue with white trim. According to the storyboard, there was “no special meaning behind the blue color.”
Perhaps, I thought. Or maybe someone understood how to market this church to tourists.
I found the perfect spot for a selfie of me and the church. As you can see, I was photo-bombed by a young lady who jumped into my camera’s field of view. I loved that she smiled as she flashed the V-sign, a playful gesture.
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The road I was on, Norðurgötu, was nicknamed Rainbow Street—for obvious reasons, right?!—painted by locals as a symbol of unity and joy.
There was a two-story house painted black with white trim on my right, with a sign that identified it as Við Lónið. It was a guesthouse with three one-bedroom suites for short-term stays. But this was not what made it interesting…at least, not to me. Rather, it was the fact that it was built more than 100 years ago, in 1907, by a merchant named Tryggvi Gudmundsson, who—get this— purchased and imported this ready-made kit house from Norway. |
Imagine that, I thought. Just like the kit homes Sears, Roebuck sold in the early 1900s.
And then Jill and I reached a handful of buildings that housed shops and restaurants that were part of the town’s commercial district. There were two boutiques, one on either side of the road. Jill went into one; I went into the other.
The store I entered was named Handverksmarkaður, a crafts market run by twenty local women and men. There were many types of crafts, but it was a table of hand knitted wool sweaters that caught my eye.
And then Jill and I reached a handful of buildings that housed shops and restaurants that were part of the town’s commercial district. There were two boutiques, one on either side of the road. Jill went into one; I went into the other.
The store I entered was named Handverksmarkaður, a crafts market run by twenty local women and men. There were many types of crafts, but it was a table of hand knitted wool sweaters that caught my eye.
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I struck up a conversation with this affable gray-haired lady who worked in the store.
“My name is Johanna Hafsteindottir,” she said in answer to my question. (‘Dottir’ meant Johanna was the daughter of a man named Hafstein.) |
“I’m one of the locals who make the crafts you see in this store,” she added.
“What do you make?” I asked.
“I knit sweaters, scarves, and gloves,” she answered.
“I’d like to buy a sweater,” I said. “Which ones did you knit?”
Johanna showed several to me, and I tried one on. It was a perfect fit, and I loved it…so I bought it.
“What do you make?” I asked.
“I knit sweaters, scarves, and gloves,” she answered.
“I’d like to buy a sweater,” I said. “Which ones did you knit?”
Johanna showed several to me, and I tried one on. It was a perfect fit, and I loved it…so I bought it.
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This style of sweater, called a ‘lopapeysa,’ was the real deal…and by this, I mean it met the stringent criteria required to earn this label: It was handcrafted in Iceland using virgin wool from Icelandic sheep, knitted on a circular yoke, and fashioned with no seams.
A classic lopapeysa was made from two to three strands of unspun yarn, with two or three colors used for the pattern. It took about two days for an experienced knitter to finish a medium-sized lopapeysa. I was so pleased with my purchase—a truly memorable keepsake from Seyðisfjörður—that I returned the next morning and purchased a pair of wool mittens knitted by Kristin Ingolsfdottir! The sweater and mittens would, I was certain, keep me warm on cold winter days back home. |
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It was nearly noon, time for lunch. Jill and I reboarded Star Pride to eat at Verandah, the buffet-style eatery. I had my usual noon-time fare—soup, salad, and fish. It hit the spot!
When we finished, I said, “There’s more in town that I’d like to see. Care to join me?”
“I’m going to relax ahead of our excursion,” Jill replied. “Have fun.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” I answered, and with that I was off.
Looky looky, I thought as I stepped from Star Pride. There’s blue sky peeking out from the clouds!
What a difference this made, as the golden rays of the sun illuminated the landscape and made the colors appear more vibrant and detailed.
Ahh!
I walked through a different part of the town, where I enjoyed the architecture and scenic backdrops I saw.
When we finished, I said, “There’s more in town that I’d like to see. Care to join me?”
“I’m going to relax ahead of our excursion,” Jill replied. “Have fun.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” I answered, and with that I was off.
Looky looky, I thought as I stepped from Star Pride. There’s blue sky peeking out from the clouds!
What a difference this made, as the golden rays of the sun illuminated the landscape and made the colors appear more vibrant and detailed.
Ahh!
I walked through a different part of the town, where I enjoyed the architecture and scenic backdrops I saw.
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The building in the bottom right-hand photo is Seyðisfjarðarskóli, an elementary school built in 1907.
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Earlier, as I stood on the top deck of Star Pride, I spotted a waterfall on the town's east side, within easy walking distance from the ship.
No time like the present, I said to myself. The name of this beautiful waterfall is Búðarárfoss. (‘Foss’ is the Icelandic word for ‘waterfall’). It cascaded almost 200 feet down the side of Strandartindur mountain, whose peak is more than 3,300 feet above sea level, before it emptied into the fjord. There was a second drop upstream—beyond what I could see from below—about the same height as the lower drop. |
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That might be the waterfall, or one of the waterfalls, I thought, that Jill and I will see on our excursion tomorrow.
(The excursion was ‘Chasing Waterfalls,’ but we didn’t chase waterfalls—or do much of anything else—because dense fog in the mountains made the road too dangerous to travel on.)
I followed a paved trail from the road, and then a dirt and gravel path to reach an observation bridge located a quarter of the way up the waterfall. Nearby, I stopped to scoop up a handful of water, which I drank. It was cold and refreshing!
(The excursion was ‘Chasing Waterfalls,’ but we didn’t chase waterfalls—or do much of anything else—because dense fog in the mountains made the road too dangerous to travel on.)
I followed a paved trail from the road, and then a dirt and gravel path to reach an observation bridge located a quarter of the way up the waterfall. Nearby, I stopped to scoop up a handful of water, which I drank. It was cold and refreshing!
Across the road from the waterfall, I spotted a semicircular grouping of boulders. The largest boulder had a metal sign affixed to it, with a place name on it: Þakklætislunder—Place of Gratitude. I Googled this name to learn more.
The Place of Gratitude was a memorial to honor and remember the lives saved, and those who helped, in “the largest landslide ever to hit a town in Iceland.” The landslide, which occurred mid-afternoon on December 18, 2020, was triggered by days of heavy rainfall.
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"This place was selected for its symbolic meaning as it is the place people gathered together while the landslides fell. Here you can observe the mark the landslides made and the remarkable build up that has happened since."
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~ Visit Seyðisfjörður
It gave me chills!
Skálanes Nature and Heritage Center
Late afternoon, Jill and I made our way to Bláa Kirjan, as it was the meeting point for our evening excursion. We bundled up even more than we did earlier, as the evening forecast was 46 degrees—and with a 12-mph wind, it would feel colder yet.
Skálanes Nature and Heritage Center
Late afternoon, Jill and I made our way to Bláa Kirjan, as it was the meeting point for our evening excursion. We bundled up even more than we did earlier, as the evening forecast was 46 degrees—and with a 12-mph wind, it would feel colder yet.
Bláa Kirjan wasn’t just the meeting point for our excursion, though. It was also the venue for a 45-minute concert of mostly traditional Icelandic ballads and folk music performed by a duo from Seyðisfjörður. She sang—such a lovely voice!—and he played guitar (and sometimes sang).
THE CONCERT WAS WONDERFUL!
Afterward, Jill and I (and 40 or so other passengers on Star Pride) boarded a bus for the ride to Skálanes (pronounced skau-la-ne-s) Nature and Heritage Center, located about 8 miles east of Seyðisfjörður on the southern shore of the fjord. The road we followed was rugged—mostly rutted dirt and rocks—AND we crossed two streams with running water deep enough to gobble up the tires on the bus.
The tour’s description said we would see “a green valley” and “lonely-looking abandoned farms.” And perhaps we would have if the weather had been better. But it wasn’t. Instead, it was foggy…and it rained…and there was little light from the sky above. Needless to say, it was hard to see the grounds we passed.
No matter, though, as Jill and I were on a much-anticipated adventure to this well-known nature reserve.
We made a brief stop at an archaeological site where excavators found Viking-age burial mounds and medieval structures. While these findings “provided a rich historical narrative of Seyðisfjörður,” there was (IMHO) nothing of significance to see…and so, for me, this stop was a big yawn.
We were soon back on the bus and on our way to Skálanes. There we had a guided tour of the site, home to 47 different species of birds during the summer.
No matter, though, as Jill and I were on a much-anticipated adventure to this well-known nature reserve.
We made a brief stop at an archaeological site where excavators found Viking-age burial mounds and medieval structures. While these findings “provided a rich historical narrative of Seyðisfjörður,” there was (IMHO) nothing of significance to see…and so, for me, this stop was a big yawn.
We were soon back on the bus and on our way to Skálanes. There we had a guided tour of the site, home to 47 different species of birds during the summer.
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Skálanes, which was established in 2005 to promote science and education, is “a place of learning…about the natural and cultural environment of Iceland…where an open landscape, abundant wildlife, and rich history…help facilitate learning and inspiration.” (skalanes.com)
Our driver dropped us at the Field Center, a 1926 farmhouse renovated and modernized in 2006. There, our guide shared the work done at Skálanes. Her explanation was a bit dry and said without enthusiasm. Soon, I zone out and instead wandered the grounds until she finished. |
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Despite the inclement weather, we saw terns, kittiwakes, and puffins—lots and lots of each species—in their natural environment.
The first birds we saw were terns, an Artic bird sometimes referred to as a ‘sea swallow.’ They are a communal species that nested in the grasses and shrubs near the Field Center.
The first birds we saw were terns, an Artic bird sometimes referred to as a ‘sea swallow.’ They are a communal species that nested in the grasses and shrubs near the Field Center.
Adult terns have black hoods, red beaks and feet, and deep forked tails, and are covered in white and pale gray feathers. And here was an interesting fact I learned: Arctic terns have the longest migratory pattern in the animal kingdom—they summer in arctic regions and winter in Antarctica.
Our guide warned us that adult terns use a loud alarm call to alert other birds of potential threats to their colony and were aggressive when defending their nests.
“Terns are known to dive-bomb and attack intruders,” she said, “so please keep a respectful distance if you see a chick.”
The terns were not happy when 40 people invaded their turf.
Jill stopped to take a picture of a chick, and as she did, I shot a video of her. I snipped two frames from the vid, and in the one at the right you can see an adult tern that dive-bombed Jill as it emitted a shrill, high-pitched call.
Our guide warned us that adult terns use a loud alarm call to alert other birds of potential threats to their colony and were aggressive when defending their nests.
“Terns are known to dive-bomb and attack intruders,” she said, “so please keep a respectful distance if you see a chick.”
The terns were not happy when 40 people invaded their turf.
Jill stopped to take a picture of a chick, and as she did, I shot a video of her. I snipped two frames from the vid, and in the one at the right you can see an adult tern that dive-bombed Jill as it emitted a shrill, high-pitched call.
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“Uh…Jill. Please step away from that chick,” I cautioned her.
We hiked a half mile or so to sheer cliffs that overlook the fjord. There, we saw hundreds—maybe thousands—of Black-legged kittiwakes and puffins.
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The kittiwakes, which looked like seagulls, nested on the far side of the cliff. Thank goodness for the telephoto lens on my phone, or I’d have no photos to share.
Why, I wondered, are they called kittiwakes. I asked our guide. “They take their name from their call,” she said, “which sounds like ki-ti-waak.” How do you like that! |
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The Atlantic puffins—they were absolutely adorable, especially with their colorful beaks— nested closer to the observation deck we stood on, so I was able to snap a handful of worthy photos.
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“There are eight to ten million puffins in Iceland during the summer,” our guide said. “That’s more than 60% of the world’s entire population.”
Here was something else she shared: Puffins are excellent swimmers and incredible divers, able to reach depths of 200 feet as they hunt for fish. In fact, they use their wings to ‘fly’ underwater.
Later, from the internet, I learned a few more fun facts about these incredible birds:
Here was something else she shared: Puffins are excellent swimmers and incredible divers, able to reach depths of 200 feet as they hunt for fish. In fact, they use their wings to ‘fly’ underwater.
Later, from the internet, I learned a few more fun facts about these incredible birds:
- They are faithful partners who mate for life.
- With special glands behind their eyes, Puffins can drink seawater and filter and excrete the excess salt through their nostrils.
- While puffins are efficient swimmers, they are high-effort flyers that must flap their wings about 400 times per minute to fly.
Our drive was adventurous, and the weather was inclement…but it was well worth the effort to spend a couple of magical hours at Skálanes Nature and Heritage Center!
We retraced our route and reached Star Pride at 8PM. The dining room was still open and that’s where Jill and I had dinner. Afterward, Jill headed to our cabin, while I found a quiet space to talk with Debra, who was seven time zones behind us.
“Hon,” I began, and then I told her about our day.
We’ll set sail for Akureyri, a town in northern Iceland, early afternoon tomorrow. Jill and I booked an excursion to a nature bath and waterfall. I look forward to sharing our experiences with you in my next story. Stay tuned.
We retraced our route and reached Star Pride at 8PM. The dining room was still open and that’s where Jill and I had dinner. Afterward, Jill headed to our cabin, while I found a quiet space to talk with Debra, who was seven time zones behind us.
“Hon,” I began, and then I told her about our day.
We’ll set sail for Akureyri, a town in northern Iceland, early afternoon tomorrow. Jill and I booked an excursion to a nature bath and waterfall. I look forward to sharing our experiences with you in my next story. Stay tuned.