Hiking in Iceland in Winter

Words and pictures by Yanshu Li, who is a storyteller who focuses on business and economics journalism at Boston University in the U.S. Follow her on Twitter and on Flickr. She went hiking in Iceland in winter.

Hiking in Iceland in Winter at Búrfellsgjá crater

Búrfellsgjá is a crater formed 8,000 years ago. The highest rim is 180 meters. The lava channel and the vast land stretching out from the cone contributed to a great hiking trail near Reykjavik. It takes approximately 20 minutes to drive from the capital via Route 41.

Magnús, an outdoor enthusiast, took me on a hiking trip to this ancient field in a snowy Christmas afternoon. The snowflakes were elegantly falling, quietly and determinedly covering the lava trace. The trail became invisible.

Magnús is a volunteer rescuer for Flugbjörgunarsveitin in Reykjavik.

He turned into a walking machine the minute his feet touched the ground. We traversed open land where they used to keep the sheep; now it looked like deserted stone walls.

Home of the elves?

The land that was mossy green in the summer was now completely white. Passing by a lava hill where the piled-up snow was cracked and shattered, which revealed the black part. Magnús pointed at the concave and said, “The elves live in there.” Then he looked at me, with an observable expectation of me going, “Oh really? Amazing!” But, no, I just laughed at him. I thought he was joking.

The wind was strong on the higher field. The snowflakes felt sharp against the face. Dodging the wind with our heads down, we were only focusing on the path one meter ahead. But something was telling us to look up.

The view through the lava channel transformed into a panorama when we reached the highest point on the rim. The sound of wind occupied the ears. The outline of things disappeared. The horizon divided the world into the vast snowy land and the gloomy blue sky. Magnús was silent. I looked at him and wanted to say something. Then I decided not to. Language was redundant. Wordless was the word.

Listening to my heartbeat

We began to run down the hill. Running in the snow felt more like a sense of feebleness in the legs – no matter how I pulled myself together, the legs only got more attached to the snow.

Without a thought, I threw myself in the air to let my body fall on the snow, although the snow didn’t cushion much. What’s left in my eyes now is the dimming sky. While the Nordic sunset washed out the color of the red wine, the rest of the world was in dark blue. The two colors mixed in the chilly air I was drawn into.

Everything went quiet. There was absolutely nothing to think about. I felt my heart was beating stronger against the firm ground. Till the heartbeats went steady, I heard the snow was falling. The reflection of the disappearing sunset brushed the blurry sky in maroon.

Overwhelmed by the scene, I forgot I had a camera. Without the interruption from the shutter sound, I had the tranquility of pure nature all by myself. I felt an animal inside of me – a living creature that could be satisfied by living itself.

Magnús was lying down somewhere closer. He made no sound.

Becoming obsessed with Iceland

The first hiking trip I had in Iceland ended when the daylight completely faded. The 5.5-kilometer trail of Búrfellsgjá unveiled the natural wonderland for me. I became obsessed with Iceland ever since.

It said that the best time to visit Iceland was from May to August. That was not false. The Icelandic national bird, the puffin, is back. The daytime gets long, and it’s perfect for outdoor activities. It was also true that visiting Iceland in winter can be a unique and extraordinary experience.

As I looked afar, thinking about the joke Magnús had told, I wondered if he was not joking. Maybe the elves were there. The magnificent landscape was just like the story of elves. It was too good to be true.