Six Trips to Iceland: A French Travel Editor Shares What She’s Learned

I meet a lot of travelers at the day job, but every now and then someone walks in who’s clearly done their homework. Auriane Rezé-Duclos was on her sixth trip to Iceland when I met her at Lava Show, and it turns out she runs a French travel magazine of her own, En Route, Mauvaise Troupe (which translates into something like “Let’s go, you ragtag bunch”), where she writes “roadbooks” for the places she’s fallen for. Not the glossy, ten-things-to-do kind. More like the honest notes a good friend hands you over coffee before you leave: the real addresses, the stories behind the landscape, the walks she’s actually done herself.

What makes Auriane worth listening to is simple: she keeps coming back. Six trips are not an accident. And because she’s traveled all over Europe, from Scotland to Italy to Cyprus, she can tell you what Iceland does to a person that those other places don’t. She also slows down where most of us rush, which, after a few hundred conversations with visitors, I’ve come to think is the best advice there is for an Iceland trip. So I sat her down to get the practical stuff.

You’ve now been to Iceland six times. What have been your favorite places and activities?

It would be hard to pick just one, but I think I’d stick with the “down to earth” things:

• Driving — the road from Hella to Vík is my favorite, with Reykjavík to Þingvellir a close second. The scenery in Iceland is phenomenal, and I never get bored of it.
• Reading in a coffee shop. Iceland has an amazing coffee and bakery scene. My all-time favorite is Café Babalú: I fell in love with it during my very first trip to Iceland in 2016, with my sister. We used to hang out there daily.
• Þingvellir. I can’t imagine coming to Iceland and not going to Þingvellir. I can’t really explain why, but the vibe I get from this place is so powerful.

It’s also one of my best memories: in 2024, I came in February, my first winter visit. Of course I drove to Þingvellir to walk to Öxarárfoss, and… I realized everyone was wearing spiked shoes, and I was wearing sneakers. (Dear reader, it’s time for me to confess: that’s the kind of thing I do, all the time. I have a very nonchalant approach to traveling, I admit.) I’d driven an hour, and I wasn’t about to turn back without seeing Öxarárfoss. So I started walking, and the more I walked, the steeper it got, and it became VERY obvious to every other tourist that I wasn’t going to make it without help. And that’s when the Icelandic magic happened: people literally let me use their feet as stairs so I wouldn’t slide backward! That’s a core memory.

You’ve traveled all over Europe. Practically speaking, what should a visitor prepare differently for Iceland — weather, cost, daylight, driving distances — that catches people coming from elsewhere?

That’s a long list! Being so close to the Arctic Circle, Iceland turns into a whole different experience depending on the season. One of my favorite times to visit is April, which is pretty “normal” — but the midnight sun experience is confusing in a way I wouldn’t have anticipated. I kept waking up at 2 am, making coffee, taking a shower, and then realizing it was the middle of the night.

Another slight warning I’d give people: nature is powerful, and in Iceland maybe even more so. You SHOULD hold on to your car door if it’s windy; it’s not the rental company being overly dramatic. You SHOULD NOT turn your back on the water in Reynisfjara. I think nature in Iceland is very untamed, and kind of humbling.

Iceland is one of the places I wouldn’t consider visiting without renting a car. I’m not a huge fan of bus tours and strict schedules, and having a car lets me move around at my own pace without worrying about the schedule a bus driver gave us. It also allows for some “out of the crowd” moments — being alone at Seljalandsfoss at 10 pm, for instance, is a totally different experience than the one you’d get if you were there with a group.

Now, about the elephant in the room… yes, Iceland is expensive. Accommodation is expensive, food is expensive, activities are expensive, parking fees (and in my case, parking tickets) are expensive. On the other hand, I keep seeing people trying to do “Iceland on a budget” and eating triangle sandwiches every day just to stick to it. Not gonna lie, I’d rather get the full experience, even if it comes at a higher cost. Get the lamb burger, the cinnamon bun, and the arctic char. Go experience a lagoon (French readers, I actually wrote an article comparing the ones I tried). Get a puffin plushie, because come on, they’re so cute.

Your whole approach is to slow down and linger, but most first-timers try to cram the whole island into five days. For someone with, say, a week, how would you actually plan the trip so they enjoy it rather than just driving?

I’ve changed a lot since my first visit, when I did try to do the whole island in 7 days. As much as I loved it, 10 years later, I can’t remember most of the places I saw or place them on a map, because it was simply too much.

Now, if I had 7 days to plan as a first-timer, here’s what I would do:

1. As soon as you land, hop in your rental car and drive to the Blue Lagoon. Even if some other lagoons are phenomenal, the Blue Lagoon is iconic.
2. Spend 2 to 3 days in Reykjavík: climb to the top of Hallgrímskirkja, spend time on the rainbow street, try Café Babalú, and spend one evening at Hús Máls og Menningar. Get a cinnamon roll at Brauð & Co and eat it by Sólfar. Discover Icelandic food, either through a food tour or at local restaurants.
3. Early morning: leave Reykjavík for Þingvellir, then Geysir and Gullfoss. I’d recommend booking accommodation for the night and making the most of the Golden Circle — those three stops are the historic ones, but there’s so much more to see!
4. Spend 2 to 3 nights on the south coast: Hvolsvöllur is a strategic spot for accommodation, since it keeps you pretty central. The strategic twist: pick the day with the nicest weather and go to Dyrhólaey and Reynisfjara.
5. Head back to Reykjavík for a final day before flying home, until you come back (trust me).

But here’s the real advice, more than the itinerary itself: don’t overload your days. Leave room for improvisation — for stopping on the side of the road because you just saw a cute horse, or for staying way longer than planned at Geysir because you got hypnotized watching Strokkur erupt over and over. Iceland rewards the moments you didn’t plan for. If you cram five stops into one day, you’ll see everything and remember nothing. If you leave space, you’ll come home with actual memories instead of a checklist.

Your Iceland roadbook runs from Reykjavík to Vík, the stretch most visitors do. What’s a stop along that route that people blow straight past that they shouldn’t?

I do believe some of the waterfalls are overlooked, while others are simply too crowded. My two favorites fall somewhere in the middle: not as crowded as Skógafoss or Gullfoss, but not completely secret either.

• Brúarfoss: I do believe that’s the one I find prettiest. The color is simply stunning. I was there with about 20 other people, which is acceptable, I reckon.
• Gljúfrabúi: the view is stunning, but let’s face it, the trail is part of the experience. You need to walk into a small stream for a few meters to finally reach the waterfall.

Did I ever tell you I’m a very nonchalant planner? When I first got to Glúfrabúi, I hadn’t realized you needed hiking boots or rain gear. But I wasn’t about to let that ruin my experience, so I went anyway, in sneakers (again) and a jogging jacket. The wet socks were definitely worth the view, and honestly, it made for such a fun experience. When I left, soaking wet, I overheard some people saying they might “skip the fourth waterfall” because it was getting late. I had to step in and tell them they should definitely go (also, I checked — their shoes were suitable for Gljúfrafoss).

After six trips, what’s the most common practical mistake you see visitors make here — the thing that costs them money, time, or a good day — and how do you avoid it?

One comes to mind, and believe me, it definitely ruined the mood: you need to refill your fuel tank before it hits the alert level. Realizing you’re 30 km away from the nearest gas station while your car shows 20 km left is… pretty nerve-wracking.

More broadly, I’d say the biggest mistake is treating Iceland like any other European country and forgetting it’s genuinely a place apart: the midnight sun, if not anticipated, can be unsettling. F-roads are super fun… until you need to cross a river and you’re not sure your car is going to make it. And there’s no signal.

I think Iceland is the main reason I became so chill about traveling, because you definitely need a bit of an explorer mindset out there. But then again, isn’t that exactly why their first inhabitants were Vikings?