Nope, I haven’t been to Iceland — yet. But between the volcanic moonscapes, magical lagoons, and northern lights that look like nature’s screensaver, this country has been haunting my travel dreams (in the best way). So I did what any future explorer with Wi-Fi and wanderlust would do: I planned my ultimate Iceland nature tour — no plane ticket required (yet).
The journey starts in Reykjavik, Iceland’s cozy capital where colorful rooftops pop against the moody sky and every corner seems to house an art gallery, a hot spring, or someone recommending fermented shark. I imagine myself strolling past Hallgrímskirkja church, sipping a local coffee, and debating if a $200 wool sweater is a bold fashion statement or just a cry for help from the cold.
From there, I’d head to Thingvellir National Park, a UNESCO site where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates are slowly drifting apart. I'd stand in the rift between two continents, pretending I’m in a sci-fi film while snapping photos of moss-covered lava rocks that look like they’ve been placed there by trolls. Nature is dramatic here — and I’m here for it.
A short drive away, Strokkur geyser blasts hot water into the air every few minutes, like a punctual kettle on a mission. Nearby, Gullfoss waterfall crashes into a canyon with such force that it feels like the Earth is shouting. I'd be damp, delighted, and probably yelling, “Did you see that?!”
Further south, I’d explore the haunting black sands of Reynisfjara Beach. Between towering basalt stacks and moody sea mist, the landscape looks straight out of a fantasy novel. Also, there are puffins. And sheep. So many sheep. I’d probably spend an hour just taking their portraits and wondering if they get cold with those tiny legs.
Eventually, I’d reach Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon, where icebergs drift serenely across a mirror-like lake. I'd hop onto a boat, bundled in every layer I own, and marvel at how the ice glows from within like it’s lit by secrets. Then I’d eat something warm and carb-loaded because that’s what glacier vibes demand.
To end the dream tour, I’d find a remote field, wrap myself like a burrito in blankets, and wait for the northern lights. With luck, the sky would dance in green and purple ribbons while I try not to cry (from awe, not frostbite). It’s the kind of moment that lives in your bones forever — even if you haven’t felt it yet.
So no, I haven’t been to Iceland. But after imagining this trip, it feels a little closer. Who’s in?