Winter travel isn’t a new phenomenon. Divulge your plans to ski the slopes of Aspen, shop the Christmas markets of Germany, or ice skate in New York’s Central Park and you’ll be met with covetous looks and exclamations of jealousy. Friends will regale you with choruses of “oh how you must do this” and “oh how you can’t miss that.” Should you tell those same acquaintances you’ll be spending the winter vacationing in Iceland, quizzical looks and implied “but whys” will greet you instead.
Perhaps Iceland itself is at fault for this. Already burdened with a misleading name, the island is riddled with a host of other inadequacies. There are no medieval castles. No coliseums or grand pyramids. No romantic remnants left to show off its historically rich past. It’s a country that’s still in the midst of its own creation.
A place where fire and ice vie for attention as active volcanoes make themselves heard by spewing lava onto the shifting glaciers below. Diverging tectonic plates continually alter the landscape, lengthening Iceland’s landmass as they thrust apart. Frigid waves strike against dark-as-onyx sand beaches and transparent lakes fill the confines of volcanic craters. Geysers jet up towards the heavens from desolate lands. Wisps of steam hover over the surfaces of geothermal pools while solar storms forge masterpieces from green, pink, and purple hues that lithely dance above majestic waterfalls......
To read the rest of this article I had published in Coastal Lifestyle Magazine click here.
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