Wind and Rain on Iceland’s East Coast

As I prepared for my journey in Iceland, many of the blogs I read said that the East Coast of Iceland would be the longest, most desolate part of my journey. Towns would be few and far between and even gas stations would be rare. And while both of those things are true, I found something in the eastern fjords of Iceland that I didn’t find anywhere else.

It was a bitter-cold-rain day. The sky was covered in grey clouds all day. I began my journey in Seydisfjordur, a small town between a mountain range and a fjord. I could barely see the side of the road as I drove up over the mountains to leave town. But on the other side, I wound my way through villages and farmland towards the coastline.

When I had visited the Westfjords, I found serenity, beauty, and peace. These fjords and the coastline were nothing like that. Their power, ferocity, was intimidating. Huge icy waves crashed into the shore. The wind and rain whipped across my face and I gave up on trying to keep my hair out of my face.

Though I saw more cars than my visit to the Westfjords, I still felt entirely alone. At one point, as I stood at the tip of a peninsula jutting out into the ocean, I took off my coat and hat and just felt the wind and rain rush around me. It was freezing. But I felt that power, that energy, of the ocean rushing through me. It was electrifying.

I took a break part of the way on my trip and visited a hot pot hidden away on the side of the road. I was pulsing with the energy of the world around me, and I wanted to sit and soak everything in. But before I could hop in, two more visitors to the hot pot arrived. And while I was surprised at first, I ended up having a great time soaking and chatting with them (hi Robb and Rachel!). They were so sweet to even invite me to stay with them should I ever wind up in London. People here are so wonderful!

I continued my trip south to Hofn, stopping briefly to make some new four-legged friends. But I will never forget that feeling I had, standing with the cold air grabbing my hair and throwing it this way and that, with the waves crashing below me.

Iceland’s East Coast is desolate. But it is this emptiness that gives it its power to truly take your breath away.