This isn’t a write up, a travel guide or anything you should follow if you have landed here looking for Iceland related things. Loads of people are doing that really ace, so I’ll do something else.

I’m drawing a line under the bizarre conditions about how I ended up here and won’t even go into any depth about how I spent an hour in a police station in Reykjavik…it’s not what I want to ramble to you about.

I don’t actually know what I want to ramble about.

I think it’s the nothing…


I’m not saying here is nothing, there are those epic mountains and gorges and lagoons of volcanically tasty warm water. But that’s not really what’s stuck in my brain.


It’s the moments spent by yourself surrounded by vast expanses, a moist tingle in the air after a downpour, the boggy ground smelling sweet and herby…and the silence…

Literally nothing.

No sound at all, no birds, none of those land insects, not even that nighttime holiday animal that goes witwoo.

Just the sound of your own heart and your own breathing. That’s when you remember to… for some reason I kept forgetting to breath, not because I was breath-taken by the landscape or anything wanky like that…I would just forget to inhale because it was so bloody quiet.


The best thing to do here is just to drive.

Stop anywhere. Anywhere is beautiful.

Get out of the car and just stand in the crispy blue silence and do nothing.


I’m aware this is the shittest blog post on Iceland on the internet, but that’s my rant on it. I’d love to return with two weeks and a camper van and just drive and find more quiet nothings.

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