Iceland is renowned for its incredible natural beauty, so when I had the opportunity to sail nearly 1,200 nautical miles around the island on a National Geographic Lindblad cruise ship, I leapt at the chance. During the course of 10 August days, I played out all my past Arctic explorer fantasies (without having to face either scurvy, frostbite or cannibalism).
My wife Dee rarely gets to join me on my adventures (unlike me, she has a real job), but when she learned about my plans, she demanded to come along. Not wanting to be smothered in my sleep with a pillow, I agreed. We sailed on the National Geographic Explorer, which is a bit smaller than many other cruise ships, but in the midst of a refurbishment. Our room was also on the small side, but given how many times I need to get up in the middle of the night to pee, I didn’t mind.
Speaking of which, the clientele trended a bit older but were more adventurous than people decades younger. Everyone I spoke to felt like that cool aunt or uncle who all the kids would crowd around at holidays, listening to stories and hopefully snagging a souvenir or two. Hiking up a trail next to a thundering waterfall, I nearly got passed by a few of the exceptionally fit old-timers. Onboard, I never heard one who turned down an opportunity to see something new or cool.
Our first stop was Flately Island. It was like a postcard of rustic Iceland come to life. Dozens of colorful homes made up the tiny village, as if the residents spilled a box of Crayolas in the brightest hues across the landscape. Bits of cod were strung up to dry. A weatherbeaten piano was randomly located in a grass field overlooking the bay, waiting for a member of Sigur Ros to drop in for an impromptu concert. We’d been in the country for less than 48 hours at this point, and we thought to ourselves, “Yeah, this is Iceland.”
My biggest regret during the trip happened on that day. As we rushed back to the Nat Geo cruise ship, a couple sitting at a picnic table sipping white wine offered Dee and I a glass and some conversation. We politely declined and immediately regretted it. The whole point of the trip was to experience another culture, and we blew the most organic opportunity to do just that. (If the boat would have left without us, we could have just started new lives there!)
Later in the cruise, the mile-long hike up and down Dynjandi waterfall was relatively easy, with a couple of rocky segments to get the heart pumping. Hikers will find multiple spots along the hike to take photos, but be be conscious of not blocking the path for anyone else.
We were scheduled to visit the town of Vigur that evening, but rough seas made a landfall treacherous. Our spirits were brightened when the staff served us perhaps Iceland’s finest culinary delicacy, a hot dog. But these aren’t the wieners we’re used to in the States; Icelandic hot dogs are made with lamb, not the floor scraps American wieners consist of. A true Icelandic hot dog is covered in a wealth of condiments including crispy onions, raw onions, apple ketchup and remoulade; but being a basic bitch, I bucked tradition and had mine with just spicy mustard. It was still delicious.
Having written for National Geographic, I felt like a star on the ship, even if no one else realized it. But we did have two bona-fide Nat Geo celebrities on board, including Jeff Jenkins, host of Never Say Never. Having spent quite a bit of time together, I can say Jenkins is just like he is on TV — incredibly nice and engaging with everyone he met. If the ship lost power, he could walk into a dark room and light it up with his presence. We wound up in a public hot spring together in Húsavík, marking the first time I ever saw a Disney star shirtless in person. It was worth the wait.
How Expedition Cruising Appeals to the Adventurous Traveler
Submersibles includedThe second celebrity was photographer Paolo Verzone, who’s shot for the magazine for years. Verzone is nearly as skilled at teaching as he is photography, giving me plenty of tips on how to improve my own photos. Many of the other staff members are accomplished adventure professionals as well. Naturalist Gerard Baker is an acclaimed documentary filmmaker and presenter for the BBC (as well as the only person on board with a better beard than me). An expert in geology and marine ecology, Chelsea Leven has crisscrossed the globe multiple times, collecting rat scat in Chile and working as a U.S. park ranger.
I took photos of multiple waterfalls and other gorgeous landscapes, but I was most excited to finally capture a few decent shots of Atlantic puffins. I’ve been obsessed photographing these tiny sea birds for more than 15 years now; every time we’ve crossed passed in the ensuing years, the little buggers were too far away. Although the puffin breeding season had passed, a few stuck around for an extra few days before heading further out to sea. My first attempts failed, but luckily Verzone gave me some individualized instruction and more than a little encouragement. I managed to snap enough decent photos to keep from flinging myself off the cliffs.
Landing at Djúpivogur, we set across the landscape in 4x4s, exploring the recently christened “Valley of Waterfalls.” It’s telling that a random valley in southern Iceland can re-brand itself as “Valley of Waterfalls” to become a new tourist attraction and no one bats an eye because it also happens to be very accurate. In nearly every other country I’ve visited, the valley would be filled with convenience stories and souvenir shops, but in Iceland, it was almost completely devoid of other visitors.
About midway through the trip, you realize you’ve grown too accustomed to the stunning beauty greeting you at every port. “Oh, another stunning waterfall? More picturesque cottages painted in a rainbow array of colors? Another herd of wild horses with flowing blonde manes glistening in the afternoon glow? Booooring. What else do you have?”
Fair warning — being near the arctic, the weather can get pretty dicey and the ocean swells are massive. At least two of the nights I skipped dinner and slept until the next morning because the waves made me feel drunk. (Okay, I probably already was, so maybe a more apt description would be more drunk than normal.)
On our way back to the ship after the Djúpivogur excursion, our Zodiac transport got a little hairy. The nose of the Zodiac continued to pop up nearly 90-degrees and slam down into the waves. Between the swells, the rain and possibly peeing myself a little, I was drenched. Meanwhile, Beau Price, our Aussie Zodiac driver, looked like an action hero as he steered us back to the ship, with a massive grin and his long black hair flowing back in the frigid air, looking like a long-lost Hemsworth brother. Getting back onto the cruise ship from the Zodiac required pinpoint timing, taking advantage of the .7 seconds the smaller boat was still enough to hop aboard the larger one. There may have been a few people who had PTSD afterward — at least one person said it was the scariest thing they’d ever experienced — but I think nearly everyone agreed it was all worth it.
It’s a given on a cruise like this that some flexibility is required. Our final departure day was canceled because of rough seas, but the crew had a special surprise for us. The Sundhnúksgígar volcano had erupted that week, and we would get a front-row seat to the bubbling magma. Soon after reaching Reykjavik, we were loaded on three huge tour buses and brought down to a former American military base that overlooked the moving lava. Even though we were at a safe distance, you could smell the sulfur in the air. I could have stayed there all night snapping photos, but unfortunately we had to get back to our boat.
Geology naturalist Laura Mony had studied volcanos for much of her life, but that was the first time she’d ever saw one in person. The experience epitomizes sailing on an expedition cruise ship. “You got to be ready for unexpected changes,” she says. “You know heading in that the program is likely going to change. Luckily, the people on these cruises are typically very curious; they’re here for knowledge more than the comfort [of a typical cruise ship].”
I haven’t done many cruises, but this one was my favorite by far. I don’t care about onboard casinos or lounging on deck chairs. When I head ashore, I want adventure and actual culture, not trinket stands or overcrowded beaches filled with German tourists wearing Speedos. The National Geographic Lindblad cruise gave me a taste of real Iceland, much like I saw in the magazine as a kid. The company will be offering a similar eight-day cruise next year, and I’m tempted to stow away for at least one sailing.
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