Clamp THIS On

This will come as no surprise. I don’t really care for (read: despise) organized tours. They’re cumbersome, expensive and controlling - three traits I do not value unless they’re being attributed to me. Needless to say, I was not thrilled to learn that the only way we could go glacier trekking was with a guide equipped with professional grade clamp-ons, ice picks and a Land Rover Defender that can driver vertically up the side of a cliff. “What’s wrong with my sneakers and rented Nissan Versa, huh?”

We booked in and hit the road in the wee hours of the morning (it was 10am but it felt like the wee hours because it was still pitch black) to meet our Defender-driving Icelandic outback version of John Wayne. After fording a few raging streams (the Nissan could have handled that) we arrived at our destination: an enormous block of ice that has been permanently frozen between two ridges for more than 500 years. No big deal.



Sadly, our Icelandic moutain men had forgotten our rental hiking boots, which left me strapping military-grade clamp-ons to my multi-colored Aasics Tiger sneakers. Bad idea. An hour into the half-day escapade I was walking flat-footed doing all I could to not bend my ankle as the clamp-ons ground deep into my achilles tendon at the back of both feet.



The trek wound up the side of the glacier where the oldest ice now rested. Because it’s ice, as the new layers form in the winter, the older stuff slowly moves downhill, meaning the most ancient layers are furthest from the center. The darker the ice looks, the more compact it is. In fact, that dark blue color comes not from a different or superbly clean source of water, but from being so tightly compacted that no light can be captured, reflected or filtered through it.



If you’re looking to get a visual on climate change, this is the place to do it. The glacier we were hiking across is roughly one mile wide, five miles long and half a mile deep (TWSS). Twelve years ago, however, it was nearly double the size. While research has been done on whether such changes in mass are cyclical, it was determined - without question - that this latest thaw does not match - in any way, shape or form - the traditional freezing and melting patterns of this glacier. In fact, the glacier has lost the same amount of mass in the mast twelve years that it lost in the previous 500 years before that. But yeah, this whole climate change thing is totally made up.

After leaping back down onto earth with tired legs and gashed feet, we re-boarded the earth-galloping Defender and headed back to the “big city” of Reykjavik, a whole lot of earth to think about and a whole lot of nighttime during which to do that thinking.

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Kyle Taylor

The Blue Lagoon

I had been reading about this place for years. An enormous collection of geo-thermal pools filled with natural mineral water that’s loaded with salts and minerals that retain all sort sorts of natural healing powers. One of National Geographic’s TOP FIVE places to go before you die. A health spa, medical treatment center and hot tub all rolled into one that includes the largest bath robe you’ve ever seen as part of your admission. Can you think of anything better?

The hype was not too great. In fact, nothing could have over-shot the brilliance of this seemingly fabled place. The approach road runs alongside the apparent run-off stream, meaning the first sign that you’ve arrived is a visual of neon blue water swirling up, down and around bright green moss-covered craggy volcanic rock. The parking lot is separated from the facility by a long access path that runs between two mini volcanic “mountain ranges.” At the end is the “wild” portion of the hot springs. Un-contained, their natural color makes you question everything you believed to be “naturally occurring” in this world of ours.



Through the doors you “pay and display” an electronic wristband that handles everything from lockers to snacks. It couldn’t be more high-tech. After finding your locker and swapping winter layers for trendy swim trunks, you descend the stairs into the Indoor access tank. Set at a perfect 101 degrees, the water is both invigorating and relaxing all at the same time. Swinging the in-pool door open puts you feet first into exfoliating lava rocks that line the bottom of the expansive outdoor pools that literally stretch as far as the eye can see.

After visits to the steam room and sauna we glare at the folks getting in-water body massages and make our way to the included face mask distribution center to cover ourselves in the actual mineral salts that aim to heal everything from psoriasis to depression. This carries on for a good three hours with the gentle droplets of cold rain water balancing the intense heat of the soothing geothermally heated pool.

We exit the soothing pool of happiness and wonderment revitalized and rejuvenated, take a forever-long hot shower, return our robes, stop in the shop for some much-needed kitsch and hit the road back to Reykjavik. Oh. What. A. Day.

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Kyle Taylor

Eternal Darkness In Icelandic Perfection

We touchdown at 5pm and it’s pitch black outside. The uber-modern airport terminal feels more like a chic hotel or art gallery than somewhere you’d board a plane, though I’m probably just overly used to the 1970’s “flair” of most US airports. We grab our bags, sign the car rental paperwork and leave Mom with our luggage while Dad and I make our way to the vehicle itself. While seems calm from the inside, the large glass door slides open to reveal monsoon-like wind and rain that makes me feel like I’m on a sea troller in the North Atlantic. The only thing missing is a giant wave to sink my ship. Welcome to Iceland.

After checking in to the charming Hotel Leiffur Erickson located a stone’s throw from the country’s main Lutheran Cathedral (which was designed to resemble an erupting volcano) we hit the streets in search of food. It’s only 7pm but it “feels” like it’s about three in the morning. The streets are empty, stores are closed and there is an odd absence of people. Restaurants, however, are busting at the seams. After eating at several it’s easy to understand why. The food is out of this world.



We go to bed early, though it feels terribly late once again because it’s pitch black outside. We wake up at 9am and it is still pitch black outside. It isn’t until 11:45am that a bit of light begins to creep up over the horizon. By 4pm it is completely dark yet again. It’s difficult to describe this sensation of near constant darkness. It is as if nature is playing a trick on your mind. You “know” it’s mid-afternoon but because it’s pitch black you begin question reality. “Know, this watch has to be wrong,” you tell yourself. “It’s too dark to be 1pm.” The entire experience - which only lasted four days - was an amazing lesson in how weather - and more specifically light - effects our lives. My Dad was near breakdown by day three, still wildly overwhelmed by it all. “Man, I can’t believe it’s 11 in the morning. It just doesn’t feel right! Goodness, this is strange.”

Of course on the flip side is 24-hour daylight in June and July - a period of nearly six weeks when the sun never sets and instead whizzes along the horizon in a complete 360 every 24 hours. While that is no doubt the “time” to see Iceland, the lack of daylight was still unable to spoil the shear beauty of this somewhat mystical land. From gushing waterfalls to erupting geysers, mysterious geothermal hot springs to massive indoor greenhouses, otherworldly glaciers to picturesque countryside, Iceland is perfect. Perfect sites, perfect food, perfect hotel, perfect people. If you look up “perfect” in the Kyle Dictionary you’d see a map of Iceland and a caption that reads “visit in person.” Having been to 68 countries in this wonderful world of ours, I can safely safe that Iceland has reserved itself a place in the top three. Yes, it’s that good.

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Kyle Taylor