ICELAND WAS ONCE A JOURNEY BY SEA. THE VOYAGE VIA THE FAROE ISLANDS WAS AN ADVENTURE IN ITSELF
In July 2006, I set off for Iceland for the first time. The journey began with a minibus ride from Prague to the Danish port of Hanstholm, followed by a ferry crossing aboard the Norröna via the Faroe Islands to Seyðisfjörður. We spent twelve days travelling around the entire island. Little did I know then that I would return to Iceland time and time again.
It All Began in Hanstholm
My first trip to Iceland was not a short flight for a long weekend. We travelled with the tour operator Periscope Skandinávie by minibus from Prague to Hanstholm in Denmark, where we boarded the Norröna ferry to Iceland. Ahead of us lay several days at sea in the North Atlantic, a stop in the Faroe Islands and, only then, Iceland.
The journey itself was already an adventure.
We saw dolphins, sheep on the Shetland Islands and oil platforms. From the second day onwards, however, there was almost nothing around us but ocean. Water in every direction, a horizon without land and a ship beneath our feet, moving as the waves allowed.
ou only begin to understand just how vast the ocean is when you spend several days looking at nothing else. Land is no longer something you take for granted. Suddenly, it becomes something distant, something that may not appear for many hours.
The sea was rough and the Norröna was rocking quite heavily. We felt it most at the bow, where our cabin had no windows. I had brought some travel sickness tablets just in case, but in the end I never needed them. Surprisingly, the motion did not bother me. I actually enjoyed it. One evening, though, I had to strap myself into the upper bunk using the safety belts so I would not end up on the floor.
Some of my fellow passengers had laughed at me for bringing the tablets. By the following morning, however, they were asking if I could spare them a few. The sea had a very different opinion of their stomachs than they did.
The Norröna Ferry: From Denmark to Iceland
The following timetable describes the current route, rather than our historic departure from Hanstholm in 2006.
Route | Departure | Arrival | Sailing time |
Hirtshals – Tórshavn | Sunday, 3:00 pm | Tuesday, 7:30 am | Approx. 40.5 hours |
Tórshavn – Seyðisfjörður | Tuesday, 1:00 pm | Wednesday, 9:00 am | Approx. 20 hours |
Total | Sunday | Wednesday | Approx. 66 hours |
Additional practical information:
Ferry operator: Smyril Line
Ship: Norröna
Route: Hirtshals (Denmark) – Tórshavn (Faroe Islands) – Seyðisfjörður (Iceland)
Passenger cars, motorhomes and motorcycles can be transported.
Official timetable: Smyril Line – Sailing Schedule 2027.
The Faroe Islands, Where the Ocean Revealed Its Power
On the third day, we arrived in Tórshavn. We exchanged some money in the harbour and I saw Faroese banknotes for the first time. They seemed so unusual and, to be honest, rather unattractive that I kept one as a souvenir. I still have it today.
We spent two days in the Faroe Islands. It was a wonderful change after the endless expanse of ocean. Green slopes, small settlements, steep coastlines and a sea that could show in an instant that humans were not in control of anything here.
One of our trips on a small boat turned into quite an ordeal. A strong wind was blowing, waves were rising and crashing against the bow. Water was sweeping across the deck, and we were relieved when we finally reached the harbour and docked safely.
On one of the tiny islands, where only a handful of houses stood, we saw enormous flocks of puffins. We also came across two hunters, a father and his son. When they returned, they were carrying a net full of birds into one of the cottages.
It was a scene from a completely different world. A life far away from cities, in a landscape where the weather, the sea and traditions had determined how people made a living for generations. At the time, I had no idea how many similar images I would carry away in my memory from Iceland and its surroundings.
The Faroe Islands are characterized by steep cliffs plunging into the sea. Photo: Roman Pech The Faroe Islands are characterized by steep cliffs plunging into the sea. Photo: Roman Pech The Faroe Islands are characterized by steep cliffs plunging into the sea. Photo: Roman Pech The Faroe Islands are sparsely populated outside the towns. Photo: Roman Pech The Villingadalsfjall cliff in the Faroe Islands resembles a Roman amphitheatre. Photo: Roman Pech The village of Viðareiði on the island of Viðoy. Photo: Roman Pech A fjord in the Faroe Islands. Photo: Roman Pech Sheep farming is one of the main sources of livelihood in the Faroe Islands. Photo: Roman Pech Sheep in the Faroe Islands. Photo: Roman Pech High above a fjord on the edge of a cliff. Photo: Roman Pech View of the fjord from the top of Villingadalsfjall. Photo: Roman Pech A fisherman in the Faroe Islands. Photo: Roman Pech Local residents divide up the day's catch. Photo: Roman Pech People in the Faroe Islands lead a modest lifestyle. Photo: Roman Pech In summer, the cliffs on the island of Mykines are home to colonies of Atlantic puffins. A colony of Atlantic puffins on the island of Mykines. Photo: Roman Pech Puffins resting on the cliffs of Mykines. Photo: Roman Pech Puffins are abundant in the Faroe Islands during the summer months. Photo: Roman Pech For a few days each year, local residents are allowed to hunt puffins. Photo: Roman Pech A father and son out hunting puffins on the island of Mykines. Photo: Roman Pech Hunters carry their catch home. Photo: Roman Pech The traditional village of Mykines on the island of the same name in the Faroe Islands. Puffins on a cliff overlooking the sea. Photo: Roman Pech An Atlantic puffin. Photo: Roman Pech A colony of Atlantic puffins on a cliff. Photo: Roman Pech The old town of Tórshavn, the capital of the Faroe Islands. Photo: Roman Pech The Norröna ferry in the port of Tórshavn. Photo: Roman Pech
When Iceland Emerged on the Horizon
After the Faroe Islands, we continued towards Iceland. Our destination was Seyðisfjörður, a harbour in the east of the country, hidden deep between imposing mountains.
When the Icelandic cliffs began to appear before us, I was deeply moved.
I cannot say exactly why. Perhaps it was because we had spent several days crossing the ocean and the land was suddenly rising from the horizon in all its grandeur. Perhaps I already sensed that I was arriving somewhere that would continue to draw me back long after I had left.
From the very first moment, I was absorbing everything I saw and heard. Place names stayed in my mind after hearing them just once. I remembered every name, every legend and every story our guide told us along the way.
For me, Iceland was not simply a collection of beautiful views. Every place had a story behind it, and every name seemed to hold a piece of the landscape. Gradually, I began to understand that Icelandic place names were not just words that foreigners had to learn to pronounce. Many of them describe the landscape, its features or traces of stories from long ago.
And somewhere among the mountains, waterfalls and lava fields, trolls and elves became part of it all. Legends were not merely decorative additions to the stories. They were a natural part of the way people talked about their country.
The Midnight Sun: When Night Never Quite Arrives
We arrived in Iceland on 12 July and had twelve days of travelling ahead of us. At that time of year, the sun barely sets at night. At least, not in the way we were used to back home.
One evening, we were sitting outside our accommodation, chatting, and nobody felt like going indoors. The weather was pleasant, everything was quiet and the sky was still bright. Suddenly, someone glanced at their watch and exclaimed:
"Is it already one o'clock?"
It was as bright outside as it would be around midday. The sun was hovering just above the horizon, as if it were about to disappear for a moment, only to change its mind and start climbing again.
That was when we understood why Icelandic accommodation often has such heavy curtains that hardly any light can get through. Coming from Central Europe, you are simply not prepared for something like this. Your body tells you it is long past bedtime, but your eyes insist that it is still daytime.
We did not feel like sleeping. It almost seemed a shame to close our eyes when there was still so much to see outside. But after several days of travelling, long drives and countless experiences, our bodies had a different opinion. Eventually, they demanded some rest.
The midnight sun was one of the first moments when I realised that Iceland does not follow the rules I was used to.
Hot Springs, Hákarl and Place Names Full of Stories
Over the course of twelve days, we travelled all the way around Iceland before gradually making our way back to Reykjavík. Along the way, I discovered things that are now inseparable from Iceland, but were completely new to me at the time.
I discovered what it meant to bathe in naturally hot geothermal water. Not just as a pleasant way to warm up after a long day, but as part of everyday Icelandic life. Warm water, steam rising into the cold air and a moment when you can forget about the kilometres behind you, the weather and whatever awaits you the following day.
I also began to discover Icelandic cuisine. Including hákarl, fermented shark meat, whose reputation precedes it long before you actually taste it. And once you do, the flavour stays with you for quite some time.
And then there were the place names. Eyjafjallajökull, Landmannalaugar and dozens of others. At first, they sounded like words from a language I would never be able to learn. But the more I discovered the country, the more I felt that its names belonged to it as naturally as its mountains, glaciers and rivers.
Every name was a key to another place. And every place came with a new story.
Landmannalaugar and Colours I Still Remember Today
One of the highlights of the trip for me was Landmannalaugar. The colourful mountains of Iceland's interior were supposed to be one of the most beautiful places on our journey. But when we arrived, we were greeted by rain and a grey veil of cloud.
The landscape disappeared behind the clouds. All we could do was imagine what lay beyond them.
Just before we set off towards Reykjavík, however, the weather suddenly changed. The sun came out and everything was bathed in bright, vivid colours.
I still remember that moment today.
Perhaps it was not just the beauty of the landscape itself. It was also the contrast. Only moments earlier, we had been standing in the rain and grey mist, and suddenly a world of colours opened up before us, almost too extraordinary to be real.
Iceland taught me then that its beauty cannot be ordered for a specific time. You have to accept the rain, the wind and the moments when you can barely see anything at all. And then a few minutes may come along that you remember for the rest of your life.
The Norröna ferry in a Danish port. Photo: Roman Pech On board the Norröna. Photo: Roman Pech The Norröna departing from the port of Hanstholm. Photo: Roman Pech The Norröna leaving the mainland behind. Photo: Roman Pech The ferry approaches the Icelandic coast. Photo: Roman Pech A Periscope Skandinávie minibus crossing a shallow glacial river in Iceland. Photo: Roman Pech In the Icelandic interior, passengers sometimes had to help push a vehicle out of the sand. The road into the Icelandic interior. Photo: Roman Pech Dettifoss, Europe's most powerful waterfall. Photo: Roman Pech Icelandic horses drinking by a river. Photo: Roman Pech An amphibious boat carrying tourists across the Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon. Photo: Roman Pech Bathing in the hot water of Grjótagjá cave in northern Iceland. Photo: Roman Pech Bathing in Stóragjá cave. Photo: Roman Pech A geothermal pool in Landmannalaugar. Photo: Roman Pech The Strokkur geyser during an eruption. Photo: Roman Pech
Twelve Days That Did Not End When We Left
When we returned to Reykjavík after travelling around the entire island, I had twelve days of images, stories and new words behind me. I had seen a landscape I had previously known only from my imagination and discovered a country whose rhythm was completely different from anything I had been used to.
I knew I would not be visiting Iceland for the last time.
It was not some grand decision or promise. Rather, it was a quiet conviction that stayed with me. Some places you visit, photograph and eventually remember from time to time. And then there are places that get under your skin and never really leave.
Iceland became one of them for me.
And I was not the only one. As far as I know, all of my fellow travellers from that trip returned to Iceland at least once more.
Perhaps each of us took something different away from that first journey. I came away knowing that I had discovered a place I would want to return to. I also had the feeling that although I had seen the country for the first time, somehow it felt as if I had known it for a long time.
Since then, I have returned to Iceland many times. Each visit has brought something new, and each time the island has managed to surprise me. But the memory of that first journey remains special.
Because that was when Iceland, a remote island in the middle of the Atlantic, became something much more to me than just a destination on a map.
About the Author
Iceland has fascinated me for many years. Over the course of numerous journeys across the island, I have driven tens of thousands of kilometers, experienced storms that changed travel plans within minutes, and witnessed days when choosing the right route meant discovering places that most visitors never see. I documented many of these experiences in my documentary film Island in the North.
Through this website, I share practical travel advice, up-to-date information, and firsthand experiences from the field to help others explore Iceland more safely and gain a deeper understanding of its unique landscapes and ever-changing nature.
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