The impact of tourism in Iceland has been widely documented, from a Justin Bieber music video closing a canyon to rules being introduced to improve the behavior of campers. However, problems caused by too many tourists are typically confined to the well-trodden south of the country. By visiting Iceland’s furthest reaches, you can escape the crowds altogether and benefit regions that need tourism most.
No more so than in the stunningly remote Westfjords in Iceland’s far northwest, a hauntingly beautiful region that receives less than 10% of Iceland’s tourism and actively wants more visitors. Here, lonely roads weave past brooding fjords and hulking mountains, punctuated by fishing communities that have made this unforgiving terrain home.
Getting to the Westfjords
My journey to the Westfjords began with a ride in a tiny propeller plane from Reykjavík to the region’s capital Ísafjörður. The landing was hair-raising; the plane banked sharply to the left as it descended along the fjord, completing a 180-degree turn before landing, further intensified by that day’s relentless rain and ominous grey skies. Once off the plane, I was struck by the power of the enormous black mountains surrounding me.
Local Culture in Ísafjörður
I set out to explore Ísafjörður, an easygoing little place where 18th-century buildings bear witness to a seafaring past. The town is full of cute places to eat, and I had lunch at Heimabyggð, devouring a moreish beetroot stew and delicious coffee amid the cozy interior while rain lashed down outside.
Then, I visited the Museum of Everyday Life. I wasn’t expecting much from this tiny spot, but it turned out to be one of the most moving, fascinating museums I’ve encountered, documenting the lives of local residents in humorous and often poignant ways. On one wall, shoes are accompanied by headphones, allowing you to listen to stories narrated by the footwear’s owners, while old hardback books filled with photos and letters line another wall.
The Arctic Fox Center at Súðavík
Next, I headed east to Súðavík, where sullen grey clouds swirled around snow-dusted mountaintops above a metallic blue sea, lurid yellow-green grass, and black rocks. There’s not much here, but the Arctic Fox Center is well worth a visit. The museum dedicated to these lovable creatures is interesting, but the highlight is seeing the orphaned fox who lives on-site (once reared by humans, Arctic foxes cannot be released back into the wild). Their resident good boy, Móri, is utterly adorable.
A Night in Flateyri
That night I stayed in sleepy Flateyri, which occupies a dramatic location jutting into Önundarfjörður beneath watchful mountains. After a browse in the delightful timewarp of the Old Bookstore, I settled in for the night at Bergshús, a former hospital beautifully converted into a house with views over the water.
Wales and Waterfalls at Dynjandi and Bíldudalur
The next day I set off for Bíldudalur, and this was my favorite journey of the trip: a stunning drive alongside gleaming fjords and over mountains blanketed in white. Around every corner seemed to reveal yet another completely unspoiled view that had remained unchanged for millennia. The highlight, however, was a stop at Dynjandi, which is rightly renowned as the Westfjords’ most famous waterfall. As I climbed up to the thundering cascade, I was rewarded with even more spectacular views back over the fjord.
I arrived in tiny Bíldudalur, which has an enviable location on serene Arnarfjörður. After a brief visit to the entertaining and fun Sea Monster Museum, filled with tales of local sightings, I participated in a whale-watching tour with Westfjords Adventures. Being out on the fjord while taking in the scenery would have been impressive enough alone, but it became even more special to see these majestic creatures in their natural habitat. This tour is run by a couple named Fríða and Gummi, who were also our hosts that night at the cozy B&B Harbour Inn. I dined at Vegamót, which of course serves top-notch fish and chips as well as excellent burgers.
Rauðasandur and Hellulaug
The final morning was my last in the Westfjords, and on my drive out of the region, I stopped off at Rauðasandur, an enormous expanse of multihued sand that drifts off in every direction in varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. There wasn’t a soul on this vast, windswept beach, and it was one of the highlights of the trip. The perfect goodbye to the Westfjords was to relax in Hellulaug, a thermal pool perched on a rocky stretch of seashore. Like everywhere else I visited in the Westfjords, there was no one else to interrupt the peace as I soaked in 38°C heat, admiring the final views of this incredible part of the world.
