The loud hum of the airplane engine is long gone now, replaced by the soft, unfamiliar sounds of an Icelandic evening. But let’s rewind to where it all began: a hot, humid evening in Nashville. I arrived early at the airport, like a good rule-follower (which I normally am not), buzzing with a strange mix of nerves and excitement. I was headed across the ocean, alone, to hike the Laugavegur Trail in Iceland— the first part of my 2nd mid-life crisis and a commitment.
The Sheraton Music City Hotel was my parking lot of choice—cheaper than airport parking and just a quick shuttle ride away. While adjusting the straps on my backpack, a woman noticed and offered me a lift to the shuttle stop, which was a significant help. She and her husband had just finished a two-year bus journey across the U.S. in their converted bus, which they were look to sell. I was interested and grateful the universe put me in their vehicle but but Iceland was calling. like the universe’s way of sending me off with a little trail magic before I even reached a trailhead.
The Flight
On the overnight flight, sleep stayed far away. My mind raced with anticipation, and my inner thigh decided to throb in protest. Classic. Around 2 a.m. Iceland time, the sky began to brighten, revealing what I thought was an iceberg—turns out, it was a jagged Canadian mountain cutting through the clouds. It felt like a glimpse into another world.
Landing at Keflavík felt surreal. I fumbled my way through the airport in search of Icelandic Krona, which turned into a bit of a treasure hunt. I finally found the exchange tucked near security. Mission one complete.
From Airport to Campsite
The shuttle to Reykjavík was quiet. I sat beside a Canadian ultra-runner en route to a solo trek in Iceland’s remote north. His calm energy was contagious. When we pulled up to the Reykjavík Eco Campsite, the staff kindly let me check in early. I found a small patch of grass and set up my tent, feeling both completely uneasy as I learned my new surroundings and I also felt perfectly at home.
A quick lap around the grounds revealed clean bathrooms, warm showers, and a communal kitchen. I had only three hours of airplane dozing in me, but adrenaline said it was time to explore.
Finding My Rhythm in Reykjavík
Next door was a surprise delight: a Family Park and Botanical Garden—lush, green, and in full bloom. I wandered through, soaking in the crisp Icelandic air. At some point, I started greeting people like I would back home in Boston, tossing out a friendly “Hey, how are ya?” It didn’t go over great. Most people just looked mildly confused or gave me that polite, tight-lipped smile that says, “I have no idea what you just said.” Honestly, I should’ve remembered this is exactly how it went when I first moved to Knoxville. No one responded to “Hey, how are ya?” there either. In East Tennessee, the go-to is a simple “How you?” Eventually, I figured out the international version: just say “hi.” It’s friendly, non-threatening, and doesn’t confuse anyone about whether they’re supposed to answer.
Fuel and Food
My first errand was to N1 for stove fuel. Mission accomplished. I also browsed unfamiliar chip flavors and noticed the second Black person I’d seen in the country so far. In a place where I was clearly an outsider, even that brief recognition felt quietly grounding. Black people make up a small but growing part of Iceland’s population, many from the U.S., Africa, or the Caribbean, and some have come for love, work, or the sheer beauty of the landscape. There’s even a small but mighty Black community here, organizing events and sharing stories through platforms like @BlackInIceland.
And can we talk about the genius of selling camp stove gas at an actual gas station? In the U.S., you have to track it down at an outdoor store or big-box retailer. Iceland keeps it simple: you need gas, go to the gas station. Practical. Logical. Clearly a society less tangled in corporate nonsense.
Next stop: Bónus, Iceland’s most budget-friendly grocery chain, easily recognized by its bright yellow sign and confused-looking pink pig mascot. Did you know Bónus was founded in 1989 and helped lower the cost of living across Iceland by refusing to stock overpriced brand-name goods? A national hero in the form of a discount pig.
The self-checkout was an act of faith—I think I paid? Either way, I walked out with mint chocolates and a small sense of triumph. Back on the streets of Reykjavík, the mosaic-like sidewalks were surprisingly helpful for navigating with limited vision. Each step was part of a quiet rhythm: learning, adjusting, noticing, and moving forward.
Walking Tour: Myths, History, and Steam
Later, I joined a free walking tour of the city. After some confusion about the meeting point, I found my group and fell into step. Our guide brought the city’s Viking roots to life with stories of Norse gods, harsh winters, and Reykjavík’s name—”Smoky Bay,” named after the steam that rises from nearby geothermal springs.
We stopped near Parliament House, passed quirky sculptures, and learned that many Icelanders still believe in elves—known as huldufólk—said to live under rocks and hills. Some road construction has even been rerouted to avoid disturbing their invisible dwellings. In Reykjavík, myth and reality dance side by side.
Vegan Dinner and Road Walking
Dinner was at Vegan World Peace, a cozy, inviting restaurant tucked just far enough off the main drag to feel like a discovery. The menu is entirely plant-based, with a mix of Asian-inspired dishes, hearty bowls, and Icelandic spins on comfort food. It’s one of Reykjavík’s most beloved vegan spots—run by a small team committed to the idea that food can be both healing and peaceful. I went all in: an appetizer, a hot main dish, and enough leftovers to cover breakfast the next day. The star of the meal was Mapo Tofu, silky and spicy with just the right kick of heat to revive me after the day’s accidental marathon.
Speaking of which—I had walked over 16 miles, unintentionally, racking up 37,000 steps just by wandering the city in all directions. It turns out that trail prep doesn’t always require mountains; sometimes, your legs get broken in just fine on Reykjavik’s mosaic sidewalks and gentle hills. By the time I sat down to eat, I was equal parts exhausted and grateful, my muscles buzzing and my stomach ready for a reward. Vegan World Peace delivered on all fronts: nourishment, warmth, and the kind of quiet calm you want to wrap yourself in before a big adventure.
Camp Kitchen Conversations
Back at camp, my phone and watch were charging—and so was my spirit. The communal kitchen was buzzing at 10 p.m., packed with the kind of low-lit energy you only get when strangers become neighbors. Pots clanked, languages mixed, and the whole place hummed with that beautiful chaos of shared space. That’s where I met Martin, a friendly German guy who had just moved to Iceland for a tech job. He was living at the campsite while waiting for his apartment to be ready—an unexpected arrangement that seemed perfectly in tune with the Icelandic rhythm of rolling with what nature and timing allow.
We found two spots at the counter and started chatting. He wasn’t eating, just taking in the room while his laptop sat open in front of him. “Want to see something cool?” he asked, already flipping the screen toward me. It was drone footage—captured just earlier that day by his friend—of the Sundhnúkagígar eruption near Grindavík, which had begun just days before on July 18.
The footage was stunning. Bright rivers of lava curled and pulsed through the dark terrain like glowing veins. But it wasn’t frightening—it was mesmerizing. Surreal and alive, like the Earth had briefly pulled back its skin to show us what’s underneath. What struck me most was how calm Martin was as he described hiking out there with his friend. This wasn’t adventure tourism—it was life here. A real-time reminder that Iceland is still being formed right under your feet.
We swapped stories for a while—about backpacks, trail plans, and places we both hoped to explore. Martin’s move to Iceland wasn’t just about a job. He talked about wanting something quieter, more grounded. He mentioned how the health care system here, much like in Germany, just works. “It’s one less thing to worry about,” he said. Coming from the U.S., where even a routine check-up can be a financial gamble, that hit me harder than I expected.
The conversation drifted into politics—not the fiery, divisive kind, but the gentle back-and-forth of two people trying to understand the world. He said Iceland felt like a place where people solve problems together, where things move slowly but deliberately. We both laughed at how easy it must be to make national decisions when you can literally call everyone. But even so, it felt like the kind of place that believes in the common good.
I didn’t know it then, but this moment—sitting at a crowded counter in a steamy communal kitchen, watching lava flow across a laptop screen—was a preview of what Iceland would offer me again and again: not just epic scenery, but small human connections that shift the way you see things.
The Night Before Everything
As midnight approached, the sky still refused to go fully dark. I zipped up my tent and lay there, surrounded by the soft rustle of fellow travelers settling in. My legs ached, my brain buzzed, and my heart felt ready.
Tomorrow, I hike. But tonight, I rest in Reykjavík—a city of steam, stories, trolls, and strangers who wave back when you say hi.
This is the time before the hike. And even now, I can feel the trail calling.
“I’d already walked 16 miles without meaning to, racking up 37,000 steps just by wandering Reykjavik in all directions. Turns out, trail prep doesn’t always require mountains—sometimes city sidewalks and a confused ‘Hey, how are ya?’ will do just fine.”
Iceland has a way of sneaking up on you — from unexpected volcanic eruptions to discovering the “international hello” is just a simple “hi.” Join me as I step into the unknown, trading meetings for moss-covered lava fields and finding adventure in every awkward greeting.
Curious how a midlife crisis turned into a journey of a lifetime? Check out my first moments in this wild new world: