Vanlife

When I, Chloé Ferrari, decided I wanted the Icelandic experience, the land of sagas welcomed me with open arms – offering the glow of volcanic eruptions, dancing northern lights, howling storms, and nature unleashed and unfiltered in its exquisite, sometimes treacherous, beauty.

I'm 27 years old and was previously working in Paris for PwC, the world’s second-largest professional service firm, until the call of the wild lured me to the open road. Since 2019, I've been freelancing as a communication consultant from my van and have written two books about van life in France, "Drive Your Adventure," in collaboration with Volkswagen.

When deciding my next destination, I knew it had to be the Nordic region. The little windows to Iceland on Instagram and travel blogs were magnetic. Unlike the rushed atmosphere of airports, which is not my style, I found through online searches that I could take my van to Iceland aboard Smyril Line’s ferry Norröna. I booked the tickets in August 2021 and set out for Iceland on May 24.

I expected a drab car ferry but was pleasantly surprised to find that Norröna resembled more of a cruise ship, complete with a gym, library, and great inexpensive vegetarian food options. From the top deck bistro, Laterna Magica, I marvelled at the midnight sun on the way north and the starry dome over the sea on the return south. I chose not to use the available Wi-Fi, opting instead to connect with fellow travellers on board. We toasted to our journey, not realizing our paths would cross again many times in Iceland. I cherished these bonds throughout the adventure.

Sailing into Seyðisfjörður was magical. It was a gentle experience with Norröna – no chaotic security or boarding queues, no mad dash into a noisy city upon arrival. Just a peaceful welcome in a cozy little village nestled below majestic mountains, marking the perfect start to my adventure.

A small part of me worried that Iceland might not live up to its spectacular reputation, fearing I had seen it all on Instagram. But Iceland proved to be so much more. My little van and I spent plenty of time exploring the lesser-known F-roads. No image on a screen could replicate the roar of waterfalls or the spray of droplets on my face. The Ring road was far from trite once I was on it.

It seemed as though some age-old force wanted to show me the power of place, of being there. One evening, as I was driving up the F-35 for a remote hike, my van broke down, which, luckily, detained me long enough to learn of an eruption 150 km away. Once the van was running, I headed straight for the eruption site. I was impressed by the organization of the rescue teams, keeping everyone safe. By 11:30 pm, I was sitting through the night in the heat from the volcano, watching new earth forming.

This was undoubtedly the highlight of my trip, but Iceland for me is a rich well of intense memories. Like the 4-day hike to the uninhabited Hornstrandir nature reserve in the Northwest, accessible only by boat. The reality of being truly in the wild hit me when fog and snow set in on the very first day, prompting the thought, "I don't want to die here." But like all storms, it passed, and I was rewarded with spectacular sights of arctic foxes on the beach.

The van proved its mettle, especially during my first river crossing. With little overland driving experience, I arrived early at Landmannalaugar as recommended for gentler flow. Ultimately, I had to brave it alone, sending up a drone to record my crossing, securing myself with the safety belt, and hoping for the best.

There were also times, like when pitching a tent on volcanic sand and being woken by roaring winds, or the 5-day hike to Askja caldera interrupted by 150km/h winds, that tested my resilience. The main challenge in Iceland wasn't the rain – you expect that in the North Atlantic – but rather the overpowering wind, which was at times exhausting.

I hope all travellers remember that nature in the North Atlantic is truly wild. While you may become blasé about danger signs in some places, they are there for a reason. My time in Iceland is filled with wonderful memories of intense experiences, but I could have done without witnessing tourists get trapped by sneaker waves at Reynisfjara Beach. One did not make it back to land. Adventure should never come at the expense of safety.

I recommend traveling up on board Norröna to all travellers. It means you can bring all your hiking gear and dry food, which can lead to big savings. For 3 months in a van, I probably spent the same as someone on a 2-week trip by air, because access to nature is mostly free.

The vast beautiful landscapes mean you will never have time for everything. Pick your unmissable activity and book in advance. For me, it was whale watching and seeing the puffins in Vestmannaeyjar. I had packed telephoto lenses hoping to spot a puffin from afar, but in the end, they spotted me first.

Hikes in Iceland and the Faroes are often not very long or tough, but sudden changes in weather can double the time they take. Always remember your warm clothes, charged phones, headlamps, and blankets – and never ignore local advice.

If staying longer than 2 weeks, get an Iceland Camping card for big savings on nice campsites off the beaten track.

Consider if you really need a 4x4. Petrol is more expensive, and 95% of Iceland and the Faroe Islands is accessible without one.

Exploring the Faroe Islands by bike is also a great option. The distances aren’t vast and bikes are easy to transport on ferries between islands.

From the moment I set foot on the Faroe Islands, I felt an unexpected sense of belonging. In Tórshavn, my search for a taste of home led me to Café Panamé, where a simple French croissant turned into hours of enriching conversation with the owner. The city, with its vibrantly coloured roofs, reminded me of a quaint Scandinavian dollhouse, blending the familiar with the exotic.

The landscapes of the Faroe Islands are nothing short of breathtaking. Navigating through the myriad tunnels connecting the islands, I was mesmerized by the dramatic shifts in weather, from sunlit cliffs to mist-shrouded valleys in mere moments. To truly embrace the spirit of these islands, I discovered, one must explore on foot. Despite the frequent fog, the hikes are surreal, like wandering through a living dream, where each step reveals a new, hidden world.

My reflections on the Faroe Islands are filled with images of an expansive sky archipelago, where time seems to pause, allowing for intimate encounters with the environment, like witnessing locals engage in the age-old tradition of air-drying fish. This place invites you to unwind, to immerse yourself in its serene, welcoming atmosphere. I was particularly enchanted by the picturesque villages of Gjógv and Tjørnuvík, where life moves at a gentle pace. Here, distances are short, but the journeys are rich; each road winds through landscapes so spectacular, they demand you stop, look, and savour.

The indelible impressions left by Iceland and the Faroe Islands are a testament to the raw, unbridled beauty of nature. These lands, untamed and majestic, have etched a profound mark on my heart, reminding me of the wild's enduring allure and the necessity of approaching our adventures with respect and humility.

As I share this journey, my hope is not just to inspire wanderlust but to kindle a deeper appreciation for our natural world. I urge future travellers to tread lightly and thoughtfully, embracing the majesty of these places while honouring their fragility and grandeur. Remember, the true beauty of adventure lies not in the distance travelled but in the respect and awe we bring to each step of the journey.