Day 5: Over the Mountains

Buckle up everyone! This is the day I have been most excited to recount and share with you. It was utterly magical and my most favorite of all the days of riding. If you haven’t already fallen in love with Iceland or its horses, you’re about to. This post is the longest yet, so I hope you have a beverage to settle in with as you enjoy.  

Setting Out for the Longest Ride Yet

This day promised to be our longest outing yet with 7-8 hours from the time we departed one pasture until we reached the next one. We would be traveling from the southern coast of Iceland’s western peninsula over the mountains to the lowlands of the northern coast. Siggi would lead us. Rain was in the forecast midday, but it looked like we would start dry and end dry. 

From the beginning, I was most excited for this day. The beaches were remarkable. The waterfalls spilling over the cliffs to the coast were stunning. But mountains are where my heart lies, and I was eager to experience mountains on the back of an Icelandic horse. And when I learned that Siggi, who had proven to be so generous sharing stories about his country and land, would be leading, I was even more excited. Backcountry horse travel guided by a local regaling me with stories of land and culture? YES, PLEASE.

Following breakfast and lunch prep (yes, I made Visa a small peanut butter sandwich treat), we loaded in the shuttle buses for the 30 minute ride to where we’d left the horses the night prior. Because of the distance we would travel to the other side of the peninsula, and because Siggi was joining the group, additional horses were also trailered to the starting point. (I think I mentioned in a prior post, but additional horses are brought along in case of a thrown shoe, injury, or desire to swap mounts.)

Once everyone arrived at the starting point, the trailered horses were unloaded and the pastured horses were rounded up and tacked. I held some of the trailered horses while the pastured ones were readied. One of the horses was given to me and described as “young and dumb” and the next as “older and bitchy”. Both descriptions left me giggling, even more so as both of their described personalities became more and more evident with each passing moment that I held them. 

Once everyone else was tacked up, I passed “young and dumb” and “older and bitchy” off to two other people while I quickly readied Visa. 

Truck and trailer arriving to the start point

"Young and dumb" in reality, he's 8 and he has a ton of potential and Siggi is so very excited about his future. He just lacks confidence right now, but Siggi is working to help him build more confidence with every ride.

My lady, prepped for the day

Into the Mountains at Speed

Around 1pm, we were on the horses and moving out. And when I say moving out, I mean Moving Out. With Siggi in the lead, no time was wasted. We left the pasture and moved immediately into a tolt as we zoomed down the gravel road. Our only pauses were to open and close the numerous sheep gates as we traveled along. Once all horses were through the gate and it was closed again, back to a tolt we went. 

I couldn’t help but giggle to myself at the stark difference in pace compared to the other days. I could already tell I was definitely going to love this day. 

The first several miles of the ride were on gravel roads as we approached the foot of the mountains. They loomed larger and larger the closer we got. I found myself with a smile plastered to my face watching the landscape evolve as we traveled along. The giddy excitement that originally led me to the sport of endurance reignited with gusto. I was so eager to see what was around each bend in the trail. Riding in the mountains, seeking each new adventure around the next bend, and exploring new places on horseback is what I absolutely live for!

In no time at all (in reality, it was after about 7 sheep gates), the road faded into wildness as we tolted through a mixture of grassland and wetland right to the base of the mountain we would climb. My perma-grin was in place as the landscape became wilder. The only way I can describe it is that I felt utterly, unmistakably alive.

The entire time we’d been riding toward the base of the mountain, I’d been eyeing it up for our likely path of ascent. While Iceland was new to me, riding cross-country on a horse was not. Finding the path of least resistance for the horse and myself was something I was quite adept at. The very place I reckoned we’d ascend, a stream gully, was the spot Siggi pulled up and dismounted, announcing that we’d rest the horses for a short time before our climb.

Annnnd we're off!

Waiting for everyone to slip through the gate (behind me)

The mountains draw ever nearer!

Siggi dismounted to greet this landowner, whom he had not met prior. 

We walked onward while Siggi and the landowner talked for a short time. Lele led her horse and Siggi's horse + the four hand horses. Y'all, these horses are SO GOOD.

Eeee mountains!

Grassland, however, soil and flora indicated many areas of bog/wetland that existed patchily throughout. Super neat ecotype for me to observe. Similar but different to what I know. My inner biologist was geeking out quietly.

The gully right of center is what we'd climb up.

Siggi is at the point we'd take a break

Letting the horses rest a touch

Sustainable Tourism

While we rested the horses, I chatted a bit with our guide from the preceding days, Lele. She’s originally from Germany, but now lives in Iceland and has firmly embraced the farming culture there. Her passion for it is evident in how her face lights up every time she talks about it. However, while we rested the horses, I learned of her other passion: sustainable tourism. 

She shared her views on it and her strong desire to make a difference improving tourism in Iceland to be more sustainable. She noted how important it was to pursue tourism in a way that supported the people, culture, and environment of a place, not in a way that was to their detriment. Things like supporting family run businesses - like Stori Kambur - versus corporate businesses. This helps preserve rural ways of life, traditions, and family legacies. Supporting the people who live in a place helps them to keep living there and helps the place to continue to be somewhere worth visiting. 

This kind of sustainable tourism isn’t just about minimizing harm, it’s about actively choosing to leave a place better than you found it. Supporting local farmers, guides, and artisans means that the culture and traditions of a region don’t just survive, but thrive. It’s a way of saying that the people who call this land home matter as much as the sights we’ve come to see. In Iceland, where fragile ecosystems and small communities carry the weight of so many visitors, sustainable choices ensure that the magic of the place - the wild landscapes, the quiet farms, the unique sense of belonging - remains intact for generations.

As someone who was born, raised, and still calls home to a place that is also a tourism hotspot for its unique heritage and environment, I very much understood where Lele was coming from. Finding a way to build sustainable tourism in Appalachia has been an ongoing challenge, too. Welcoming visitors who want to experience the beauty of our mountains and culture, while also making sure that the people who live here can keep calling it home. I’ve seen how tourism can drive up costs, dilute traditions, drive locals away, and turn communities into spectacles rather than places where real people live and work. However, in recent years I have seen that, when done thoughtfully, tourism can create amazing opportunities. Listening to Lele, I realized that even though Iceland and Appalachia are oceans apart, the heart of the struggle is the same: how to invite the world in without losing the soul of the place.

Climbing into the Highlands

I carried her words with me, still turning them over in my mind, when Siggi announced it was time to press on. The gully rose before us, demanding our attention, and thought gave way to movement.

At Siggi’s instruction, we remained unmounted and led the horses up the gully on foot. We stopped numerous times so that no one was out of breath. At the first pause, Siggi told us the history of the path we were climbing.

It was originally a postal route used to deliver mail between farms, communities, and towns. Iceland’s first formal postal system was established under Danish rule. Because of the island’s rugged terrain, many of these routes were far from formal roads, consisting instead of footpaths, horse trails, and high-country tracks used seasonally or only when weather permitted. You can imagine how grueling and dangerous being a postman must have been!

As we climbed the gully, the rain arrived. It started as a mist, but by the time we reached the top, it really settled into a steady drizzle. I had to wipe my saddle off with my jacket sleeve before swinging a leg over. 

As I settled into the saddle and got my jacket draped *just so* to stay completely dry, Siggi stood next to a pile of stones that he called guardian stones. He explained to us that the stones help sheep herders (who let their sheep graze free in the highlands during the warm months and then gather them up again in the fall) navigate the treacherous high country where weather can change rapidly. One should be able to stand atop one pile of stones and view the next one in the distance. By traveling from one set of stones to the other, one can safely navigate through the highlands. Siggi noted that the guardian stones we’d see here are more ruggedly built than those that exist elsewhere in Iceland; some of them are masterfully done. He also noted that to survive for years/decades at a time, the stones must be piled in dry areas; if they’re built in boggy areas, they tend to disappear. 

Siggi remounted his horse at the conclusion of this bit of history, and we set off through the highlands as the light, but steady rain came down on us. 

You can drink straight from this and many other waterways. I'd pause and have some sips during one of our many pauses up this incline.

Note the misty raindrops on my saddle. It was starting to pick up.

Siggi in the center telling the history

Siggi sharing about the guardian stones

Across the Highlands

The highlands were rugged, rocky, and boggy. Coupled with the mist and rain, they were quite ethereal. 

As we traveled along and I took in my surroundings, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Dolly Sods, Canaan Valley, and Blister Swamp at home in West Virginia - three areas that boast boglands with flora more common to the arctic circle than the latitudes they occur at in Appalachia. The footing, however, was unlike home. It was much more predictable and solid where it wasn’t a bog. At home in the Sods, you’ve got bogs, some firm ground, and a lot of areas with a thin layer of earth and roots over rocks. The latter is quite dangerous as it can quickly give way under a horse, introducing a narrow crevice that can quickly lead to a broken leg. While horses aren’t forbidden from any trails in Dolly Sods by law, we stay off many of them because they are very unsafe to travel for the horses.

As we dipped down to cross a bog between two higher rocky areas, Siggi noted the land bridge we’d use to safely travel over the bog. He shared that while we will never know his name, a farmer built the bridge centuries ago. Many have been and would continue to be grateful to this nameless person for making travel safer and simpler. 

With time, we descended to a grassy area along a stream where we took a saddles-off break. Blessedly, the rain let up some while we enjoyed this break. 

After a time, we remounted and traveled across more highlands. We eventually descended and crossed a river before taking a break along a main road. 

Into the Highlands!

Rocky and boggy. Lots of moss and wetland obligate plants interspersed throughout. The brownish-red is a wetter area compared to surrounding, if memory serves. Foreground is softer mossy hummocks

Rocky "islands" throughout

Short cliffline above

I loved the mist and the rain. I seriously don't know that I'd have enjoyed this section as much if the weather had been pretty clear skies. This was just perfect!

More guardian stones. You can see more in the distance.

A dramatic grey day makes colors pop SO much more. 

While rocky, it was easy to travel across when compared to rocky areas I'm more used to at home. When we'd reach the top of the second climb later, that would be different. Here, you'll see stone sizes are more similar to gravel; later they'd be cobble.

Bog in this little shallow valley. Firm ground on the high areas around it.

I'm not wholly certain, but I'd venture a guess the red coloring of the stream is due to iron deposits.

JUST LOOK AT IT! Aaagh, it's so gorgeous.

Dismounting to make sure the hand horses drink well. The lead on the far horse is sometimes too short for them to reach I discovered on prior days.

Sure, Visa, that's a great spot to stand. Joking aside, it's definitely a nice way to stand for stretching.

Snacks for all!

Cold, Singing, and the Final Climb

At this break, I took time to add an insulated layer under my jacket. While I was dry, the cold, damp air had chilled me. I also debated ditching my wet gloves, but opted to keep them on as they weren’t soaked too thoroughly. 

To raise spirits from feeling cold and wet, much singing was done during this break in many languages: English, French, German, and Icelandic. Of course, everyone sang Country Roads again. While I enjoy the song, I won’t lie, I was definitely tiring of it by this point. Since the night before, several folks had been singing it quietly on and off. It is certainly catchy! Amidst the smiles of everyone as they sang, I couldn’t help but join in.

Ready to leave after the first break

Across the final bit of the highlands before our descent

More stones left of center. River and road in distance. We'd stop near the road after crossing river.

As the rain began to drizzle again, we remounted, crossed the road, traveled along it for a time, and finally began climbing the next mountain. The more we climbed, the heavier the rain became. I was so grateful for my long jacket and tall boots. Other than my hands, I was dry and comfortable.

The last bit of the climb was the steepest but Visa charged up like the professional she is amidst the rainfall. We were right behind Siggi at this point, and I just followed his lead. He knew this land and his horses, and the horses were comfortable with the terrain and task at hand. I did my best to let Visa do her job and support her where I could.  

Shortly after reaching the top of the climb and traveling across flatter terrain on top, the rain ceased. The thick clouds swirled as the weather front transitioned and moved. The occasional patch of blue sky was visible. It was exactly what I had hoped for when I’d seen the forecast that morning. A rainy period with dramatic shifting skies adding to the utter magic of the landscape. Simply stunning. I honestly don’t have adequate words to describe it, nor do I think my photos capture it completely.  

As the rain ceased, we took a pause for a rider to address water in her boots - from which water literally poured out when she took them off and overturned them. While she did that, I took the opportunity to squeeze out my gloves and finally opted ditched them. 

Everyone adjusting wet things

Drenched.

Flying Across Rugged Terrain

From this point onward for the remainder of the day, I kept Visa parked behind Siggi in the lead. As I noted above, Siggi knew this terrain, he knew his horses, and Visa knew her job. This would prove to be a perfect decision as it enabled me to really experience what these horses are capable of while listening to traditional songs being sung by Siggi as we zoomed through the rocky highlands at a fast tolt and occasional hand gallop. 

I can hardly describe to you the joy of traveling along such rugged terrain at speed. These horses are so nimble and capable. The cobble sized rocks littering the ground were a complete nonissue. I fell utterly and completely in love with the breed in these moments. Never have I traveled such rugged terrain at such a speed. It was incredible. 

Traveling in that way amidst an environment that was so very ethereal and otherworldly with the parting clouds and moving mist and spots of sunlight was the highlight of the entire trip for me. I had a huge, huge grin on my face and was having the absolute time of my life.

Intermittently as we zipped along, Siggi would break into various traditional songs. He has such a stunning, deep voice and I loved what his song added to the entire moment I was experiencing.

At one point, Siggi and his hand horses gallivanting in the front and Lele with her hand horses directly in front of me, I shouted to out to no one in particular, “God, I fucking LOVE these horses!” Lele heard me and turned in her saddle to shoot me a huge smile of agreement as we flew along. 

Eventually, we reached a road. Siggi shared that it was the old highway that was decommissioned a couple decades ago; he remembered when it was operational during his childhood. At this road, we dismounted and took a short break. I stuffed a bit of my sandwich into my mouth finally while Visa mugged me for food. (She’d received her peanut butter sandwich treat at an earlier stop, fret not!) 

Note the footing evolving from gravel sized stone to cobble sized

Blue skies!

Siggi sharing something. Potentially answering my question about the structure in the distance that turned out to be a no-longer-used emergency shelter for folks travelling in the highlands. 

How freaking gorgeous is this rugged landscape?!

The aforementioned emergency shelter and a touch of rainbow

The spot we stopped for a little break

Between Two Ears

After the break, we followed along the road first at a tolt and then a walk because Siggi wanted to tell us a story about trolls and the rocks we saw looming above us. He settled himself in the middle of the group to tell his tale, leaving Jan and I in the front. 

I’ll tell you what, I was surprised at how much I cherished those minutes at the front with nothing in front of me but the stunning view and Visa’s ears. I’d not thought much all week about being guided as opposed to being the guide and how the view differed. But in those moments I was tickled to only have Visa’s ears between me and the landscape. 

As Siggi’s story unfolded behind me, my mind loosely followed it while I was totally enraptured by the dramatic view in front of me. The ocean came into view in the distance as we peeked down the slope between two mountains on either side of us. The sun danced through the clouds and the mist, lending drama to an already stunning view. It was a religious experience to witness such astounding beauty. Ohmygracious.

Blue skies ahead!

Still dreary skies behind

Peep the ocean in the distance!

Into the Lupine 

Once Siggi’s tale ended, he took the lead again with Kristín and her hand horses following behind. Visa and I, with Jan and his horse, settled in behind them. 

As we descended into the lowlands, we entered the most vast expanse of lupine I’ve ever seen in my life. Lupine is one of my absolute FAVORITE flowers, so you can bet that I was trying to plot a way to make it back to Iceland one day when it’s in bloom just so I could travel through it on horseback. Just wow. 

At one point after we’d been in the dense lupine for a time, Siggi paused us to share that from that point onward for the rest of the day (4 to 6 miles or so if recollection serves me), we’d be on his family’s land. It extended from the mountain tops to the sea; we’d get a taste for how truly expansive it was because we wouldn’t leave it for the rest of the ride. 

A short ways after we entered Siggi’s family’s land ,we paused once more to dismount and give the horses one final break. As I took photos, Visa kept drawing me in one direction. At first, I thought it was to graze. But then she wouldn’t eat, choosing instead to stare into the distance. Eventually, I led her back toward the group after staring into the distance with her, wondering what she was so drawn to.

The drama of the sunlight on this landscape!

It was otherwordly

Faint rainbow

The green ahead is lupine

Lupine!

Siggi letting us know we'd just crossed onto his property and would remain on it through the end of the day

Human, do you have more snacks for me?

The Final Leg

Once remounted, Siggi set off again. As he chose his path of travel I quickly learned what Visa had been so drawn toward - the night’s pasture was in that direction! And now that Siggi was heading that way, Visa was magnetized toward him. I hardly touched the reins or gave a single aid to her for these next miles. She knew where she was going and she was on a mission. I gave her her head and did my best to stay out of her way.

We loosely followed a river as we traversed through a landscape I can only describe as unique to Iceland at this point as I haven’t encountered such an ecotype before. It was as if bogland and grassland had a baby. Hummocks of what I can only assume were something akin to peat made for tricky footing, but Visa and the other horses traversed it like it was nothing. Foot perfect to a fault. 

Finally, right between the 7-8 hour mark for the day’s adventure, we reached the gate for the night’s pasture. We made quick work of untacking the horses and setting them free. They all meandered away, many rolling in the rocks and dirt before heading to the pasture…except Visa. As all the others were rolling and meandering off, she stood beside me while I scratched her all over. Eventually, everyone noticed her remaining; it drew smiles and chuckles from many. Such a sweet, sweet soul, that little mare.

Please scratch more!

Enjoy your night off

Whisky, Vans, Music, and Stories

As I followed everyone back to the shuttles to load our saddles and people, Atli pulled some 25-year Glenmorangie out with a big grin. Siggi, Kate, and I were the closest and we gave whoops of delight before taking swigs as it passed around to all interested. 

By the time we loaded into the shuttles, the only remaining seat was shotgun in the van Atli was driving. I happily took it; as someone who gets carsick easily, I was grateful to sit up front for the hour commute back to our lodging. 

However, as Atli put the van in reverse, it quickly sank to its running boards in the soft rocky soil. Womp, womp. Without hesitation though, we put horse girl power (and Atli!) to work and pushed it out while Kristín put it in reverse and gave it gas. 

Following this, the rest of the trip home was uneventful. I had a great chat with Atli about Icelandic horses and the sorry state of US politics that made the hour’s drive pass quickly. 

We arrived at the farm around 9pm where we quickly showered and changed and sat down for dinner. Dinner was a dish I can’t remember the name of, but was essentially a casserole/hotdish of mashed potatoes and whitefish blended together and topped with cheese. Dessert was homemade ice cream.

After dinner, Kristín, Atli, and Siggi sang for a time. Between their three voices, the entire vocal range was represented from baritone to soprano. It was stunning to listen to. 

Following the music, Kate and I sat up with Siggi until nearly 1am listening to his stories about the farm, finding an old Viking longhouse and other relics on the property, hearing a tale about people from the 1600s that lived on the land, his house ghost, the difference between spirits (draugar and vættir were the terms, I believe - one is malevolent and the other just a presence), and a bit about the Icelanders that were taken into slavery by Turkish pirates, how the Danish crown failed them, and more. I was grateful for his generosity in sharing his country’s history. It was absolutely captivating to hear every piece of what he shared. 

The day was so very long, but was a high point of the trip so far. Siggi leading us and regaling us with so many stories about Iceland’s history and lore added so much to the experience of riding Icelandic horses through its mountains. What an utterly fantastic and incredible day.