Exploring the Untamed Wilderness of Iceland's Hornstrandir

Whispers of Strandir

Today, David and I found ourselves enveloped in the serene yet melancholic embrace of Djúpavík. It’s a place where the past feels not just remembered, but tangibly present, etched into the very landscape. The air is crisp, carrying with it the scent of the sea and a hint of something… else. Perhaps it’s the lingering essence of the lives that once thrived here, drawn by the promise of silver in the sea. As a translator, I often find myself drawn to places where stories linger, and Djúpavík is a veritable library of untold narratives.


Discover the historic Djúpavík, where Iceland's fishing legacy comes to life in a stunning coastal setting, perfect for nature lovers and history buffs alike.

Our day began with a hearty breakfast at Stúkuhúsið, a cozy spot in Patreksfjörður, where we enjoyed traditional Icelandic fare. The warmth of the cafe was a welcome contrast to the chilly November air. I savored the freshly baked bread and soup, a simple pleasure that always reminds me of my mother’s kitchen back in Sai Kung. David, ever the history enthusiast, was already poring over maps, eager to trace the route to our main destination: Djúpavík.


Discover the rich flavors of traditional Icelandic cuisine at Stúkuhúsið in Patreksfjörður - where every dish tells a story.

The drive itself was an experience, a visual feast of Iceland’s raw beauty. The landscape unfolded before us in a series of dramatic vistas – rugged coastline meeting turbulent seas, punctuated by mountains dusted with early snow. I couldn’t help but think of Emily, our daughter, and how she would have loved to capture these scenes with her camera. I made a mental note to encourage her to visit; the stark beauty of Hornstrandir would surely inspire her artistic soul. Driving along road #643 through the Árneshreppur municipality is one of the most scenic drives you could ever take.

As we approached Djúpavík, the remnants of the herring factory loomed into view, stark against the horizon. It was an imposing structure, a concrete giant that seemed both out of place and perfectly at home in this remote corner of the world. The factory, once the largest concrete building in Iceland, stood as a testament to a bygone era when herring was king. It was built in 1935 and the factory floor was filled with modern machinery for processing herring to produce fishmeal and oil.

Exploring the factory ruins was like stepping back in time. The skeletal remains of machinery hinted at the bustling activity that once filled these halls. I imagined the workers, their faces etched with determination, laboring tirelessly to process the endless bounty of the sea. The air was thick with the ghosts of their efforts, their hopes, and their dreams. The well-known Icelandic band Sigur Ros held a concert there in 2008.

In every ruin, a story waits to be discovered.

Djúpavík's story began when a herring salting station was built here in 1917. The village of Djúpavík was first settled in 1917 when Elías Stefánsson built a herring salting factory there. Guðjón Jónsson moved to Djúpavík in 1917 with his wife Krístín Guðmundsdóttir and three children to serve as the factory's supervisor. They were the village's first residents.

After our historical immersion, hunger beckoned. For lunch, we decided to try Thai Tawee in Ísafjörður. It felt a bit surreal to find a Thai restaurant in such a remote location, but the reviews were promising. The warm and kind service, along with the generous portions of curried lamb and savory beef stir fry, were a delightful surprise. It was a comforting taste of Asia, a reminder of my roots amidst the Icelandic wilderness.


Experience the best of authentic Thai cuisine fused with Icelandic flavors at Thai Tawee in Ísafjörður.

After lunch, we walked to Djúpavík Waterfall, which towers above the small village. There is a good hiking trail by the waterfall. As we stood at the base of the falls, the cascading water seemed to echo the relentless passage of time, a constant reminder of nature’s enduring power. The wind whipped around us, carrying the spray of the falls and the distant cries of seabirds. I thought of David’s parents, now resting peacefully, and how they had always encouraged us to seek out the beauty in the world, no matter how far-flung.

Before heading back to our campsite, we made a stop at Café Riis Hólmavík - Restaurant - Pizzeria & Bar for a quick drink. The café was cozy and inviting, a welcome respite from the blustery weather. It was a good place to relax and refuel for the journey back. The Riis building, remarkably preserved, is the village's oldest. It was originally a trading outpost constructed by the Danish merchant Ríkharður Riis in 1896 but has operated as a restaurant since 1996.


Discover the flavors of Iceland at Café Riis in Hólmavík, where delicious pizzas and local dishes meet a warm, inviting atmosphere.

Dinner tonight was at Tjöruhúsið in Ísafjörður, a renowned seafood restaurant that came highly recommended. It was an experience in itself. The restaurant had no set menu. Instead, they serve whatever fish the local fishermen caught. The evening we visited, the fish included langostine, halibut, salmon, salt cod, cod cheeks, wolffish and more. The atmosphere was convivial, with long communal tables fostering a sense of shared adventure. The seafood was incredibly fresh and flavorful, a true celebration of Iceland’s maritime bounty. I savored every bite, thinking of the Cantonese dishes I used to cook for my family, each one a labor of love.


Discover authentic Icelandic seafood at Tjöruhúsið in Ísafjörður—where every dish tells a story from the sea.

As we drove back to our campsite under the inky sky, I felt a profound sense of gratitude. Djúpavík had touched me in a way I hadn’t expected, stirring up memories and emotions that lay dormant within me. It was a reminder that even in the most desolate of places, life persists, stories endure, and beauty can be found in the most unexpected corners.

Tomorrow, we plan to visit Krossneslaug, a remote thermal pool nestled along the coast. I’m looking forward to soaking in the warm waters, surrounded by the dramatic landscape. But for tonight, I’ll drift off to sleep with the whispers of Djúpavík echoing in my dreams, a poignant reminder of the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of the past.

The weather in Iceland in November can be challenging and unpredictable. The average temperature in November is 1.1°C (33,9°F). Be prepared for anything, snow, rain, sunshine and occasional storms or blizzards, also know that the weather can change very fast. Driving during the winter in Iceland can be difficult and dangerous as there can be ice or snow on the road and sometimes a blizzard and a complete white out.