Iceland has always seemed like a place conjured more by imagination than geography — an island of lava, glaciers, and silence, where the weather can change four times in a single hour. The Troll Peninsula, in the country’s north, is perhaps the wildest face of this land. That is where we spent a week of ski touring among fjords, snow-capped peaks, and arctic light, from 18 to 26 April.
The landscape is truly surreal — mountains rise directly from the ocean, and the snow descends almost to the water’s edge. Small fishing villages scattered along the fjords look like temporary refuges against the raw nature. The air is cold, clean, and filled with that particular silence found only far in the north.
The First Days
Iceland greeted us with unusual weather — mornings began with crystal-clear skies and near-perfect calm, a rarity in this region. The snow gleamed under the low arctic sun, and the fjords lay still as mirrors. We climbed peaks that opened up views across endless white ridges and the deep blue ocean.
The most striking thing about ski touring here is the contrast — you descend a wide snow slope and the sea is waiting below. The days had their own rhythm: long uphill approaches in near-total silence, brief rests on snowy ridges, and that feeling of freedom that only comes when you are far from everything familiar. The descents were varied in the soft spring firn. The weather was so calm that we often stopped simply to listen to the silence.
The Helicopter Adventure
One of those clear days we set aside for a helicopter adventure — an experience that is difficult to fully describe. As the machine lifted off, the sound of the rotors briefly broke the mountain’s calm. Moments later, the view transformed entirely. From the air, the Troll Peninsula looked like a vast labyrinth of icy ridges and crests, deep valleys carved into the land.
The descent began down a wide north-facing slope with perfect snow. The line dropped long toward the fjord, and the view of the ocean created the strange sensation of skiing between two worlds — ice and water. It was one of those rare moments when time seems to stop and you realise just how small you are amid such nature.
The Evenings and Departure
Evenings ended quietly — with tired legs, the smell of wet ski boots, and conversations about the next day. Outside, the light lingered long, and the snow slopes gradually turned pink in the sunset.
Iceland is not a place that impresses loudly. It works on you slowly and deeply — with its expanses, its wild solitude, and the feeling that nature is still stronger than man.
When we left the Troll Peninsula on 24 April, the weather was changing again. Clouds were returning from the ocean, and the peaks were gradually sinking into mist. As if Iceland was reminding us that the four sunny days had been a gift. And perhaps that is exactly why this journey will remain so vivid in our memory — not just for the snow, the peaks, or the helicopter, but for the feeling that for a short while we were part of a harsh and beautiful world that does not reveal itself easily.
