ICELAND TRAVERSE

When is the best time for this trek?

IThe ideal period to complete the traverse is from July to mid-August: during these weeks, roads and mountain huts are open, mountain passes are mostly clear of snow, temperatures are relatively mild, daylight hours are at their longest, and the weather tends to be more stable.

It’s still possible to set off in June or between late August and September, but these are more “borderline” months.
In June, temperatures are colder, some areas of the Highlands may still be snow-covered or impassable, and the opening of huts and tracks isn’t always guaranteed.
By late August and September, the days shorten quickly, some huts start closing, and rainfall — along with the risk of early snowfalls — becomes more frequent.

what kind temperature should i expect?

When trekking in Iceland’s Highlands, forget the idea of “summer” as we know it at home.
Even in the best months — July and August — daytime temperatures along the route usually range between 5 and 12 °C, while at night they can easily drop close to freezing.

In June and September, things get even colder: it’s not uncommon to experience daytime temperatures between 0 and 7 °C, and below zero at night.
At higher altitudes, or when the wind picks up (which is almost always), the wind chill can make it feel much colder.

That said, variability is the only real constant: within just a few hours, you can go from pleasantly warm sunshine to freezing wind, rain, or even snow.
That’s why it’s crucial to be prepared for winter conditions — even in the heart of summer.

what kind of weather should i expect?

Weather in Iceland is unpredictable — and even more so in the Highlands.
During the traverse, you might experience all four seasons in a single day: sun, wind, rain, and even snow — yes, in the middle of summer.

Wind is your most constant companion: strong and biting, it can lower the perceived temperature by several degrees.
Rain is frequent, often sudden, and sometimes comes with low clouds that reduce visibility.
At higher elevations, you might encounter snow and ice even in July, especially above 900–1000 meters.

During the best months (July and early August), conditions tend to be a bit more stable — but still variable.
In June and September, the chances of snowfall increase, daylight hours shorten, and some sections can become impassable.

In short: be ready for anything — from sun that warms your skin to full-blown winter storms.
The only certainty is uncertainty — and that’s exactly what makes the Icelandic adventure so unique.

Will I see the Northern Lights?

During the summer months, unfortunately, it’s very unlikely.
The traverse takes place during the midnight sun period or when the days are extremely long, and the sky remains too bright to see the aurora borealis.
Even though auroras are active all year, darkness is needed to see them — and between June and August, Iceland simply doesn’t get dark enough.

If seeing the Northern Lights is your dream, you’ll need to return to Iceland between late September and April, when the nights are long and dark again.
During that period, however, the Highlands are inaccessible and covered in snow, so you’ll have to look for auroras along the coasts or in areas reachable in winter.

What will I see during the trek?

Get ready for a journey through some of the most extraordinary and ever-changing landscapes on the planet.
Starting from Akureyri and heading south, you’ll cross scenery that feels like traveling through different worlds:

• Black sands and volcanic deserts, vast and silent, broken only by the wind and the glow of distant mountains.
• Lava fields and solidified flows, blanketed by soft, bright-green moss.
• The colorful mountains of Landmannalaugar, with shades of red, yellow, and ochre that look hand-painted.
• Fumaroles and hot springs bubbling from the heart of the earth — a reminder that nature here is alive and powerful.
• Massive glaciers like Eyjafjallajökull and Mýrdalsjökull, framing lush green valleys.
• Deep canyons and roaring waterfalls, including those that mark your arrival in Skógar, the final destination of the traverse.

The beauty of this journey lies in its constant surprise: each day the landscape changes dramatically, and it truly feels like traveling across multiple continents in a single adventure.

Introduction

We’ve finally reached the section I’m sure many were waiting for: how did we actually cross the rivers? What did we face out there?

Let’s make one thing clear right away — when we talk about river crossings on foot, we’re not talking about massive rivers, but rather glacial streams or small rivers close to their source. Most of these are glacial rivers, fed by the melting ice from nearby glaciers. This means their flow changes throughout the day and depends heavily on the weather: early in the morning the level is lower, while in the afternoon, as the ice melts, the water rises and the current grows stronger. Rain also plays a huge role — prolonged rainfall can quickly swell even minor rivers, especially those draining large areas. In some cases, fords can become completely impassable, with strong currents and rocks carried by the flow.

That’s why it’s essential to check the weather forecast daily, plan a few extra buffer days, and — if in doubt — have the patience to wait for better conditions. And if you’re uncertain about a crossing, the most practical solution is to wait for a 4×4 vehicle to pass and simply ask for a lift to the other side.

Information along the route

During the first three days of our traverse, we never had to cross an actual river — just a small stream before entering the Highlands. Starting from Laugafell Hut, however, we began asking for updates: the warden there informed us about the crossings we’d encounter until Nýidalur, where we could get fresh information for the next stages.

It’s worth remembering this simple routine: the main river crossings in the Highlands are found between stages four and seven, and again between stages ten and thirteen. Hut wardens are always well informed about their current conditions. Once you reach Landmannalaugar (around day ten), you join the Laugavegur Trail, Iceland’s most famous trek. From there, the path is well-travelled, and every stage has a campsite or hut — it’s easy to get updates on the next day’s conditions.

Choosing the right spot

A ford, simply put, is a river too wide to hop across — one that requires you to wade in. The spot marked on the trail isn’t always the best one; often it’s chosen for 4×4 vehicles, not for hikers. It’s worth scouting a little up or downstream (without wandering too far) to find a better spot.

The best crossing point is usually where the river is widest — it tends to be shallower and the current weaker there. If the water is clear, look for exposed rocks that may mark shallower sections. If it’s murky, trekking poles are invaluable to probe the bottom and find solid footing.

Preparation and gear

Before stepping in, always loosen your backpack straps: unbuckle the hip belt and slacken the shoulder straps, so you can drop the pack quickly if you fall and avoid being dragged down.

As for footwear — never cross barefoot. Glacial water is often below 5°C (41°F), and you’ll lose feeling in your feet within seconds. The riverbed may also hide sharp or slippery rocks. The best option is trekking sandals or aqua shoes. Your feet already take enough punishment from the cold and long hiking days — don’t add unnecessary risk by wading unprotected with a heavy pack on your back.

Crossing technique

When crossing, face upstream — toward the current. Don’t aim straight across; instead, move diagonally downstream. This way you work with the current, not against it, reducing effort.

Trekking poles help a lot, both to test the ground and to keep balance. If you’re in a group, cross together, side by side, linking arms or holding each other’s shoulders. In pairs, one can hold onto the other while each uses a pole on their outer side.

Golden rule: never cross if the current is too strong or the water rises above mid-thigh. In those cases, wait or turn back — it’s not worth the risk.

our experience

For the first few days, we only faced minor streams. The real test came on day five. At Laugafell, the hut warden warned us about two crossings ahead:

• the first, early in stage four, was wide but shallow — nothing too challenging;
• the second, just before Nýidalur, could be trickier — a glacial stream, narrow but powerful, reaching just above knee level.

She advised us to be cautious and, if necessary, wait for a 4×4 to help.

That’s exactly what we found: a strong current, icy water, just above the knees. For smaller crossings we’d just switch shoes — I used aqua shoes, while my partner wore trekking sandals. Mine dried quickly; his stayed wet but proved surprisingly comfortable afterwards (he even used them around Reykjavík once the trek was over). For the tougher crossing, we took off our trousers and waded through in underwear, under the rain, to avoid hiking soaked for the rest of the day. A small towel to dry our feet afterwards turned out to be a blessing — but I’ll talk more about that in the gear section.

Once we reached Nýidalur, the warden reassured us: the hardest crossings were behind us. From there to Landmannalaugar, only smaller rivers remained — easy to wade, nothing serious.

Things changed again on the Laugavegur Trail. Here, the road becomes a narrow path, the desert turns into mountains, and you get close to glaciers again. The rivers are one thing — but the weather becomes the real challenge.

While we were in Landmannalaugar, Hurricane Erin hit southern Iceland with heavy rain and fierce winds. Rangers forbade anyone from continuing; the narrow valleys of the Laugavegur acted like wind tunnels, making it far too dangerous to proceed.

We were forced to wait several days at the campsite, our tent shaken by violent gusts. But the weather never improved, and with our flight home approaching, we had no choice but to end our traverse there.

A disappointment, yes — but also an important lesson: in Iceland, you can prepare carefully and cross rivers safely, but in the end, nature always has the final word.

How often can you find water?

Even though you’ll be trekking for several days through desert-like and volcanic landscapes, water in Iceland is rarely scarce: rivers, streams, and lakes accompany much of the route. That said, it’s crucial to know where to refill, because some sections are long and completely dry.

• From Akureyri to the desert: in the first days, water is not an issue — you’re practically always walking alongside a river. On stage three, the morning hike takes you along a green valley with a pleasant stream. But once you reach the desert plateau, be careful: from there to the day’s campsite (by a lake), there are no water sources. It’s wise to fill your bottles before leaving the valley.
• Day four: water is available at Laugafell Hut, with a few small streams along the way to the next hut, located near a river.
• Day five: morning refill is essential. Midway, there’s a lake near the F26 track, then nothing until a few kilometers from Nýidalur Hut (where you also tackle a major ford) and finally at the hut itself.
• Days six and seven: no particular difficulty, thanks to the many streams and small fords along the route.
• Day eight: refill at the small lake by the bridge over the gorge, because from there to Þórisvatn Lake, the day’s stop, there are no other sources along the trail.
• Day nine: fill up at Þórisvatn Lake in the morning, as there will be no water directly on the path until evening. There are lakes and rivers nearby, but reaching them would require detours and lost time.
• Day ten: water is available only at the hut and Frostastaðavatn Lake, but since this is a short stage, it’s not a problem.
• From day ten onward (Laugavegur Trail): water availability is generally easy, thanks to huts and glaciers. The only slightly dry section is between Landmannalaugar and Hrafntinnusker, but it’s short and manageable if you start with full bottles.

In general, water is almost always accessible, but there are a couple of critical days where planning ahead is essential to avoid running out in the heart of the desert.

how much water did we carry?

For safety and convenience, we each carried about 4 liters of water, split across two 1-liter bottles and one 2-liter bottle. The idea was to be prepared for an entire day without refills, especially in the driest desert sections. Water wasn’t just for drinking — we also needed it for cooking: lunch and dinner consisted of freeze-dried meals requiring roughly 350–380 ml each, about 1 liter per meal for the two of us.

In practice, our estimate was slightly generous, but having extra proved reassuring: on the driest days, we always reached the next source with roughly 1 liter to spare. The cool temperatures also helped reduce our daily water needs. In hindsight, 3 liters each would have sufficed, lightening our packs slightly, but the peace of mind from the extra liter was worth the extra weight.

How we treated the water

During the traverse, we relied exclusively on untreated sources, which carry the risk of bacteria or viruses. In many parts of the Highlands, stream water is considered drinkable at the source, but that’s not always true — heavy rain, passing herds, or proximity to volcanic/geothermal areas can compromise its quality.

We chose a double precaution: using both a filter and chlorine tablets. The filter removed sediment, turbidity, protozoa, and bacteria — usually enough for most Icelandic water — but to be thorough, we also added chlorine tablets, effective against viruses the filter cannot catch. Our routine was simple: filter first, then let the water rest for about 30 minutes after adding the tablets. It was probably overcautious, but better to taste a slight hint of chlorine for two weeks than risk intestinal issues in such a remote environment.

How we charged our phones

Even though we used our phones sparingly, between photos, videos, occasional calls, and an evening half-hour checking maps or sending messages, batteries drained quickly. Over two weeks, this became a serious issue.

We each adopted different strategies: my partner carried two power banks and a 30W portable solar panel strapped to his backpack. I relied only on four power banks, less trusting of Icelandic weather.

A few practical notes about flying with power banks:

• Under 100 Wh: carry as many as you like.
• 100–160 Wh: airline approval required.
• Over 160 Wh: prohibited.

Our devices were all around 98–99 Wh. If the Wh rating isn’t clear, calculate it by multiplying mAh by voltage (usually 3.7V) and dividing by 1000. For travelers, I recommend 26,800 mAh models — close to the limit but offering excellent capacity.

For the first ten days, the weather was favorable, and the solar panel recharged a good portion of our usage while hiking. Problems arose during our forced stop at Landmannalaugar, when bad weather rendered the panel almost useless. My partner had to rely on his reserves, finishing the trek with almost empty batteries. Thanks to my four power banks, I completed the traverse comfortably, with enough charge for another 16–17 days of moderate use. The only downside? Weight — the four units together exceeded 1.5 kg (3.3 lbs), which is significant in a backpack.