The Frozen North

Eyjafjörður, the "Fjord of Islands"

Mar 29, 2024

In late February, I stayed in a cabin in Eyjafjörður, the "Fjord of Islands", across the water from Akureyri. I was back in Iceland, this time in the Frozen North with the dream of seeing purple sunrises, mountains painted white, arctic wildlife embracing the harsh climate, and watching the aurora dance across the night sky.

My first night in Iceland was a long journey from Keflavík to Akureyri that took over five hours. In the first hour, I said goodbye to the diminishing light and had a pit stop to buy the necessities from a supermarket before it closed. The rest of the journey was long roads of white, heavy snowfall, dark blue skies, and the flash of white wings at the side of the road (my heart tells me it was a Snowy Owl). I arrived at the frozen cabin after midnight, tired but excited to finally be back in Iceland.

I was awake at 8.00 am and realised in my tired state, I had forgotten to pull the black-out curtains across the tall windows that looked out into the fjord. Thank you, tired Rebecca, because the view was wonderful. White mountains, the delicate sound of wind coming down the fjord, and the most beautiful purple-painted sky. My anxiety has been cruel the last few months, knocking me down and taking over my body completely. But standing outside the cabin with my ice-cold feet in the snow and clutching a cup of tea, the anxiety vanished. My mind cleared and I could feel my bones finally take a deep breath. I should have worn more layers coming outside into -13 Celsius temperatures, but it didn't matter. I could deal with my cold feet later. And my numb chin.

The Earth and her beauty have a way of calming you down. In my snow-covered slippers watching the sunrise in this frozen landscape, I understood myself and felt my purpose in life. It's crazy, but it's true. As the sky changed from purple to light blue and the sun peeked over the mountain, I knew I was in the right place. I have so much creativity within me ready to be released from the prison I've made for it. I've spent the last few weeks resting and letting my creativity grow, guided by the Frozen North.

The Frozen North is a sanctuary to me. I know many people, including my Dad, think that's crazy. Why wouldn't I want to go to a warm country? Because you know me, Dad, you've known my whole life that I have been obsessed with the Arctic, snow, winter, and everything that comes with it. "I know, I know," he says.

This cabin in Eyjafjörður was a home. Each morning I opened the tall wide windows to watch the sunrise or the snowfall. And every evening, I would sit and watch the sky turn black or grey. One night, it was lightly snowing, and out I went in my slippers and hoodie and immediately started to record. "I can't be the only person to witness this," my brain said. There is a smell of snowfall. Almost like freshness and crispness. Like drinking fresh cold water. As if smelling snow hydrates you as it climbs through your nose.

The same evening my heart leaped as I saw a shuffling white ball move across the snow. "It couldn't be", I thought. A Ptarmigan in its white winter plumage waddled past the cabin with its adorable furred feet, making its way up the mountain as the snow fell. Back home in Scotland, these birds are rare. And usually, the only way to see one is up one of our many mountains in the Scottish Highlands. I had never seen one before, but now I have, just shuffling by a cabin in Iceland. Wildlife always surprises us.

There was snow daily in Eyjafjörður, sometimes heavy with thick grey clouds looming over the water and city, sometimes light and playful. The Seals loved the snowy days, climbing out of the ice to lounge and sleep.

Because of the snowfall, the Northern Lights could not break through the clouds. So I went days without seeing the lights and in the end, accepted that I wouldn't see them this time in Iceland. But after a few nights of snow, I was in Akureyri for food and shopping, and the skies were clear. "Please just hold on for a bit longer," my brain said. "Please, so I can see the aurora..."

An hour or two later, she was here. She danced behind the cabin, it looked as if her wings were spreading out from the mountains. You understand why Vikings celebrated the aurora and saw her as an earthly manifestation of their gods. My favourite story is about Vikings seeing the Northern Lights as reflections of Valkyries' armour as they led warriors to Odin.

As many of us are seeing the arrival of spring, winter has started her hibernation. But I will patiently wait for her sweet chilly return. Winter, for me, is not a time of rest. It's a time of creativity, excitement, and adventure. We have so little light to work with during our days, but that means we make use of the light so much more. I love winter, and I love my Frozen North. I will be waiting to feel her icy chill again soon enough.

The Frozen North

Eyjafjörður, the "Fjord of Islands"

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