Leave the crowds. Enter Iceland’s wild winter and explore Landmannalaugar during the winter.
The city lights fade behind you as the super jeep growls out of Reykjavík, heading toward the mountains. It’s early, still dark, and the cold bites through your gloves. Steam drifts from the harbor as the last signs of civilization disappear in the rearview mirror. Ahead lies nothing but snow, wind, and the promise of silence.
Your guide gives you a grin, the kind that says this is going to be good.
The tires crunch over ice, climbing deeper into Iceland’s highlands. Soon the road becomes a suggestion, marked only by the faint trace of old tracks and the wild terrain ahead. The jeep sways through drifts and frozen rivers, sometimes slowing to crawl, sometimes charging forward like it has something to prove. Every kilometer takes you further from everything familiar. By the time the mountains of Landmannalaugar rise in front of you, you’ve already forgotten what comfort feels like, and it feels good.
The silence of snow
You step out into a world that’s entirely white. Steam curls out of the ground where the earth is still breathing, and the snow stretches endlessly in every direction. The only sound is your own breath.
Snowshoes on, you start moving. The air is crisp, clean, and almost heavy with quiet. Every few steps, the wind lifts the snow off the ground, blurring the world into pure white. Your guide leads the way, reading the land like a story, checking snow layers, testing the slope, keeping everyone safe.
There’s a strange kind of calm in not seeing too far ahead. In whiteouts, time bends. You focus on the rhythm of your steps, the pull of the snow under your feet, the hum of the wind. It’s not easy, but it’s honest.
When the weather turns rough, you adapt. Avalanche rescue practice. Route planning. Coffee by the hut’s small window while the storm howls outside. There’s always something to learn, something to do. And when the storm finally clears, the world opens up again: mountains, frozen valleys, and the faint hiss of geothermal vents breaking through the ice.
The hut & the hot springs
Evenings belong to the hot spring. You walk through the snow, steam already visible from afar, and slip into the warm water. It’s surreal: snowflakes landing on your skin while the heat from the earth rises beneath you. Sometimes the northern lights appear without warning, streaking across the sky in green and violet waves.
Everyone falls quiet for a moment. No one reaches for a camera. It’s enough just to be here.
The mountain hut is warm, simple, and alive with laughter. Wet socks hang over the stove, dinner simmers on the gas burner, and outside, the wind keeps its rhythm against the walls. Inside, your guide is busy cooking, the smell of something warm and familiar cutting through the cold. Dinner might be a rich stew or pasta cooked straight from the heart, eaten shoulder to shoulder around a wooden table that’s seen countless winter nights.
In the morning, there’s the soft crackle of the stove again. Hot coffee, oatmeal, pancakes…fuel for another day in the snow. Outside, the light is blue and still, the mountains wrapped in silence. This is the kind of comfort that feels earned, stripped of luxury and built from effort. Everything slows down here. You share food, warmth, and stories, and for a while, nothing else exists beyond the walls of the hut and the wild that waits outside.
Back to the world
Leaving Landmannalaugar feels strange. The drive back toward Reykjavík passes through endless snowfields and distant peaks fading into fog. Slowly, the roads return. The noise returns. Civilization returns.
But part of you stays behind, somewhere in that white silence, between the steam and the snow, where the world feels wild again.
From February to March, we return to Landmannalaugar for our 3- or 4-day winter expeditions. You can arrive the classic way, in a roaring super jeep, or take the fast route by helicopter across Iceland’s frozen highlands. Either way, you’ll end up in the same place — the heart of the wild.
This isn’t a tour. It’s an expedition. A reset button. A reminder that adventure still exists if you’re willing to look for it.
Getting there: two ways into the wild
How you reach Landmannalaugar already shapes the story of your adventure.
The super jeep access option is for those who like the road to fight back a little. You’ll ride in a heavily modified beast built to crush through snowdrifts, climb frozen hills, and cross icy rivers that would stop any normal vehicle cold. The drive takes hours, but every second is part of the experience. You watch the landscape grow wilder, the snow deeper, and by the time the hut comes into view, it feels like you’ve earned it.
The helicopter access is another kind of magic. One moment you’re standing on the tarmac in Reykjavík; the next, you’re soaring above volcanoes, glaciers, and steaming geothermal valleys. From the air, the highlands stretch endlessly below, a white desert punctuated by color and steam. The flight is short but unforgettable, ending with a landing right in the middle of this frozen wonderland. It’s fast, scenic, and completely surreal.
Whichever way you choose, the destination remains the same: a remote corner of Iceland that feels like another planet…a place where winter still rules and adventure feels pure again.
