Where Iceland Ends: 8 Days Sailing & Hiking in Hornstrandir Nature Reserve

Most people who know and love Iceland have never heard of Hornstrandir Nature Reserve. Well… That’s about to change.

Tucked away in the northernmost tip of Iceland’s Westfjords, Hornstrandir Nature Reserve sits at the edge of the map in every sense of the word. There are no roads to access this region, no infrastructure of any kind for that matter. The last families who lived here packed up and left in the 1950s, and the land has slowly been returning to its original, untouched state ever since. The Arctic foxes that roam its plateaus have never learned to fear humans, because this place is so rarely visited.

The only way in and out of Hornstrandir is by boat. The only way through it is on foot. And when you combine those two modes of transportation into a hiking and sailing expedition, the result is an epic 8-days of hiking in Hornstrandir Nature Reserve and experiencing some of the most extraordinary hikes in Iceland you’ve likely never heard of.

We met the group at Amarok’s Basecamp in Reykjavík at 10AM for the full trip briefing. As we sipped on our coffees, we went over the itinerary, gear, expectations, and had a frank conversation about what everyone could expect over the next eight days before we packed our belongings and set for the Reykjavík domestic airport.

After a short domestic flight to Ísafjörður, you feel like you’ve landed in a totally different Iceland from the south. It’s quiet here. Things happen at a much slower pace, and the well-worn tourist circuit is nowhere to be seen. The snowcapped mountains plummet straight down to the ocean to meet the small, unhurried town. Anchored just off in the bay was the sailboat Byr, our home kitchen, and base of operations for the next 8 days.

Photo by our guest John Burkholder

Our captain Siggi and first mate Annukka picked us up by zodiac and ferried us and our bags out to Byr. Byr is a highly seaworthy ship designed specifically for Arctic expeditions. Built in the Netherlands in 1993, she’s a 25-metre wooden ketch with a deep red hull, full canvas sails. Below deck, twelve bunks spread across four cabins, a warm saloon with photos of previous expeditions, a large library full of exploration books, and a galley where the crew would keep us very well fed for the next eight days. 

While the crew prepared our first dinner aboard, the rest of the group and guides went back ashore and wandered to the local brewery, Dokkan Brugghús, to let the new pace of the Westfjords settle in. That evening back aboard Byr, the crew served fish soup onboard, and as the midnight sun held its position strong in the sky. Over slurps of soup and a belly full of craft beers, we cast off and began sailing our way toward Hornstrandir.

Most of the group drifted off to sleep before we reached the Hornstrandir peninsula. When we finally arrived around 11:30PM, we dropped anchor in calm waters, and the rest of the crew set off for bed.

Our guests woke to the breathtaking scenery of the Westfjords outside their portholes. 
The fjords here are steep and narrow, with walls of rock and snow that drop almost vertically into the sea. The beaches are coarse gravel and black volcanic sand, no soft white tropical sand in places like this. Waking up on a wooden boat anchored in the middle of it, the silence broken only by the occasional cry of a seabird, took a moment to fully process just how far away from the rest of the world we were.

After breakfast, we set off for our first hike through Hornstrandir’s trails into Strandahlíð, a remote historic slope and former settlement site in Lónafjörður, renowned for its isolation and natural drama. The trail climbed past waterfalls and through open terrain until we hit the snowline, where patches left over from winter required careful traversing. Above us the cliffs were stunning and vertical. Below, the fjord held perfectly still.

After lunch we dropped back down to the bay to follow the coastline, when the first Arctic fox of  our trip appeared. Hornstrandir is one of the most important, protected Arctic fox habitats in Iceland. They have no reason to fear people here, and it shows. It stopped to look at us for a brief moment, then went back about its business scouring the shoreline for food, completely unbothered by our presence. 

Back aboard Byr that evening, captain Siggi and Annukka served us dinner they had foraged and collected themselves: fresh fish with Stoemp, and boiled guillemot eggs with roseroot and garden angelica leaves. You couldn’t find this kind of meal on a restaurant menu, not even in Iceland. It was the perfect introduction to Hornstrandir.

We sailed from Lónafjörður in the morning and made for Hesteyri, a small abandoned fishing village that was once the staging site of a Norwegian whaling station. From the water, it looks like a handful of tiny coloured buildings set against an enormous mountain. You barely register that it’s a settlement, because it barely is one.

The day’s hike took us first to the old whaling station and then up and around Kagrafell mountain. The terrain was tricky and kept shifting underfoot with the soft, mushy tundra in the lower sections, thick snow higher up, and our first river crossing of the trip thrown in for good measure. We even threw on our microspikes and one guide stayed ahead of the group at all times to scout safe lines through the icy sections.

After rounding Kagrafell, we joined an old horse trail that once connected Hesteyri to other settlements across the reserve. Walking this section, you really get a sense of how hard people worked just to move through this landscape, and why they eventually stopped.

Back in the village of Hesteyri, we ducked into the Old Doctor’s House for pancakes. When we were enjoying our snack, the owner pulled out a Langspil, one of Iceland’s oldest traditional instruments, and played us a short concert. In an abandoned village at the edge of the Arctic, after a full day in the mountains, it was the last thing anyone expected and exactly what made the whole experience so memorable.

When we finally returned to Byr that evening, we feasted on leg of lamb, slow cooked by the crew while we were out exploring, the smell hitting us the moment we climbed back aboard. It was the perfect meal to accompany a long day of hiking.

Today was a point-to-point traverse from Hesteyri to Aðalvík, one of the longer days on the hiking itinerary. We started on the coastal trail in brilliant sunshine with easy walking, big views, the bright blue ocean never far from sight.
By afternoon the terrain shifted into the mountains, the trail climbing steadily before the long descent toward Aðalvík beach where the zodiac was waiting to bring us back to Byr.

Upon return to Byr, one member of the group decided this was the perfect time for an Arctic swim! Braving the icy cold waters, they jumped off the boat, climbing back aboard grinning ear to ear with that notable look like this wasn’t the last time they’d partake in a polar plunge on this trip.

We eventually pulled anchor and motored our way toward Látravík, where we’d stay for the night.

We sailed from Látravík to Hlöðuvík in the morning, where we were dropped off near the Hlöðuvík huts to begin our first climb of the day toward Skálakambur mountain pass. Skálakambur is renowned for its absolutely breathtaking vertical cliffs. The trails we were aiming to cover today would demand our full attention, with the reward of extraordinary views in return.

From Skálakambur, we pushed on toward Atlaskarð mountain pass through open snow traverses and some of the most stunning scenery of the entire trip. This day was Hornstrandir hiking at its finest with wide open landscapes that plugged deep into the ocean below, with crashing waves, seabirds, and blue skies sprawling across the horizon.

The descent from Atlaskarð brought us down to Rekavík bay, where first mate Annukka rejoined the group for an exploration of Langikambur, a spectacular freestanding volcanic dike rising straight out of the Hornstrandir cliffs and absolutely packed with birdlife. We saw guillemots, fulmars, seagulls, kittiwakes, thousands of them stacked into the rock face in various layers. The trail out to Langikambur is narrow, exposed, and seriously vertical. It’s an absolute must-visit for anyone hiking in Hornstrandir, but make sure you’re mentally prepared for the exposure.

We woke up in Hornvík bay to another day of perfect weather. After watching the Hornbjarg cliffs disappear into thick clouds the night before, nobody quite believed it!

We left Byr at around 9:15 AM and set off toward the northernmost tip of the Horn. On the way, a curious Hornstrandir Arctic fox appeared out of nowhere and walked straight toward us, which took us off guard. Before we began our ascent to the Hornbjarg cliffs, Albert found a sperm whale tooth on the beach. It was a very eventful morning, and the day had barely begun!

The trail climbed steadily up to the highest point of the plateau, where the Hornbjarg cliffs finally revealed themselves in full. The photographs we captured could not do this view justice. The section is the pinnacle of hiking in Hornstrandir, At their highest point, these cliffs reach 534 metres of sheer, undulating walls of rock that slope steeply inland before dropping straight into the Arctic Ocean far below. Thousands of seabirds wheel and cry along the rocky edges. Standing at the top, looking down at the ocean that far below, you feel like you’re truly at the edge of the world.

We found a flat spot on the plateau with the full sweep of the Hornbjarg cliffs in front of us, unpacked our lunches, and didn’t say much for a while. Some views in Iceland will do that to you.

After lunch we pushed further into the plateaus behind the Hornbjarg cliffs, into terrain that sees very few visitors even by Hornstrandir’s already remote standards. This is a part of the Hornstrandir Nature Reserve that doesn’t make it onto most hiking itineraries. We crossed paths with the area’s ranger, one of the few people who knows this landscape as well as the wildlife do. And then we found a trio of Arctic foxes yelping at each other and roaming the plateau like they owned the place. With no natural predators and very little human interactions in Hornstrandir, they basically do.

At the natural turning point, we asked whether we should continue down to the Hornbjargsviti lighthouse or make our way back to Byr like we had originally planned. It would make an already long day significantly longer, but everyone was in such great spirits from the good weather and stunning views of the Hornbjarg cliffs, everyone said yes.

The descent to the lighthouse took us through waterfalls, sea stacks, and cliff faces that drop straight into the Arctic Ocean. We stopped to say hello to the wardens before climbing back up and over Kýrskarð mountain pass. The descent on the other side brought us down through driftwood, massive freestanding rocks, and a final waterfall to where the zodiac was waiting.
We boarded at 8PM. Eleven hours on foot in one of the most remote places in Europe, and even though the day was long, not one person wanted it to end.

The last full day on the water is always bittersweet. You’re tired enough to be ready to head home, yet still full of awe that you don’t want the experience to end.

We sailed from Hornvík back across the bay, passing Langikambur from the ocean for the first time, the same freestanding volcanic dike we’d hiked along just two days before, now rising dramatically out of the water from a completely different perspective. From the sea, everything looks so much bigger. We sailed close to Súlnastapi, a giant solitary rock that erupts straight out of the ocean and serves as home to thousands of guillemots and kittiwakes, a fitting final encounter with the birdlife that had defined the week.

As we turned south and began following the coastline back toward Ísafjörður, we could trace every one of our routes from the water. The ridgelines we’d climbed, the passes we’d crossed, the cliffs we’d stood on the edge admiring the sights of the sea far below. We sat on the foredeck and recapped each day’s experience as we observed our hiking routes in full scale from the sea.

The guides made Arctic Char paella on deck, a traditional Icelandic ingredient for another gourmet meal. We ate together in the sun on the last stretch of open water.

Once we entered Ísafjarðardjúp, the vast fjord whose name translates to simply “Ice Fjord’s Deep”, the wind came in from exactly the right direction for us to raise the sails. The crew gathered around as Annuka gave us thorough instructions on handling the lines. Once we raised the sails, Siggi cut off the engine, and we sailed the full final stretch home on wind alone, which felt like the perfect way to end our hiking and sailing adventure.

That evening the full group sat down one last time at Tjöruhúsið, one of Ísafjörður’s most celebrated restaurants, and worked through an enormous fresh fish buffet, served to us straight from the pan.

Our last morning in Ísafjörður fell on June 17th, Iceland’s National Day. We started the day the only way that felt right after spending a week hiking in Iceland’s remote wilderness: on foot! We did a short hike up to a viewpoint overlooking the town, then along a small forested trail before returning to Byr. The town wasn’t fully awake yet, so we moved through it in relative quiet before the day’s festivities began.

Back at Byr, we said our goodbyes to Siggi, Annukka, and the crew before driving to the airport for the short flight back to Reykjavík.

We said our farewells to the rest of the hiking group at the domestic terminal. Faces that had been total strangers eight days ago now carried the warmth of people we felt we’d known for years.

For those who stuck around Reykjavík that night, the city was alive and celebrating. A fitting end to our Iceland adventure, hiking in Hornstrandir.

Hiking in Hornstrandir requires more logistical preparation than most Iceland trips. Here is what you need to know before you book.

The reserve is only accessible during summer, typically late June through August, when the snowpack has receded enough to make the mountain passes safe, and the ferry and expedition operators are running. The trip we described above ran in mid-June, which meant long days under the midnight sun and some residual snow on the higher traverses.

Hornstrandir is a protected nature reserve. There is no entry fee, but visitors are required to follow strict Leave No Trace guidelines, and camping in sensitive areas may require coordination with rangers. The reserve is accessible only by boat, either via scheduled ferry from Ísafjörður or aboard a dedicated expedition vessel like Byr.

Amarok Adventures operates the sailing and hiking itinerary described here. We hold the relevant certifications for Arctic expedition travel and limit group sizes to ensure safety and minimal environmental impact. Booking is recommended well in advance as departures fill quickly. Visit amarok.is for current schedules and pricing.

This is a serious hiking itinerary. Daily distances range from approximately 12 to 20 kilometres with significant elevation gain. Day 6 on our 2026 Hornstrandir hiking and sailing expedition alone covers eleven hours on foot across high plateau terrain. Guests should be comfortable with sustained mountain hiking, river crossings, and exposed cliff-edge trails. Microspikes are recommended even in summer.

Waterproof layers, trekking poles, microspikes, and sturdy waterproof boots are non-negotiable. Weather in the Westfjords changes rapidly.

Interested in hiking in Hornstrandir? Get in touch with Amarok Adventures to learn about upcoming expeditions.