After the death last year of Brendan Glacken, ROSS GLACKENand his siblings took their mother on a nostalgic journey back to Iceland
A YEAR AGO next week my father, the Irish Timesjournalist Brendan Glacken, passed away after a long battle with cancer. In his honour we decided to take a family holiday to Iceland last summer.
Reykjavik was where Bren and my mother, Trisha, had lived and married in their 20s. They had always wanted to show us children – Ruth, Nick and myself – the wonders and beauty of Iceland, along with its place in our family history.
After the better part of a day travelling from Dublin we sat outside a cafe on Laugavegur, the capital's main street, drinking cold Icelandic beer. Bren was chilling beside us in spirit, enjoying a cold gin and tonic, no doubt. " Skál," we said in toast.
After dinner at a quaint restaurant where we sat at the top of a steep, narrow staircase next to a guitarist, Trisha took us in search of the apartment she’d shared with Bren. It turned out be 10 minutes’ walk away.
They had lived on the top floor of a traditional house. Poignantly, we saw the little window they would throw a key out of to the person below and, on the other side, the window where they would watch the sun set on summer evenings.
Just around the corner was a lake, Trisha explained, that would freeze over in winter; friends and couples would spend their evenings on the ice. I recalled some teasing of Bren’s skating technique, or lack thereof, over family dinners in years gone by.
The next day, strolling around Reykjavik, we saw the towering Hallgrimur’s Lutheran church, Viking statues and old timber houses that blended perfectly with modern apartment blocks. The gorgeous shoreline, with mountains sitting far across the still green bay, was particularly beautiful.
On the way back to our aparthotel we stopped for one of the city’s famously delicious hot dogs, then relaxed in the hot tub before heading out for dinner and some wild Icelandic nightlife. The club we went to is best described as a cross between a rowdy Dublin bar, a fashion show and a west Cork regatta evening where people spill on to the streets with their drinks. The novelty of summer Reykjavik’s 24-hour daylight made it all the more memorable.
Somehow we all managed to get up at 7.30am the next day for a trip around the Golden Circle, a loop around southwest Iceland. We stopped off at a geothermal power plant; stood on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where the island is very gradually splitting as two tectonic plates move apart; looked down on the site at Thingvellir that for eight and a half centuries after 930 was home to the Icelandic parliament; visited the magnificent Gullfoss waterfall; and watched geysers boil and gush up in front of us.
Then we ventured on to the ocean to watch whales. Not long after being met by hundreds of puffins – which were much smaller than we had imagined – we spotted the first of what turned out to be many whales, mostly humpbacks and minkes. Some of them breached just 10m from our boat; seeing their tail fins disappear back beneath the surface as the creatures dived below was unforgettable.
Our next big trip was a 14-hour bus tour around the south of Iceland – “not suitable for softies” – which set off through rolling green hills mixed with jagged mountains, running alongside the dark- turquoise ocean. After driving past volcanoes – the ash that covered the ground as far as the eye could see was proof that they were still active – we rounded some mountains and suddenly felt as if we were on top of the world. Vatnajökull, one of the world’s largest glaciers – it covers almost 10 per cent of Iceland – appeared in all its glory: vast, powerful and violent yet all the while captivating and beautiful. We took a boat around Jökulsárlón, the glacial lagoon at its foot, meandering through icebergs and even holding blocks of ice more than 1,000 years old.
It was time to get more hands on, so we signed up to raft down the Hvítá glacial river. We’d negotiate violent rapids and pumping waves. No problem, I thought. Bren and I had conquered similar forces of nature on a trip to Wales. Trisha stayed back to unwind while Ruth, Nick and I took our lives in our hands.
After a 90-minute drive with our guides, a couple of hip, laid-back locals, we reached a log cabin where, to my surprise, we were joined by about 20 American “super adults” – the Icelandic term for pensioners – all of whom were there to live life to the max.
Twenty minutes later our cox was yelling, “Left side forward, right side backward, paddle!” as we careered along the river. Halfway through the descent we stopped for a break – and to jump off a cliff. Nick didn’t hesitate when the guide asked for volunteers. One giant leap and he was plummeting towards the water more quickly than we could shout “Legs together!” Nick really impressed the super adults on his next jump by somersaulting in.
After that we decided we deserved a relaxing day at the Blue Lagoon, a geothermal spa where you can lie in warm water surrounded by lava fields.Three-quarters of an hour after we arrived I realised that sharing a huge milky bath with people aged from one to 100, all “revitalising” their skin, was not an activity I enjoyed. My family laughed off my concerns as I went looking for Q-tips.
Ruth, Nick and I organised a picnic for Trisha at Reykjavik's botanic garden on our final morning. We toasted our trip, which had brought to life our parents' stories of living and marrying in Iceland, and thanked Trisha for taking us on the holiday of lifetime. It was wonderful to both visit memory lane and create new family history. We raised our mimosas. Skál, Bren. Skál, Iceland.
Where to stay and go in Rekyjavik
Where to stay
Room with a View. Laugarvegur 18, 00-354-8962559, roomwithaview.is. Very reasonably priced aparthotel on the capital’s main street.
Hotel Reykjavik Centrum. Aðalstræti 16, 00-354-5146000, hotelcentrum.is. Central hotel popular with tourists.
Radisson SAS 1919. Posthusstræti 2, 00-354- 5991000, radissonblu.com/ 1919hotel-reykjavik. Top-class accommodation.
Where to eat
Caruso. Þingholtsstræti 1, 00-354-5627335, caruso.is. Mediterranean food, great service. Main courses cost €16-€25.
Tapas Barinn. Vesturgötu 3b, 00-354-5512344, tapas.is. Menu includes whale, puffin and even kangaroo. Dishes cost €6-€12.
Hot-dog stands. Bill Clinton once claimed that Iceland’s hot dogs are the best in the world. You won’t be disappointed.
Where to go
Arctic Adventures. Laugavegur 11, 00-354- 5627000, adventures.is. One-stop shop for white-water rafting, ice climbing, snowmobiling and other adrenalin-packed adventures.
Join a free guided walk around Reykjavik. Just turn up outside the tourist office at Adalstræti 2 at 1pm each day. A local guide takes you on a two-hour historical and political walk through the city. Hugely enjoyable. The guides hope to impress you enough to earn a good tip.
Go there
Icelandair (icelandair.co.uk) flies to Reykjavik from Dublin via Britain. Iceland Express (icelandexpress.com) flies to Reykjavik from London Gatwick and Stansted, which are served from Ireland by Ryanair (ryanair.com) and Aer Lingus (aerlingus.com).
For more
The tourist information centre office on Adalstræti (visitreykjavik.is) is the best place to book tours and trips, as well as finding out about anything else you need. You should also get the best prices here.