Solo at the Arctic Circle

The ferry to Grímsey runs three times a week: out in the mornings, back in the afternoons, a three-hour crossing of the rough open Atlantic from Iceland’s jagged northern coast to this tiny green gem of an island perched precisely on the Arctic Circle.
Don’t take the ferry back the same day. Don’t be one of the tourists who dashes from the ferry to the monument marking the Arctic Circle, snaps a picture and dashes back.
Stay the night. Pitch a tent at the campground, which is a patch of lawn next to the school that doubles as a community center, a short walk down the main street of Grímsey’s tiny, only town.
The town – population under 100 – is a small restaurant, tiny shop and even tinier gas station: an Icelandic town pared down to its essentials. Stop in at the restaurant for the serve-your-own-soup and serve-your-own-coffee common to small-town cafés throughout the country. How often can you say you had coffee at the Arctic Circle?
Wander north, past the tiny airstrip, which most of the day simply provides local birds a convenient place to roost. Wander south, past puffins congregated on high, black basalt cliffs, to the lighthouse that perches, square and yellow, at the island’s tip. Don’t be alarmed at being dive bombed by arctic terns with a terrifying sense of purpose. They’re protecting their young, and their sense of what constitutes a true threat to their young is unfortunately not very refined.
Turn inland, to the island’s green interior. Though Grímsey is only two square miles, when you’re at its verdant heart, you’ll feel alone in all the world. A herd of free-grazing horses will sidle up to say hello; one will be particularly fascinated by your water bottle, and want to lick it.
In the evening, visit the local swimming pool, a low-slung building one grassy field apart from the rest of town. Sitting and chatting in hot tubs – jokingly referred to as Iceland’s favorite sport – is such an essential part of Icelandic culture, even this tiny island has its own public indoor pool: open for an hour and a half on Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, and Saturday mornings.
Now happily limp-limbed, return to your campsite and settle in. By midnight, the midsummer sun will have slipped just behind the horizon due north, leaving behind a riot of colors unsure whether to be sunset or sunrise or both at once. Fall asleep beneath the shocking pink sky of an Arctic sunrise.
Did you do all of that? Now you can take the ferry back from Grímsey.