Ice Caves and Glacier Hikes: The Ultimate Adventure Guide to Hofn, Iceland

Nestled between the imposing Vatnajökull glacier and the dramatic Atlantic coastline, Höfn (pronounced like 'hup' with a slight n) offers a perfect base for glacier adventures without sacrificing comfort. After years of exploring luxury accommodations worldwide, I've developed a particular appreciation for properties that honor their surroundings, and Fosshotel Glacier Lagoon exemplifies this philosophy beautifully.

The hotel's minimalist Scandinavian design features floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the surrounding mountains like living artwork. After each day's adventure, I found myself unwinding in their geothermal hot tub, watching the Northern Lights dance across the sky while sipping hot chocolate spiked with Brennivín (Iceland's signature spirit).

For dining, Pakkhús Restaurant in town serves the freshest langoustine (Höfn's specialty) in a converted warehouse overlooking the harbor. The contrast between the rugged landscape outside and the refined dining experience within perfectly encapsulates Iceland's unique approach to luxury—one that celebrates rather than conquers its wild surroundings.

Of all my travels across 27 countries, few experiences have left me as speechless as entering Vatnajökull's natural ice caves. These ephemeral wonders—formed anew each winter as meltwater carves passages through the glacier—offer a glimpse into what feels like another planet.

I booked a private tour with local guides who have spent decades studying the glacier's movements. While group tours are available, the private experience allowed me to linger in the caves, capturing photographs of the surreal blue light filtering through centuries-old ice without other tourists in frame. My guide Gunnar explained how each bubble trapped in the ice was ancient air, preserved from a time before human industrialization.

The journey to the caves requires specialized transportation. Our super jeep navigated terrain I wouldn't have believed passable, equipped with glacier tires that seemed to grip the impossible. For the adventure, I wore my heated gloves which proved invaluable for maintaining dexterity for photography in the sub-zero temperatures of the caves.

Inside, the translucent blue walls seemed to pulse with an inner light—a phenomenon created by the compression of ice that eliminates air bubbles and absorbs all colors of the light spectrum except blue. The experience connects you to geological time in a way few other natural wonders can.

Growing up in Kyoto, where history is measured in centuries, Iceland's glaciers offered a humbling perspective—here, time is measured in millennia. Skaftafellsjökull, an accessible outlet glacier of the massive Vatnajökull ice cap, provides one of the most rewarding hiking experiences in Iceland, particularly for those willing to venture beyond the typical tourist routes.

After being fitted with crampons and safety equipment at the Skaftafell Visitor Center, our small group began the ascent onto the glacier with our guide Ásta, a glaciologist who shared insights about the accelerating retreat of Iceland's ice caps. The specialized equipment transformed what would be impossible terrain into an accessible adventure—though one that still demanded respect and careful attention.

The glacier's surface resembles an alien landscape: deep crevasses of electric blue, volcanic ash layers that tell stories of eruptions centuries past, and meltwater streams carving ever-changing pathways through the ice. I was particularly fascinated by the glacier tables—large rocks that protect the ice beneath them, creating pedestals that rise higher as surrounding ice melts.

For this technical hike, my merino base layers proved essential, regulating body temperature despite the exertion and freezing ambient conditions. What struck me most was the glacier's soundtrack—a symphony of cracking, dripping, and occasional deep rumbles that reminded us of the living, moving nature of what appeared solid beneath our feet.

Just a short drive from Höfn lies what many consider Iceland's most photogenic location: Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon and the adjacent Diamond Beach. Here, massive icebergs calved from Breiðamerkurjökull glacier drift slowly through the lagoon before reaching the Atlantic, where wave action polishes them into crystalline sculptures that wash ashore on black sand.

I visited at both sunrise and sunset, when the low arctic winter sun bathes the ice in golden light. For the ultimate perspective, I booked a zodiac boat tour that navigated between towering icebergs—some larger than houses—providing intimate views impossible from shore. The boat captain shared that each iceberg contains ice up to 1,000 years old, and you can actually hear the ancient air bubbles popping as they melt.

Photography here presents unique challenges and rewards. My lens warming pouch prevented condensation when moving between the heated car and the frigid outdoors, a trick I learned from a National Geographic photographer I met in New Zealand. For time-lapse sequences of the moving ice, my remote timer allowed me to capture the subtle movements while keeping my hands warm inside the car.

Diamond Beach, just across the road from the lagoon, offers perhaps the most striking juxtaposition in all of Iceland—crystalline ice fragments scattered across black volcanic sand like diamonds on velvet. The scene changes hourly as new ice washes ashore and existing pieces melt or get carried back to sea.

While glaciers may be the headline attraction around Höfn, the region's cultural offerings provide perfect counterpoints to days spent in the ice and cold. The Þórbergssetur museum in nearby Hali offers fascinating insights into Icelandic literature and rural life through the works of author Þórbergur Þórðarson. The building itself—designed to resemble a stack of books—reflects the Japanese concept of shakkei or borrowed scenery, with windows perfectly framing the glacier views beyond.

After growing up in a family involved in ryokan management, I've developed a deep appreciation for hospitality that honors local traditions. Nowhere is this more evident than at Hali Country Hotel's restaurant, where the Arctic char is caught from the property's own waters and served with foraged herbs that somehow thrive in this harsh climate.

For a truly unique experience, I visited a local farm that produces hand-knit items from the wool of Icelandic sheep—a breed unchanged since Viking settlement. The farmer explained how the dual-layer wool (with water-resistant outer fibers and insulating inner fibers) evolved specifically for Iceland's climate. I couldn't resist purchasing a traditionally-patterned Icelandic wool sweater that has since become my favorite winter travel companion.

Don't miss the opportunity to sample Höfn's famous langoustine (often called Iceland's lobster). The sweet, delicate meat rivals any luxury seafood I've had worldwide, and pairs beautifully with the surprisingly excellent local craft beers from Jón Ríki microbrewery.