Fantasy Island

Remote northern Iceland is a land of volcanoes, fjords, glaciers, and jagged cliffs—and the kind of raw, adventurous skiing that most of us can only dream of. Join one writer for a magical expedition to one of last bastions of undisturbed arctic wonder.

- McKenna Peterson

What does it feel like to ski on the edge of the world?

Exponentially enticing. The closer you get, the closer you want to be. It is where curiosity leaves you short of breath and full of life. If there is a definitive line humans may not cross, it is here. An extra step, a delayed edge release, a slip of a foot would deliver you to a mile of thin air and the curling North Atlantic. Or would it? Peering over the edge is eerily comforting—maybe I would sprout wings and glide away. A revisitation of a childhood fantasy, perhaps?

If Svalbard is likened to the North Pole and Antarctica is the last frontier, Iceland’s far northwest coastline is most definitely the proverbial edge of the world. The Hornbjarg cliffs in the Hornstrandir Nature Reserve jut straight from the ocean like fingers reaching out to keep the island from blowing away.

When first asked to join this ski expedition, I gave it a grave 40 percent chance of success. Googling Hornbjarg produced incredible images of tourists lying on deep green grass, stomach down, peering over the edges of ginormous cliffs. A stunning landscape. Zero photos of snow. Has anyone been there in winter? Do these mountains even hold snow?