There is a special tranquility where the land meets the ocean.
Places where the wind blows louder, the waves move without accountability, and people take a deep breath…
In Reykjavík, for me, this place is Grotta!!
As you walk towards the small peninsula at the western end of Seltjarnarnes, you feel the city slowly fade away behind you. The sound of houses ceases, the roads turn to gravel, and suddenly you find yourself in a world shaped only by the tides, the birds, and time.
The first thing that catches your eye is the Grótta Lighthouse, standing like a calm sentinel before the boundless Atlantic.
This is not just a lighthouse. It is a silent reminder that Reykjavík is still a port city despite all its modernity.
The lighthouse you see today was built in 1947, replacing the old one from 1897.
For generations, it has guided fishermen, cargo ships, and travelers returning home from long, dark winters.
Standing opposite the lighthouse, it’s not hard to imagine how vital this light was on stormy nights. In the days before weather forecasts on phones, when a single navigational error could drive a ship onto the rocks…
What makes Grotta special is that it is actually an island… but only sometimes. When the tide is out, you can walk to the lighthouse. When the tide rises, the sea quietly reclaims the island, and it becomes isolated once again.
Visitors who ignore the tide sometimes find themselves stranded on the island.
Grótta is a protected area that is home to hundreds of seabirds. The area is closed during the summer months as it enters its breeding season.
Lighthouses always come with stories. Some are true, some are legends, but standing on the rocks, they all seem possible.
One story tells of a fisherman who, on a stormy night when he couldn’t tell the sky from the sea, was saved by the light of the lighthouse. Another story recounts the days when the old keeper lived in the lighthouse house with his family; in winter, the waves would rise so high that the walkway would disappear completely, and the family would be cut off from the outside world for days.
Today’s stories are more modern. Those who come wrapped in blankets to watch the northern lights, those who bring hot coffee in a thermos, those who wait for the sky to be a little more generous that night…
And unforgettable sunsets… If you come at the right time, the entire peninsula turns golden. The lighthouse casts a long shadow, the birds retreat to their roosts for the night, and Reykjavík behind you transforms into a soft silhouette.
Once you’ve been there, you can’t help but think.
“I’ll come back tomorrow… maybe one more time.”
