Blue skies and sunshine would be nice, but when we land in Iceland at 7:30 a.m., cold rain, low-hanging clouds, and thick fog greet us. The soupy weather mirrors my foggy brain, still on East Coast time six hours earlier.

But my husband, Peter, and I only have two days to spend in Iceland, and we are determined to make the best of it—foul weather or not. I always wanted to visit this remote, volcanic island in the North Atlantic. Its name notwithstanding, Iceland isn’t a frozen wasteland, thanks to the Gulf Stream that flows along its southern and western shores.

It is, however, a land of opposites, where heat and cold, fire and snow somehow coexist side by side. Iceland’s lava-covered landscape, thermal-heated lagoons, hissing steam vents, and spouting geysers add up to a stunning natural playground that appeals to families seeking bold adventures.

Forlorn Beauty

Peter and I won’t have time to experience too many bold adventures or even see the whole island—about the size of Virginia—during our brief stay. Instead, we’ll content ourselves with exploring Reykjavik, Iceland’s capital city, and environs. Two activities are on the top of my list: a horseback ride on the famous Icelandic horses and a visit to Iceland’s Blue Lagoon, where hot thermal waters invite bathers for a sensuous swimming experience.

Since time is short, I schedule our trail ride soon after we arrive, knowing that it will be hard to get sleepy while sitting astride a horse. We drive our rental car to Ishestar, a tour company founded in 1982 whose name means ice horses, located about midway between the airport in Keflavik and Reykjavik. We signed up for a two-hour ride called the Lava Tour and join a group of international travelers at the riding center, where we don foul-weather gear and helmets, meet our horses, and saunter off into thick-as-pea-soup fog for a memorable ride.

Known for their small stature, Icelandic horses—please don’t call them ponies—are prized for their versatility, friendliness, and good-hearted nature. They’re also strong and sure footed….which is a good thing once you see Iceland’s harsh terrain. From a distance moss-covered meadows appear velvety and soft, but it’s another juxtaposition, for underneath the moss sharp lava rocks cover the land.

Our guide points out that not all of Iceland is this rocky. Other areas offer pastoral forests, rolling farmlands, soaring mountains, and Europe’s largest glacier. But as Peter and I ride along, all we can see is a land that looks forbidding and harsh. What prompted Norsemen to settle here in the ninth century, I wonder. Perhaps the settlers—like travelers today—were inspired by Iceland’s forlorn beauty and touched by the powerful forces that churn beneath the surface.

Back on the trail, I wonder if the weather will clear long enough for Peter and me to enjoy Iceland’s scenic landscape. As if in answer, raindrops pelt down, making us thankful for the bright-orange jumpsuits we wear that keep us dry and warm in this formidable climate. Our gear proves the Icelandic saying is absolutely true: There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.

Before the trail ride started, our guide told us about the five gaits Icelandic horses are known for: walking, trotting, cantering/galloping—and two unique gaits: tölt and flying pace. She encouraged us to try tölt, a smooth gait halfway between walking and trotting. I try and try to get my horse into tölt and find myself bouncing all over the saddle. Peter, on the other hand, achieves tölt with ease. During the break my guide gives me a couple hints: Try sitting back a bit and pull the horse’s head in. I try again and find the gait—yippee. On the back of my horse, I feel like I’m on skis, gliding on snow. It’s fantastic.

Suddenly, the weather doesn’t matter. Everything is all right and in balance. Who cares if the rain falls and the clouds blot out the scenery. I’m practically on top of the world, riding an Icelandic horse in tölt!

Our Inner Eskimo

After our ride, we head for the city center and check into the Radisson Blu 1919, one of a trendy chain of European-style hotels. Our room is spacious and zen-like with sleek Scandinavian furnishings and comfy, white-duvet-topped beds, which Peter and I view with longing. But time is marching on and so will we. Museums await—and streets to stroll and people to watch. Resting or napping—that’s for sissies!

In the misty rain, Peter and I head uphill to the National Museum, home to 300,000 artifacts, which tell the story of Iceland’s cultural heritage. The history of Iceland is displayed in chronological order, beginning with a ship like those that sailed to Iceland centuries ago and ending with an exhibit about the modern airport in Kevlavik, gateway to the outside world. Peter and I wander through the exhibits, feeling a bit jet-lagged. Later I learn that the museum offers an audio guide as well as tours, which I would recommend for visitors new to Icelandic culture.

Even though the rain is omnipresent, Peter and I enjoy strolling through Reykjavik, a cozy capital nestled up to a natural harbor, where fishing boats bob in the steel-gray Atlantic. Seafood is a huge industry in Iceland, and as Peter and I discover, Icelandic fish and seafood rate easily among the world’s best.

“That’s because standards are high,” our server says that evening as Peter and I dine on a feast of seafood and Icelandic cuisine at Fish Market, a popular restaurant in the city center with an easy, relaxed vibe and cool, bluesy jazz playing. Peter and I choose to enjoy the chef’s tasting menu, a parade of dishes paired with wines.

The server presents a plate of mink whale sashimi, thin slices of rare whale meat, slightly seared, which look and taste more like beef than fish. Peter and I joke that we were getting in touch with our inner Eskimo as we savor the delicious whale. Yummy rock shrimp, lightly fried and served on a bed of seaweed with a jalapeno sauce, arrive next—followed by crab legs, cut in half horizontally, making it easy to dig into the sweet, luscious meat.

Then a plate of sushi lands on the table with gleaming scallops topped with roe nestled next to rock-star quality salmon sashimi that melts like butter in our mouths. “You know it’s good when you lick the chopsticks,” Peter says.

After we enjoy the next course—salted cod, a local specialty, bursting with sweetness and hints of maple and raisins—an amazing baked salmon arrives served on a bed of creamed barley with cauliflower, hazelnuts, and haricots vert. And when we didn’t think we could eat another bite, tender duck slices with butternut squash tempt us, revealing a sweet, smoky flavor.

Our dessert course is equally amazing: light airy cheesecake, crème brulee, and raspberry and mango sorbet. No wonder foodies flock to Reykjavik, which hosts an annual food festival every March, and Fish Market is a must-visit restaurant when you’re in town.

A Blue Oasis

After a restful sleep on the fluffy beds at Radisson Blu, we feast again—this time on the hotel’s buffet breakfast. Perched among the fresh fruit, yogurt, and volkoren bread is a bottle of golden liquid next to tiny plastic cups—fish oil, rich in Omega 3s and a regular part of Icelanders’ daily diet. Its pleasant flavor isn’t fishy at all, and somehow I felt healthier after trying some.

Oiled up and invigorated, we walk across the street to the weekend flea market, where we watch a cross section of Reykjavik’s residents shop and bargain and socialize. Next Peter and I stroll along the harbor and see people boarding whale-watching tour boats. Too bad we can’t join them. Instead we head to the Saga Museum, which tells the history of Iceland featuring life-like replicas of historical figures. I’m amazed at how real the people look and enjoy a film at the end that describes how the figures are made.

The Blue Lagoon is calling us, a place where fog and rain won’t matter. Close to the airport in Keflavik, the Blue Lagoon has become a very popular tourist destination and even caters to those who have layovers at the airport. It’s located among acres of mossy lava rock and appears like an oasis in the middle of nowhere.

The first thing you see are the sapphire blue thermal pools with steam rising up commingling with the fog, a surreal landscape like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I can’t wait to jump in the warm water. Peter and I try the “Experience” package, which includes a towel, a drink at Lagoon Bar, and a beauty treatment—a mask or scrub pellet to smear on our faces. Visitors can also stay at a hotel on the property, enjoy spa treatments, and dine in the gorgeous restaurant overlooking the pools.

But it’s the water that lures you in. Its distinctive blue color comes from the rich minerals, silica, and algae that permeate the hot water, which of course comes from beneath the ground. It first cycles through a nearby power plant to generate electricity. Then it’s piped through a municipal system that provides heat to homes. Finally, the water feeds into the Blue Lagoon for recreational and medicinal bathing. The healing water has proven effective in treating psoriasis, and there’s even a line of skin care products featuring the water’s therapeutic minerals.

Peter and I love floating around in the Blue Lagoon, enjoying a cool beverage in the swim-up bar, and trying the scrub and facial pellets on our faces. Every so often we head to a sauna or steam room, then back into the soothing lagoon. It’s easy to see how people get addicted to this experience. You can find thermal pools all over Iceland—enjoyed by residents and visitors alike.

Yin & Yang

Our last night we dine at Scandinavian Bistro, a cozy restaurant on the main shopping street in Reykjavik, known for its Scandinavian-style open-face sandwiches. We love the simple, airy décor and the Fado music in the background, which remind Peter and me of warmer, sunnier climes.

After ordering some wine and perusing the menu, we decide to try reindeer paté for a starter. It arrives with crispy toast points, served with a bright red currant sauce as if to remind us of Rudolph’s red nose. The paté is delicious (Sorry, Santa!), and we eat every bite.

Choosing from the many tempting menu items is challenging. I order the fish soup—creamy and full of fresh seafood— and Peter chooses fish and chips—lightly fried sweet plaice, a member of the flounder family, served with remoulade and salad. For dessert, Peter and I share a heavenly chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream, the perfect finish.

That night my mind wanders as I drift off to sleep in our lovely hotel. I think about this extraordinary little country surrounded by the cold waters of the North Atlantic yet warmed by sizzling, churning volcanic activity deep underground. I think of the soft moss and the sharp lava. I think of the cold rain and warm waters of the Blue Lagoon. I remember the bumpy trot of my Icelandic horse followed by the smooth effortless movement of the tölt.

Iceland seems to be a country of opposites and mirrors life in that way. We are always pulled by the yin and the yang of existence. Sometimes it seems impossible to reconcile the opposites that surround us. But Iceland serves to remind us that the complexity of life is what makes the world such a fascinating place.

Editor’s Note: As we went to print, the Blue Lagoon is temporarily closed due to nearby volcanic activity. Visit www.bluelagoon.com for more information.

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