A Girl's Ride in Iceland

In Short

This book chronicles a late 19th-century expedition to Iceland by a small party of travelers. It balances the practical realities of navigating rugged, roadless terrain—including river fords and volcanic plains—with vivid observations of Icelandic culture, geology, and history. More than a simple travelogue, the work serves as a personal manifesto for independence, specifically concerning the author's controversial decision to ride horses astride rather than sidesaddle. Its enduring appeal lies in its infectious enthusiasm for discovery and its candid, unpretentious voice, which brings the remote landscapes of the North to life.

The Story

The journey begins with a brush with disaster in Scotland, as the author and her companion wait anxiously for a missing brother, whose failure to appear would have doomed their planned expedition. Once the party is reunited and safely aboard their steamer, the narrative shifts from the anxieties of travel logistics to the sensory experience of the North Atlantic. Upon arriving in Iceland, the group is immediately struck by the stark, dejected appearance of the local inhabitants, whose difficult lives are shaped by extreme cold and isolation. The travelers navigate this environment with a mixture of awe and practical curiosity, documenting everything from the intricate embroidery of native costumes to the curious custom of using snuff.

As the travelers move inland from the port of Akureyri, the narrative details the physical hardships of the terrain. The author describes the "frost-mounds"—small, treacherous hillocks that cover the landscape like a graveyard—and the constant need to repair dilapidated harnesses and saddles. These sections are punctuated by the author’s insistence that riding astride is the only sensible way to handle such rugged territory. She openly defies the conventions of her time, arguing that the practice is not only safer but essential for endurance.

The arc of the journey centers on a trek to the famous Geysers, a trip that requires the group to hire multiple pack ponies and navigate vast, desolate stretches of lava. Along the way, they find moments of beauty, such as the cobalt-blue waters of Thingvalla Lake, which the author describes as a transition from a desert into "fairyland." They camp in tiny tents that force them to crawl on their hands and knees, turning daily necessities like washing and dressing into amusing puzzles. Despite the lack of comforts and the persistent scent of sulphur, the party finds joy in the simplicity of the experience.

The journey concludes with a swift ride back to Reykjavik, the travelers having successfully completed their circuit without a single accident. The final sections of the book delve into the deeper, ancient geology of the island, reflecting on the volcanic "Fire Focus of the North." The author leaves the reader with a sense of accomplishment and a final, lingering defense of her chosen method of travel, urging other women to follow her example and "defy Mrs. Grundy" in favor of personal freedom and physical capability.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The narrative opens with the frantic preparations for a trip to Iceland, nearly derailed by the disappearance of a key member of the party. The author details the process of securing passage through a dingy, cat-filled office, highlighting the contrast between the mundane details of travel and the wild destination ahead.

Arrival and first impressions Upon reaching the island, the travelers encounter a land of somber, sallow-faced locals and traditional costumes. The author documents the quiet, simple life of the interior, noting the absence of trees and the pervasive atmosphere of struggle against the elements.

Riding the interior The party engages in arduous horseback travel across lava fields and frost-mounds. During these segments, the author emphasizes the practical necessity of her attire and posture, positioning her personal comfort against the rigid social expectations of her era.

Reaching the Geysers The expedition culminates in a trek to the Great Geyser and the surrounding hot springs. The author provides a vivid, detailed account of the camp life and the awe-inspiring, if fleeting, power of the geothermal activity observed in the region.

Reflections on the landscape The book closes by situating the island’s beauty within its violent geological history. The author reflects on the ephemeral nature of the geysers and the profound, desolate majesty of the Icelandic landscape, solidifying her appreciation for the country’s unique character.

The People

The author, Mrs. Alec-Tweedie, acts as the observant and determined central figure. She is motivated by a desire to witness the world firsthand and is hindered primarily by the rigid social expectations of her gender. By the end, she emerges as a staunch advocate for female autonomy. Her brother, Vaughan, serves as a practical, adventurous ally, though he occasionally provides moments of humor, such as when he introduces local guides to the novelty of a fusee. The guides themselves, including the helpful Jon, are portrayed with respect; they are essential intermediaries who bridge the gap between the tourists and the primitive, often baffling, realities of the Icelandic wilderness. Their interactions—from sharing meals to struggling with language barriers—reveal the mutual curiosity between the visitors and the hosts, ultimately leaving the author with a deep appreciation for the resilience of the Icelandic people.

In Its Own Voice

"I can only repeat what I before said, that we should never have accomplished this long and fatiguing ride so easily, and in such a short time, either in a chair or on a side saddle; so if any lady should follow our example, and go to Iceland, let her be prepared to defy Mrs Grundy, and ride as a man."

The author defends her choice to ride astride after completing a grueling 160-mile trek.

"The mere glancing around, and noticing how the geysers had evidently, like human beings, but a transient existence, produced a somewhat strange sensation."

While observing the geothermal vents, the author muses on the fleeting nature of life and volcanic activity.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this book is an exploration of the relationship between human limitations and the vast, uncaring power of the natural world. It moves beyond a standard travelogue to question the boundaries of propriety, arguing that the physical world makes no concessions for social decorum. By treating the act of riding a horse as a political statement, the author asks the reader to consider whether tradition or utility should dictate how one navigates life. The book serves as an argument for the expansion of women's spheres, suggesting that the "freedom of the road" is a universal right that, once tasted, makes the constraints of polite society feel increasingly arbitrary and suffocating.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy historical travel writing and the spirit of early female explorers will find much to admire here. The narrative feels remarkably immediate; the author’s voice is sharp, observant, and frequently humorous, making the reader feel like a companion on the trail. While modern readers may note the occasional period prejudice or the author's focus on her own Victorian perspective, these are outweighed by the sheer vibrancy of her descriptions of a landscape that is both beautiful and terrifying. The book is particularly compelling for those interested in the history of social norms, as the author’s defiance of "Mrs. Grundy"—the Victorian personification of priggish morality—remains a relatable, empowering thread throughout the text. It is a brisk, engaging read that captures the thrill of escaping the familiar for the unknown. You will likely walk away from it with a newfound respect for the physical courage of travelers of the past and a lingering curiosity about the "Fire Focus of the North."