Iceland 2026

Royal Air Squadron – Iceland Adventure – 7-13 June 2026
Trip Report
October 2025.
It started as a germ of an idea to do a recce of Iceland before maybe planning a Squadron trip. Sure, I had flown through Keflavik, but I knew next to nothing about flying in Iceland itself. And then Chris Harper called… “Derek, I know you were planning a recce, but what about just doing it as a Squadron trip?” He’s a persuasive chap, Chris, and I’m only any good with a deadline, so… why not?
When to go? September would work well for the Squadron diary, but June would be mid-summer with long days although with more rushed planning. A bit of research showed that September is Iceland’s wettest month and that started the ball rolling on some of the issues that needed to be mitigated for this trip:
The weather. The weather in the UK is changeable for so many reasons. But that pales into insignificance compared to Iceland’s weather patterns. It will come as no surprise that Iceland sits very much on the cold and wet side of the UK. The weather there is driven by the meeting of the Mid-Atlantic air and cold Arctic air along the North Atlantic Storm track. This produces extreme volatility with high winds, rapid shifts and heavy rain and snowfall shaped by the island’s unique mountain geography. Along with very high winds, abrupt and large variations in temperature and sky conditions exist (the ‘Four Seasons in a Day’ phenomenon). Countless micro-climates where mountain ranges block weather fronts – where one side of a ridge can experience bright, warm sunshine, while the other endures heavy rain or blinding snow. These and myriad other weather issues helped me understand, in time, what initially was somewhat frustrating about Icelandic planning – don’t plan too much too early as the weather will intervene! Three phrases were used quite often:
“If you don’t like the weather, just wait 5 (or 15) minutes”.
“Gluggaveõur”, or “Weather Window” – the weather might look nice out of the window, but turns bitterly cold and fierce the moment you step outside.
“Þetta reddast” – not strictly a weather phrase but what I understood to be a national motto, “It will all work out in the end”.
In June the weather is at its calmest. In September the ‘Icelandic Low’ returns and is its wettest month with severe wind storms. So June it is then!
Long Sea Track. The closest airfield (Kirkwall, Orkneys), still has a 500nm straight-line trip to the closest Icelandic airfield that accepts international arrivals, Egilstaddir (BIEG), with the vast majority over-sea. That’s a long way. Vagar in the Faroes is halfway, but that’s not somewhere to plan on (more later). So everyone will need to have suitable survival gear to help them stay alive in the North Atlantic should the worst happen.
The planned route, EGPA-BIEG. 500nm over-sea, straight line
Fuel usage. With such a long sea track, everyone had to think about how they were going to maximise their fuel efficiency. No ‘Balls to the wall’ on this one. Efficiency vs outright speed would be the aim.
It quickly became clear that it is not ideal to plan to land at Vagar in the Faroes. The prevailing wind tends to be 90o off the runway which sits in a valley. The wind careers over the top of the steep hill and can cause severe turbulence. To even be allowed to use Vagar as an en-route diversion we each had to complete a course to understand the, ahem, vagaries of the wind there.
All these issues needed to be mitigated before we even got into the meat of the trip – flying around Iceland itself and introducing ourselves to our Icelandic flying brethren. Then all the admin started in earnest, with GenDecs, permissions, route plans and confirmations, along with Cindy Wimble doing her amazing job of organising hotels, taxis and buses, dinner bookings, sightseeing trips and, and, and…. Without Cindy’s help these trips would be so much less.
June 2026
Nearly eight months later and it’s nearly time to go. We had a two-hour brief and Q&A from a contact of Terry Holloway, Nigel Webb, who has flown the North Atlantic route many times over the last 30-odd years. Nigel was brilliant. Informative, concise yet full of all the important details. I think we were somewhat in awe, but he was able to give us some fascinating details and anecdotes. This talk really made us think about the undertaking we were embarking on. Of particular use was Nigel’s advice on fuel efficiency, point of no return and what to pack in the survival bag. A sobering evening.
In the immediate lead up to the trip, everyone tried on their various styles of survival gear – from the sublime (Chris and Jan Harper’s mil-spec immersion suits with clip-on single-seat dinghy pack), through drysuits to what appeared to be Telly-Tubbie-style ‘goon’ suits. Some even trialled their suits in the sea (at the beach!) to see what they were like in the hopefully unlikely event of them needing to be used for real.
Trying on the immersion suits
The Trip
Sunday 8 June. Everyone met at Newhall Mains for lunch on Sunday. Thank you Euan! A delicious way to start the trip. Some had arrived the day before while most flew up that morning. At this stage there were six aircraft: Peter and Susie Fernandez in their Arrow, Tim Clark’s twin Baron (with Richard Menage and Andrew Wimble), Euan Ramsay’s Bonanza, the Van’s team – Chris and Jan Harper’s RV-8 and Derek Sington’s RV-7, and the legendary Bear and Annette Gosling in their Robin Regent. Feelings appeared a touch subdued - the joy of seeing friends again but with a touch of apprehension in the air. After lunch we shot off to the main launching point – Kirkwall in the Orkneys – for the first night before the long over-sea leg to Iceland. At Kirkwall the Baron had a slight snag on landing – a flat spot on the mainwheels – but a call to the engineer found it was nothing major. Press on! Could this be the one (and sole) snag of the trip? I hoped so.
Lunch at Newhall Mains
Kirkwall was amusing – a lovely little airfield but somewhat with delusions of grandeur as it felt like we were arriving at a major international airport. After refuelling and putting the aircraft to bed for the night we were taken to the terminal building (with the obligatory HIALS admin). Because we didn’t have crew cards there was a bit of officiousness on display. Maybe a RAS ‘Aircrew’ card might be of use? Then by taxi to the hotel. Quick change, pre-dinner drinks and a chat about tomorrow’s long over-sea leg.
Sobering chat this one. How to ditch your aircraft with the greatest chance of not tipping over. How to get out and into a dinghy, and how long would it be until you’re picked up…. Let’s hope none of this would be put into practice. Euan Ramsay had certainly thought it through though – he had packed a bottle of Gevrey-Chambertin to crack open when lazing in the dinghy awaiting rescue.
Monday 8 June. The forecast for the Kirkwall weather on Monday started with a fair coverage of low cloud with a clearance by 10am. And so it turned out. We delayed our departure from the hotel so we wouldn’t be hanging around the airport waiting. No admin faff today, but only a tiny medical room in which to get changed into our immersion suits. Then straight to the aeroplanes. Covers off, aircraft packed and goon suits zipped up – what a motley crew!
Just before the off. Nervous, moi?
No issues on startup, taxi out in flying-speed order: Clark Baron, Fernandez Arrow, Ramsay Bonanza, Sington RV-7, Harper RV-8, Gosling Robin. What a feeling as we taxied towards the runway – somewhat like butterflies, that almost adolescent feeling of ‘a little bit excited, a little bit nervous’.
Airborne in order. The weather was lovely by now – the low cloud had broken up and left the odd fluffy cumulus cloud. Super visibility and no issues. Furthermore there was no headwind, and even a slight tailwind from the halfway point. Initially we climbed to 7-8,000ft while in UK airspace, for the first 200-odd miles. Soon any sign of land receded and we were surrounded by water. Occasionally a trawler or yacht, and we could see a long way, but mostly the expanse of empty ocean. Cool air and high pressure meant the engines performed at their best, but any change in attitude that resulted in a small change in speed meant the engine would change its tone almost imperceptibly. Normally unnoticeable, but all senses were heightened now and any change in tone made for a quick glance at the instruments. The Baron and Arrow shot off. The RV-7 caught up with the Bonanza in the climb but from top of climb the Bonanza eased ahead easily.
As we headed to the waypoint on the FIR boundary – reporting point NALAN – we all descended to below the Reykjavik Class A airspace (FL55) as we were all VFR. At this point we were approaching the Faroes so were able to talk to them easily. It was just an information service from Vagar Tower who needed to coordinate the arrival and departure of a couple of commercial flights so coordinated altitudes with the first few aircraft. This was the first time we were going to have an inkling of some of the sights we were going to be seeing on this trip. The hills! The islands! The waterfalls! It really has to be seen to be believed, but what views. Stunning doesn’t begin to describe it. Everyone’s plan was initially to fly through the overhead of the Vagar airfield at around 5,000ft. Super views but the cloud was bubbling up a bit because of the islands. And then Chris Harper requested to fly the ‘Waterfall Approach’ towards the runway. Not to land, just to fly past and see the sights from a lower altitude. Cracking idea. Those that hadn’t passed by already descended down to the lake that sits a few hundred feet above the sea and drains into the ocean by a waterfall. Flying past the waterfall, along the lake and down the runway was the first of some very special events over the coming days.
The Faroes
It turns out that Reykjavik Control (the Icelandic controlling agency) has a relay station on the Faroes, so we were able to maintain radio contact (mostly) all the way from there. There was a NOTAM that closed some airspace on our route due to a potential live firing military exercise – not a piece of airspace to ‘bust’ – so we initially went around it until Reykjavik Control confirmed it was no longer a factor and we could go ‘direct’. This first leg - to Egilstaddir (BIEG) in the south-east of Iceland – was hopefully going to be flown direct but to do so we would have to fly over some 4000ft high mountains or follow a ‘nicky-nacky-noo’ route through the valleys at low level below the inevitable cloud. The airspace around Iceland itself, once close, is quite open – effectively Class E up to FL195. So now climbing up wasn’t an issue. However, as we approached the island the most peculiar cloud formation came into view. The mountains were covered in cloud (expected – the standard ‘cumulo-grantitus’) but there looked like there might be a way through the valleys underneath. But there was also the most bizarre donut-shaped bank of cloud/fog that was much thicker than a Haar, thicker even than the Maloja Snake in the Engadin Valley. Amazing to view.
With the tailwind and engine performance, fuel use was not an issue so most took the long way and went around the high ground to the east (Egilstaddir lies on a plain that stretches east to the coast. The high ground is to the south of the airfield.) The cloud petered out as we went east and the low ground of the plain was in clear sunshine – an immediate example of how the weather is so different across a very short distance in Iceland. Going past the high ground was incredibly turbulent. Chris and Jan Harper took their RV-8 through the valleys. They got to Egilstaddir sooner but also had to contend with some vicious turbulence. And so we all landed in one piece at Egilstaddir. Big smiles!
Refuelling was a doddle – quick and efficient and then a short taxi to park next to Mark Dunkerley’s beautiful TBM 940. Out of the immersion suits at last. Immediate impression? Gosh the air here is clear and lovely to breathe.
Once inside (no passport control) we sat down on some chairs to wait for our transport to the hotel. It was surprisingly quiet – I think the magnitude of what we had just done was starting to sink in, along with the dawning realisation that we’ve got to get back! Fingers stayed resolutely crossed for the weather to stay good for us.
The bus arrived and we went to the hotel, 1001 Nott, which had the most incredible views across the lake. Our first example of Icelandic hospitality was super. As we checked in the border police arrived for a chat and to stamp our passports. We dropped our bags off and met in the bar for a well-earned beer that tasted really good. A squadron dinner with chats about the day’s adventure. A good night’s sleep too.
Tuesday 9 June. Easy flight today, hopefully. The aim was to explore the eastern side of Iceland – the Eurasian Tectonic Plate – and end in the north of the island at Akureyri (BIAR). The planned route took everyone along numerous valleys, past known (dormant) volcanoes and small waterfalls. Around two-thirds of the way round the route, Tim Clark saw some vapour to the north of the route and went to investigate. They found a significant waterfall and passed the location back to everyone who duly had to visit. There is also an island about 50nm to the north of Akureyri, called Grimsey, just inside the Arctic Circle. Most chose to fly there to get the ‘stat’ of landing in the Arctic Circle, but there was also a warning of large bird activity with the associated risk of bird strikes so a good lookout was needed. Euan in the Bonanza arrived first and, “Blimey*, there are a lot of birds!” came over the radio as what appeared to be the World’s population of gannets or somesuch chose to get airborne as he did his touch and go. [* Note - ‘Blimey’ might not be the actual word used…]. Bear and Annette stopped and taxied to the airfield buildings before heading off again to ensure they got the full Arctic Circle stat.
Suggested route for the eastern side. Grimsey is off the map to the north
Volcano top was just at the base of the cloud. It looks like it stretches up, but stops pretty much where you’re looking
A Bear’s eye-view of Grimsey. The birds are waiting…
Meanwhile the pair of RVs, now in formation and operating as ‘Redbird Flight’ had flown through various valleys to get towards the approach into Akureyri. We were due to be hosted that evening by the local flying club at a grass strip 10 miles south of Akureyri, Melgerdismelar (BIMM). The aim was to land at least a couple of aeroplanes there if possible, but unsure of the runway surface, they flew a recce. Grass, but how bumpy? The visual inspection showed it to be rather bumpy with lots of sizeable stones. Not ideal for the tight spats over RV wheels. So with discretion we all landed at Akureyri. Parked up at the south-western corner of the airfield next to the big hangar that houses the aviation museum (it was the founder of the museum, Arngrimur Johanson, who was hosting us at Akureyri). We were also met by a camera crew from Icelandic TV News who filmed and interviewed us, with the results being shown on the evening news bulletin.
There was now time to look around the museum – a real highlight and one of the best living-aviation museums outside of the USA. Aside from ‘Arn’, we also met the director of the museum and very much the energy and organisational talent behind the project, Maria Sveindõttir. She had also organised the BBQ that evening at Melgerdismelar, where we met other pilots from the north and east of Iceland, ranging from commercial, private, and to those undergoing their training. It is always such a joy to meet such people as we have so much in common. While we all chatted the evening away (we are so lucky to have English as the international language of aviation), we were thoroughly entertained by an Icelandic poet-cum-musician who, on being given a RAS cap by the Commodore, was greatly amused by what he saw as the British lion controlling everything on Earth.
Director of the museum, Maria Sveindõttir
The entertainment!
This portion of the trip was another highlight – we were able to visit areas of the country few people see, and to meet some lovely people. They hold an annual air show over the weekend of the summer solstice… Maybe another visit should be arranged over this weekend when we are heading to Canada and the US?
Wednesday 10 July. While Tuesday’s flying had been exploring the eastern side of Iceland, on Wednesday we explored the west, the land of the North American Tectonic Plate. Really different. A fair smattering of glaciers and smoother, greener hills and mountains (still vertiginous though). They had just had another cold snap so snow still covered the mountain tops and around the lakes, which were filled with water that shone azure. Around the corner and some very long and sandy beaches. Then we flew south over Reykjavik and went searching for the volcano that had been erupting recently, near Grindavik. We found some rising steam, but that was what Icelanders use for power generation. Landed at Reykjavik and headed to the hotel in town from the FBO. Another amazing day’s flying with incredible views. While there was some low cloud we were again lucky with the weather. What were they saying about four seasons in a day? Nah, it’s beautiful here…
Intercepted!
Put to bed in Reykjavik
Reykjavik was clearly busy – June is the middle of their short three-month tourist season. The afternoon was available to see the sights – from the cathedral to the phallological museum and anywhere in between! Some excellent live music in the bars too. We met up with Cindy Wimble, Ali Menage and Kiki Fernandez, Pedro’s brother. Euan’s girlfriend Charlie had made it to Akureyri the previous night.
Thursday 11 June. The next day was always going to be a long day – a fairly early start to get on a bus tour of the ‘Golden Circle’, the classic tourist tour of the highlights of Iceland close to Reykjavik. Hot lakes and lava-bread; big waterfalls and spouting geysers; tomato-growing in big glass houses, where the plants are fertilised by bumble bees kept for the purpose – great lunch too (the tomatoes, not the bees); and finally the utter blackness inside a lava tunnel. A fascinating day finished off with a Squadron dinner at the Fishmarktdurin, ‘The Fish Market’, where we hosted Sindri Steingrimson, the ex-head of Iceland’s SAR helicopter fleet, and Matthías Sveinbjörnsson, President of Iceland’s Pilot Association.
Lava Tunnels. Very dark!
Midnight, and it’s still light
Friday 12 June. And then the Icelandic weather did its thing. We were supposed to fly back to Egilstaddir to position in readiness to depart home on Saturday. Saturday’s forecast was looking good all day, but Friday had the eastern third of Iceland covered in fog all day, with only a remote possibility of potential clearances. Should we press and likely divert to Hofn on the south coast, or do we wait another day? Hotel options were looked into but taxis were unavailable in Hofn. The weather was good in Reykjavik so the decision was easy – let’s wait in Reykjavik and have a long day’s flying on Saturday. Bear, in true ‘Mister Motivator’ style, declared a trip to the Western Isles, Vestmannaeyjar (BIVM), as the day’s alternative itinerary. So we jumped into aeroplanes various (some of us joined Mark Dunkerley in his TBM-940, a real treat) and flew to the Western Isles, just off the south-west coast of Iceland. Highly volcanic, with a famous major eruption in 1973, after landing we walked into town for a delicious fish lunch. Back in time for a reasonably early dinner for the early start on Saturday.
Front of the TBM 940
Back row of the TBM!
Vestmannaeyjar
Saturday 13 June. Maybe not too early, as it turned out that 0800 was the earliest we were allowed to start our engines. With aeroplanes packed and ready to go we all raced off to get to Egilstaddir. Some went via the centre of Iceland while others went around the coast to see the glaciers. All had amazing views, particularly ‘Glacier Lake’, where icebergs break off and sit in a lake with only a small exit to the sea. Then on to Egilstaddir through the valleys in glorious weather. Another special trip.
We all met up again at Egilstaddir for a pitstop refuel, passport stamp and quick loo stop before donning those damned goon suits again. After the mandatory flight plan filing we were all off (GARs were filed from Reykjavik yesterday). The nervousness associated with the journey into the unknown was lessened, but the über-sensitivity to engine tone variation was possibly more heightened. The weather gods were smiling on us again though – we had a healthy tailwind again. So much so that we were able to plan to fly to Newhall Mains. Most flew back direct, although Euan took Charlie via the Faroes as he’d missed the Vagar fly-through on the first leg, which now felt so long ago. Reykjavik Control were clear all the way to the FIR boundary (this time at MATIK), but then it was another 100nm or so before we were able to contact Scottish Control even after a climb to 9000ft. Fabulous weather all the way to the Scottish mainland and from there it was raining a little when we landed at Newhall Mains. Quick refuel and off we each went on our way. Some stayed another night at Newhall Mains, others pressed home. Those that did flew over 1200nm in one day – that’s a lot of flying.
Where does the cloud end and the glacier start?
Back at Egilstaddir before the return over-sea leg
Farewell Iceland!
Hello again Newhall Mains
So overall in the space of a week we each flew over 3000nm. That’s over 5,500km. Over a lot of water, through some incredible valleys, past innumerable waterfalls and jaw-dropping cracks in the Earth. We met an incredible group of people who looked after us wonderfully. It was a real adventure.