Anyone who has spent time in Iceland will know that the weather up here isn’t exactly characterized by warm tropical nights – something that most of us probably associate with the beach. So you might be surprised to learn that a small group of hardcore riders have created a surfing community in Iceland—and they brave the icy waves year round.

By Zoë Robert, photos by Georg Hilmarsson and Zoë Robert.

Maik checking out the waves.

“We’re going down to check out the waves, if you want to come,” Ingó blares down the telephone line. There hadn’t been any decent surf for over two months so he was understandably excited at the news of a swell.

This was the call I had been waiting weeks for. I had heard that there was a small group of surfers in Iceland, but finding them hadn’t been easy. Being from Australia, where some kids are taught to surf before they can walk, I would never have imagined that finding people who surf – even in a land with miles of black volcanic beaches – would prove to be so difficult. But; not only did I find that there were so few surfers here, but some of those that do surf, like to keep an air of secrecy surrounding the details of the local scene. Considering that this sport is normally associated with the tropical waters of Hawaii and California and not the chilly northernmost capital of the world, surfing in Iceland, where sea temperatures only reach a balmy 15ºC for a few brief weeks in July, is certainly not for the weak.

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“There are not that many surfers in Iceland and for many reasons we want to keep it that way. One of them is the empty line-ups [queue of surfers waiting to ride the next wave]. So, there has been a specific policy among Icelandic surfers to keep a low profile,” said Valdimar Thorlacius, who first took up the pastime 18 months ago, joining the 20 or 30 other devoted surfers on the island.

The surfers I was talking to before Ingó’s call emphasized the importance of keeping tight lipped about some of their locations there was even talk of a “secret” surf shop in Reykjavík which apparently sells a small selection of boards and accessories. Despite this, the handful of surfers I managed to get in contact with were willing to answer my questions or, point me in the direction of someone, namely Ingó, who could and even meet up with me at one of the better known spots so I could catch them in action.

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A couple of hours after Ingó’s excited phone call, on a bright mid-summer’s evening after a 45-minute drive from Reykjavík, I arrive just outside of the fishing village of Grindavík where I had arranged to meet Ingólfur “Ingó” Már Olsen, the man with the authority on extreme sports in Iceland – or so his fellow surfers tell me. As I wait for him, I see several cars with surfboards in the back drive past – the waves are finally picking up.

We follow Ingó to a popular spot just outside of the harbor, where he predicts we will find some surf. When we arrive, there are already seven others checking out the waves from the view at the car park. The low tide means that the in the rocky open beach spreads far into the distance before reaching the shoreline. From where I stand, it is difficult to make out the break.

I am introduced to the guys; Maik Brötzmann, Ólíver “Óli” Hilmarsson and some others; all of them Icelanders, apart from German Maik who, like Valdimar, has been surfing for about a year and a half. “I've never seen so many guys at the one spot,” Maik exclaims when I ask if it is the norm to have this many eyes preying on the surf.

After having dutifully observed the marine forecast for over two months, only to repeatedly find that the waves were barely pushing half a meter – far from the desired minimum couple of meters in height  the eight guys, most of who hadn’t been in the water during that time, understandably share their keen desire not to miss this opportunity. The warm 13 to 15ºC evening combined with word of some decent waves, is making for some promising conditions.

“It should be good around midnight,” says Ingó after taking one look at the modest waves. But it’s only around 8 pm and he doesn’t plan on waiting around for the tide to come in and the waves to improve. Apart from surfing, Ingó spends much of his time involved in other “extreme” sports such as dirt biking, snowboarding and skating and he has a reputation among his peers for pushing limits.

“Just when you think you can't go any further – that's where he starts to have fun,” Maik says of Ingó’s thrill-seeking attitude, his eyes scouring the waves to see if there is an outside chance he’ll be able to head in before the clock strikes twelve. While Ingó takes off to spend a few hours biking in the barren landscape just outside of town the rest of us survey the ocean from the edge of the rocky beach.

Like some of the other guys, Ingó actually learned to surf in these waters – and has been doing so religiously for the past eight years. But, he wasn’t the first to brave the cool waves. According to Ingó, some of the older guys started surfing here 20 years ago.

The absence of any decent waves over the last couple of months means that Maik and most of the others, save the few who have had the luxury of jetting off to more favorable destinations overseas, haven’t been in the surf this summer and are more than keen to test the waves, even though those we see offshore tonight are “pretty small.” Maik pauses. “But we’re pretty desperate now,” he grins and admits.

A couple of the riders don’t hesitate to duck behind their cars to put on their wetsuits and booties. Maik, though, contemplates whether he’ll follow suit. He explains that he is taking his time to survey the waves because he hasn’t surfed this spot before.

Óli tells me he has some spare equipment after having worked in a surf shop in LA. He offers me the use of a board and wetsuit, if I ever feel like joining them. “We want to get more people into it,” he says. Maik and Óli tell me that most of them have girlfriends that either want to learn to surf or already do.

From the car park we observe Óli and the others make their way down to the water. Because it is low tide, to get to the ocean they first need to make their way across the 100 or so meters of sharp, slippery seaweed-covered rocks that separate the shoreline from the waves. Wearing booties, they are well prepared for both the cool water and the rough surface of the rocks. We spot a seal lying on the rocks by the ocean. Maik tells me that one of the great things about surfing in this country is the amount of wildlife you encounter.

“The seals surf the waves with us, they show us how it’s done,” he says. “Sometimes, they come up to the board and we give them a pat – we’ve even given one of them a name.”

I decide to try and get closer to the water so I can get a better view of the guys that have now reached the entry and are heading out past the break. I walk barefoot over the slippery seaweed, the pungent salty smell of which infiltrates my nostrils. I only make it halfway to the ocean; clambering over the sharp slippery rocks, shells and urchins and wading through the icy water isn’t my idea of fun, but gives me a sense of how much I must be missing out on in the surf, considering the guys describe the long, difficult walk as a mere minor setback. From my viewpoint, it’s still difficult to see the guys, but I can just make out a few of them riding the waves.

Maik, who has just put on his wetsuit, but is still contemplating whether he’ll head in, tells me that most of the group have spent time living in Australia. He himself spent time living in the state of Queensland, renound for its great beaches and thriving surf culture. We discuss different surfing spots and how the scene differs to that in Iceland. Maik says that the localism that he experienced in Australia doesn’t exist here. “[In Australia] you can get punched in the face for jumping in on a wave,” he says.

Surfing in Iceland has its obvious drawbacks, however, like the absence of lifeguards on these remote shores. “You can find waves everywhere you go – but it’s all at your own risk, there is no rescue team around,” Maik warns. Also, not only do you have to wear booties, but because of the unpredictability of the weather up here, you also have to plan ahead and constantly check the forecast, which usually means Maik and his friends get word of good waves and head out at very little notice. Ingeniously, the group had a web cam set up on the beach earlier in the year, though, he tells me there have been some problems with it lately.

According to the marine weather forecast, the water temperature tonight is around 13ºC not exactly warm. But, that’s pretty favorable considering these surfers – the die-hards at least – brave the subzero temperatures that the come with the Icelandic winter. And we’re talking really cold. The water temperature averages between –1ºC and +4ºC in the winter. “In February and March it can get down to –5ºC and with the wind chill factor it is really cold. We only stay in for half an hour to two hours max,” Maik says.

Apart from wearing thick, hooded wetsuits, how do they deal with such cool temperatures, more suited to snow sports than surfing? “We go to the petrol station to get some hot water to pour over us. Then we dry, pull on warm clothes and put the heat on max in the car,” Maik says.

Maik and I have been talking for over an hour now and Oliver and the others are still out in the waves. I wonder how they are handling the icy water. Maik explains that the most loyal surfers are “totally surf-addicted” and that surfing is their priority – regardless of how cold it gets. But, their dedication doesn’t always grant them immunity from the cold. “Sometimes you are so freezing that you can’t talk – we just make signals to each other,” Maik admits. “It [the cold] really zaps your energy, so I try to prepare myself by eating good food so I have energy and then after we go and grab a hamburger. If you get washed [get slammed by waves], the head loses too much heat and you get disoriented.”

Maik recalls the time when the winter waves really took their toll on him. “My fingers were so numb. I couldn’t take my wetsuit off; I needed someone to help me.” Despite this, he says that some of the surfers, namely Ingó, occasionally take off their hoods in the water, just to push the limits of the already extreme sport.

Maik’s first experience surfing in Iceland was in February this year. “The water was ice cold. When I got out I acted drunk and disoriented. I kept swaying when I was trying to walk with my board,” he says, offering a brief demonstration.

“As long as there are waves and there’s no wind to destroy them – no matter how cold it is – we come out,” Ingó told me in a conversation I had with him a couple weeks later.

I had heard that there were just a handful of surfers in Iceland, but after being told that there were a record number of guys out here tonight, I wonder whether Iceland is getting a reputation amongst surfers as the Hawaii of the north.

But, according to Maik and the other guys, there are just ten to 13 hardcore surfers here who go out every time and the occasional foreigner “who wants to say ‘I surfed in Iceland.’”

Iceland’s surf is ranked among the best in the world, according to these devotees. “It’s the best place in the world – everyone can be out and it's still quiet,” Maik says. “The big difference in other places is that you try to avoid big crowds. Here you call each other up when you’re going out.”

“Word class surf, just colder,” Ingó later boasted, comparing his home surf to other places he’s surfed such as New Zealand, France and the Canary Islands. “They’re only better because you can just wear your trunks,” he says of overseas surf destinations.

Still standing at the car park surveying the waves, Maik tells me that having to replace board shorts with a wetsuit was one of the original drawbacks of starting to surf in Iceland. “My biggest problem […] was the wetsuit – everything feels different. There is more friction and you don’t have the same feel for board control,” he complains.

It’s 10 pm and I’ve been chatting to Maik for the best part of two hours while the other guys have been in the water. Maik, who is studying to become a meteorologist, tells me he has considered the positive aspects that global warming might have on the island. “I think it will get warmer and warmer here, so we should start a surf company or surf shop,” he jokes as I leave to drive back to the capital and leave him to finally head out over the slippery rocks towards the waves.

Next time I might just take up Óli’s offer and find out how cold that water really is.

To view more photos of surfing in Iceland go to: www.iceart.is.