These past few weeks have demonstrated quite clearly that our lives are dictated by nature’s whims and it seems that its force shapes our characters as much as our genes and social upbringing.

But in between blasting blizzards, nature has also unveiled to us its utmost serene beauty.

While often irritating and potentially hazardous, especially when coupled with gale force winds, snow can prove equally enjoyable, both to look at and play in.

Last Saturday I joined the Iceland Touring Association (FÍ) for a hike as part of the ‘one peak per week’ project, to which 145 people have signed up for.

The mountain we set out to conquer, Helgafell in Hafnarfjörður (340 meters), was really more of a hill, but the deep snow and icy slope proved fairly challenging.

I was stunned at the number of participants, and they were people of all ages, from all walks of life and of varying levels of fitness.

We were accompanied by six guides who informed us about the necessary equipment, surrounding landscape, the location’s history and geology, and made sure that no one was left behind while enabling those most eager to reach the top to walk fast.

It was a beautiful day. We arrived at daybreak at 10:30 am, driving through the forested recreation area Kaldársel. Snow hung heavily from branches and flakes on the surface of the powder snow shimmered like crystals in the golden rays of the rising sun.

It was cold, -9°C (16°F) at the time of our arrival, but clear and still, and our view of the white blanket of a lava field that surrounds the mountain, other peaks and the snow-covered cityscapes of the capital region was mesmerizing.

Photos by ESA.

I certainly made the most of the wonderful winter weather that day because afterwards I went straight to the first horseback trip of the year with my grandfather.

As we returned to the stables shortly after 4 pm the sun was about to set, casting a yellowish hue over the snow-clad Víðidalur. Our horses were happy to have a roll in the snow and we all felt reenergized in the cool, fresh winter air.

While it is almost criminal not to spend some time outside on days like these, high winter is also the season for cultural activities. It’s important not only to nurture the outdoorsy recreationist in us but also the indoorsy bohemian.

Last weekend I got an equally high dose of culture and nature; my husband and I went to see two concerts in Harpa’s main music hall, Eldborg, and both were delightful, albeit different, experiences.

Eldborg. Photo by Geir Ólafsson.

Both of us are big fans of the unconquered spy and ladies’ man James Bond (although not so much of the latest films) and were excited to learn that the Iceland Symphony Orchestra would be giving Bond-themed concerts this winter.

With a brilliant conductor, skillful musicians and superb singers—not to mention glorious surroundings—the night was a thrill. There are so many good Bond songs as we came to realize during our recent marathon of old 007 movies.

That same weekend an old-school music man, Valgeir Guðjónsson, celebrated his 60th birthday with a concert at the same location, joined by his old band members, some of whom haven’t played together in decades.

This was the first time that we saw the main lineup of the legendary Stuðmenn, whose film Með allt á hreinu (On Top) from the early ’80s is an absolute classic, as is the entire score.

Another weekend is coming up and my program is packed again with a hike, horseback riding and a real bohemian cultural event this time around: the National Theater’s staging of Halldór Laxness’s World Light (I’ve almost finished the book!).

The National Theater's poster for World Light.

The Nobel Prize in Literature laureate’s words about nature ring true: the beauty of the sky, the glacier’s awesome presence and the freedom of lying on the ground, listening to a bubbling spring.

To the protagonist, the unfortunate poet Ólafur Kárason Ljósvíkingur, god remains intangible in spite of the “truth” preachers keep trying to shove down his throat. God is a resonance and can only be found outside in nature, he says.

And on a calm winter’s day when the world light is reflected in the snow, one can’t help but be filled with a feeling of stoicism and be at peace with man and nature. One can’t help but think god is near.

Eygló Svala Arnarsdóttir – eyglo@icelandreview.com