Seyðisfjörður has the best approach in Iceland, and the worst, depending on how you feel about heights. The road from Egilsstaðir climbs over the Fjarðarheiði pass, about six hundred metres up, through bleak moorland that can be buried in snow from autumn to spring, and then the land falls away and the fjord opens beneath you with its waterfalls and its toy-sized town. The descent is a series of hairpins, with a stream of falls beside the road, and it is as memorable as anything on the island.
The town is a surprise. Its wooden houses, many of them brought as kits from Norway in the late nineteenth century, are painted in bright colours, and the little blue church at the end of a street paved in rainbow colours has become one of the symbols of the East. It is a lively place for its size, with an arts centre, a technical museum and a summer of concerts. The weekly ferry from Denmark and the Faroe Islands docks here, and bikers roll off the boat into the first Icelandic cafe they meet.
The fjord has a darker recent history. In December 2020 a series of heavy landslides after days of rain swept through part of the town, destroying several old houses, though everyone was evacuated safely. The town has rebuilt with care, and monitoring has been improved, and the landscape feels both serene and slightly fragile. Be careful on the pass in wet or snowy weather.
Nature is superb. The mountains rise steeply on both sides, with waterfalls pouring from the cliffs, and the fjord is quiet and deep. Birds nest on the shoreline, and the light on the water is soft and silvery. The smell of the sea, damp wood and diesel from the ferry quay is distinctive.
The village is small but well served, with shops, cafes and places to eat, and it is a good place to stay a night. Egilsstaðir, with a broader range of services, is a short ride away over the pass. Check the pass conditions before you set out, and go slowly on the hairpins.