¶ Welcome to Listener Tales Round Two
Welcome to Eerie Iceland. the podcast where Iceland's darkest secrets, legends, and strangest encounters come to life, all to ensure they will never be forgotten. From ancient folklore and ghost stories, to haunted landscapes, sorcery, and the elusive hidden people. If it's mysterious and Icelandic, you'll find it here. I'm Anne, an American entrepreneur.
living among the mist and myths of Iceland, and I've become utterly consumed by what lies beneath the surface here. Will you dare to follow me into this unexplainable realm? Today, I'm stepping aside to let all of you take the spotlight again. Hello, listener tales, round two. I am so grateful for all of you that listen each week and for those of you that binge and for those of you who are willing to write in and share your stories with me.
on our social media platforms, and via email. Thank you so freaking much. These are your stories, your haunting moments. Tales you've sent in of your own experiences from just about every corner of Iceland. From the moss-laden lava fields and remote fjords to downtown Reykjavik. Some are subtle chills, some steeped in dread, but all of them, all of them have one thing in common. They leave us with something unanswered or with goosebumps.
So turn off the lights, pull the blankets close, and listen carefully. The shadows shared today may be deeper than they seem. Shall we begin? So story one is entitled...
¶ The Yellow Eyes at Þingvellir
The yellow eyes at Thingliver. This has been sent in by Thora and she is from Selfos. And so the background to this story is that Thora's family has a summer house near Thingliver. You know. the historic Rift Valley where the famed North American and Eurasian tectonic plates drift apart? And some say, perhaps, other things do too. The park is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
And it's about a one hour drive from the Reykjavik city limits and also found within the famed Golden Circle. And for those of you that haven't been, this is also the scene of where the drowning pool is. This is where the historic parliament begins. And there's a lot of history outside of the Titanic plates as well. There's a beautiful waterfall, all kinds of historical things happening. This has also been the scene for multiple films that have been created, both TV shows and movies.
as well. One of the biggest ones that I can think of off the top of my mind would be Game of Thrones. So Thor writes, I've always felt a strange energy in Thingliver. Every time, my family spent long weekends relaxing at our summer house nearby. Everyone says it's sacred, but there's just something, something uneasy about it to me. I used to walk my dog, Loki.
on the narrow trail that followed the river into the surrounding woods. And one weekend in late November, my family headed up there to start making loifebreuth as Advent was nearing. And it's a tradition for us. I'm going to hit the pause button just for one second. So for those of you guys. that don't remember from the Christmas episode that we did last year, right before, I think it released the week before Christmas. It's about, you know, all the traditions and...
the Yule lads and, you know, all the nightmares that are involved with our Christmas things. I had talked about loyfe bread and loyfe bread is leaf bread. And leaf bread is this magical, magical, delicious, fried... dough and you cut it with your family and you make designs. You know, Vanessa and I had chatted about it that I needed to make myself like a gluten-free recipe for it, right?
And so this is a tradition for a lot of people. And this was actually a tradition in my husband's family as well. You know, leading up to Advent, whether it was before or during, you would go up to like your summer house or you would go somewhere, someone's to house. you would make the designs in this bread and then fry it up. And then typically you put like a smoked lamb on top of it or someone might do ham or not ham, salmon.
lox, right? You know, different people do different things. Some people even just put butter on it and it's delicious, right? So just to give you, you know, a little background on this, that Loifa Breiv is this, you know, magical thing that is out during Christmas. It's ingrained with a lot of the families. I would probably say, you know, 85%, maybe even more. I'm not sure, but I mean, I've even seen it in a few Hallmark movies.
Honestly, like recently, I think the Quest was last year's Hallmark movie that got released and they went to a family's house and they were making the designs in the Loifabreuth. So it's a forever ingrained tradition. So if you want to incorporate... that into your family, Google it. I'll maybe even share a recipe in the show notes today just to spread the vibes here, right? Okay. Back to Thora's story. So the snow was falling lightly.
And twilight had begun its slow descent. And so that basically, as another side note, I keep interjecting here because it's such an exciting story. She's bringing up so many amazing points. During November, especially in late November. Like we are probably getting sunset, especially in that area where you're kind of tucked in between the mountains and the lake and all of that. It's probably around four o'clock. So when she talks about like.
twilight coming it's probably like 3 30 to 4 30 time period right and this is probably like maybe like a friday night or a saturday you're just going up for one night to meet your family and you know do this fabulous christmas tradition Since we had just arrived, I needed to take Loki out for a walk before we settled in for the night. But about 15 minutes away from the house, he stopped dead in his tracks, his fur raised.
And he growled. And not a playful bark either, but something more primal. I tried to see and understand what he was staring at. I saw him focused at the tree lined just beyond the path. So I got down to his level and started looking around to see what he might be staring at. And I saw two yellow eyes, not glowing. but reflecting light in a way no natural animals should. I thought maybe a fox or a rogue sheep might be in the area, but the height, it was eye level with me.
And I'm nearly 170 centimeters tall, aka five foot five. Then I saw movement. It stepped forward towards me. Long arms jointed the wrong. Skin like dried kelp. No face, just those eyes. Loki ran and I froze and felt like everything was in slow motion. And then the eyes felt like they started coming towards me. I'll be honest, I do not remember the walk home. I just remember the overwhelming cold that came from inside of my body.
not outside. After this, I have not stayed the night there outside of our months of midnight sun. Since then, I've also had dreams where the dream is the same situation over and over again. But when I wake up, I feel paralyzed. Some say the Rift Valley is a portal, not just between continents, but between. realms, and who knows what stares back from the cracks beneath our feet. Whoa, that was nuts, Thora.
¶ The Drumming at Hestfjall Mountain
Thank you so much for sharing with me and our listeners today. I am like riddled with goosebumps from head to toe right now. So story number two, I'm going to call the drumming. at Hestfjall. This has been sent in by a park ranger who wishes to remain anonymous. So I'm going to use the name Rainer. So Reiner's job takes him to the most remote parts of Iceland, where the land still belongs more to the spirits than to men. And his personal tale today takes us to Hestfjall, the horse mountain.
which is not really a frequently climbed mountain, and many locals say it should be left alone. Now you might be curious to know where Hestfjall is, right? Well, it is found in Borgerführer. in West Iceland, which is approximately an hour and a half drive north of the Reykjavik city limits. It started out with reports of hikers hearing strange drumming. Not thunder, not an earthquake or an eruption, not footsteps, drums. Said to sound slow, methodical.
and always just out of sight. Rainer decided to go and investigate. So his story begins with, I camped alone on the mountain's lower slope. It was quiet. until just after 2 a.m. during a summer night in July, when I heard it. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. It echoed unnaturally. as if the mountain itself had its own heartbeat. I hiked toward the sound with my flashlight. The air changed though. Somehow it felt heavier and more humid.
despite the cold temperature. Moss seemed darker, almost black. And then I saw them, figures in the distance, dancing in a wide circle. Not tourists, from what I could tell. They moved in perfect synchronization. No one said anything. No sound. Only the drumming. I shouted in their direction. No reaction. I got closer and that's when I realized they weren't standing on the ground. They were hovering an inch above the earth like puppets on strings.
Their faces looked empty, not deformed or hidden, just blank, like stone mass. The drumming grew louder, and it felt like it climbed inside of me. which felt unbearable. I sort of got double vision and I stumbled backward, closing my eyes. And just like that, they were gone when I opened them. The air cleared.
and the moss looked green again. I haven't gone back, and I'm not sure that I ever will either. After all, if the mountain beats with a heart of its own, perhaps it remembers those who tread. too close. Yeah, I'm not putting Hestfjall on my list. I'll tell you that right now. That is not happening. Although maybe if I brought a bottle of champagne and Vanessa in tow, maybe I might be convinced to go and check it out on like a midnight summer day.
¶ The Woman in the Steam
Not at 2 a.m. though. I'm not sure that I would have the guts to do that. All right. So story number three is going to be called The Woman in the Steam. This has been sent in by Eva. an Icelander who is now living in New York City. So this next story reminds us that even the most relaxing places, like Iceland's famous hot springs, can hold secrets as ancient as the land.
Itself. Eva recants. I was on a trip to Kravällr, which is a remote hot spring in the central Icelandic highlands in the late fall. We arrived just before dusk. and the steam was already rising thickly into the cold air. It looked magical. We had the hot springs to ourselves, and as we drank wine and soaked... We decided to tell ghost stories to each other, trying to scare each other, and we laughed between sips of wine. But everything went quiet. Suddenly no birds. Suddenly no wind.
and the bubbling of the hot spring stopped. Across the pool, a woman appeared in the steam. She looked like us, pale, young, and wearing a simple towel. hair tied in a bun, but she didn't move. She didn't speak. She just watched us. I waved, no reply. Come in, one of my friends joked. The woman tilted her head slowly. too far and began walking towards us in the water, but not climbing in, walking into it straight down. No ripples, no sound until her head.
vanished beneath the surface. We screamed and of course, backed up to the farthest end of the hot spring as it was happening. But then we immediately searched in the water, nothing, just heat. and sulfur. Later that night, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking I heard someone humming outside of the cabin. The sound was low and steady. It seemed to be a lullaby I didn't recognize.
When I finally got the courage to look out the window, there she was, soaking wet, humming, staring at me through the steam. I blinked, and she was gone. In asking the keeper of the mountain hut the next morning, he said that over centuries, there have been whispers about Krierkoner, women who dwell in hot springs, neither alive nor dead. luring the lonely to join them in the steam. Wowee, Ava, seriously. That is a tale that is going to haunt me on my future Highland journeys. That's for sure.
Thank you so much for sharing. And the story is a tiny bit reminiscent of the hot spring petty pot lady. Remember Guna from episode number 43 that Vanessa retold? I think there's something to these like.
¶ Ghost of Látrabjarg Cliffs
hot spring women. All right. So story number four is going to be entitled, Don't Look Down. This final and next tale comes from across the Atlantic. From Alex, who is a photographer from the Pacific Northwest in the USA, who visited the towering Latrebyarg cliffs in the West Fjords. The area is known for puffins. high winds, and endless drop-offs. The cliffs are a dream for nature and dynamic landscape lovers, but Alex brought back more than just photos. The story goes...
As Alex retells us, I went to Latterberg last summer to experience puffins. I had seen pictures of those adorable, almost cartoonish birds nesting on thousand foot cliffs, which I found absolutely irresistible. I took the ferry, drove hours on gravel roads, and finally reached the edge of the world, or at least what felt like it. The cliffs are unreal, like standing at the end of the earth.
It was late, almost midnight, but thankfully under the midnight sun, summer sunlight lingered, casting everything in that weird golden twilight. I was the only one there this night. So I walked along the edges of the cliffs with my gear. I was very careful not to disturb the birds or slip. There's a rope in some places, but not everywhere. So if you fall, that's it.
As I focused my lens, I started to hear something strange. A sort of whimpering. Not animal or bird. Human sounding. I turned to start looking around. expecting maybe a lost hiker, but there was no one, just wind. Then I heard it again, louder and closer. I realized it was coming from below me. from the cliffs. I leaned over slightly more to peer over, and I saw fingers, pale, long, clinging to the grass at the very edge.
Human hands. Someone was hanging there. I immediately dropped my belly and crawled forward, closer to the edge, shouting, hold on, I'll help you. No response, just shallow breaths. I reached out and I watched the hands let go. I scrambled to look, expecting to see someone falling, but there was nothing. No scream, no impact, just fog quickly curling upward towards me. I waited, frozen in place, my hands shaking.
But everything was just encompassed by fog suddenly. Then, just before I turned to leave, I looked down again. And I saw nothing. Heard nothing. I ran. Nearly drove off the road, getting out of there since I was so scared. Later, when I arrived to my accommodation that night, I told the local woman in Petriksführer what I had seen. She just nodded and said, they say some cliffs remember those who fall and they want company. Now, every time I hike, I look over the edges and I am forever haunted.
By this memory of my time in Iceland, Latra Bryarg is beautiful, deadly, remote. They warn you not to get too close to the edge, but no one ever warns you what ghostly hand. might be reaching back. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have nightmares this week over all of these listener tales. Thank you, Alex. It actually kind of reminds me a tiny bit.
Do you guys remember? Maybe, maybe not. But episode number, I think three was the ghost of Stoppy. The Icelandic cliff ghost that's down by like the airport area. It kind of reminds me a little bit of that because remember the story, go back and listen to it to refresh your memory. But this one also talked about clinging. to the cliffs and all of that. So it feels a little reminiscent of that. So I wonder if there is some kind of tale.
¶ Unexplained Icelandic Encounters & Outro
that is, you know, surrounded by those cliffs in the West Fjords. I'm going to have to do some digging and do some more research on that for maybe a local, another local tale. So today we had four tales. Four warnings. Whether it's in the mist, the moss, the mountains, or the cliffs, Iceland holds memories. And sometimes those memories stay with us for longer than we'd like. Thank you to Thora, Rainer, Ava, and Alex for sharing your stories with us today. And for those of you listening,
If you felt something strange in the dark, if the wind whispers your name, if something has watched you from beneath the ice, write in and share with us. Until next time, stay warm. Stay safe and be very aware of what might be lurking in the shadows or under the summer sun. Thank you for exploring the dark side of Iceland with me.
If these tales sent a shiver down your spine, good, because that means you're exactly where you're meant to be. More nightmare fuel is on the way weekly, so don't stray too far. And if you've had an unexplainable experience in Iceland, I'd love to hear about it.