
The world's ‘most peaceful country' is the perfect holiday destination for our turbulent times
Clustered in a valley below an arc of snow-streaked mountains, 1,320 boulders have been carefully arranged, some bearing a metal cross. Amassed by amateur history enthusiast Sigurður Hansen, the 600-tonne basaltic burial ground in Kakalaskáli pays homage to warriors killed in the Battle of Haugsnes in 1246 – the bloodiest period of unrest in Icelandic history.
Significantly, there hasn't been a major conflict since.
Once notorious for the furious frays, Viking rampages and clan warfare documented in the Icelandic Sagas, this windswept Nordic nation is now praised for being one of the most placid places in the world.
Announced earlier this week, Iceland has topped the Global Peace Index for the 18th year in a row.
At a time when political tensions are escalating globally, it's refreshing to find a country where war is a word found only in history books. There's no army, navy or air force, and the only blasts ever heard are volcanic rumblings from the earth's core.
So what's the secret to keeping the peace for almost 800 years?
The most obvious answer is survival; a small population in a remote location has no option but to stick together.
I was reminded of this fact last year on a trip to Iceland's Highlands. A few hours after I arrived, the mountain rescue service was alerted to a distress call from a missing hiker. A team of committed volunteers spent 48 hours searching day and night from land and air for what turned out to be a hoax. But fully aware of notoriously unpredictable weather, nobody takes any chances.
'Surviving in Iceland's harsh conditions has always required cooperation, not confrontation,' says Stefanía Dröfn Egilsdóttir, account manager at Visit Iceland, who grew up in a village of 300 people in the Westfjords.
'Maybe it's because we're a small society – everyone knows someone who knows someone, so there's a natural incentive to be kind and fair.'
This is, after all, home to one of the oldest parliamentary institutions in the world. From as early as 930AD, leaders would gather to discuss matters of law at Thingvellir, a canyon along the Mid-Atlantic ridge. The Eurasian and North American plates may be drifting apart, but matters of international diplomacy remain stable. Iceland has no natural enemies. (Unless you count the time England crashed out of the European Championships in 2016, a shock result local football fans still regale.)
Of course that doesn't mean disagreements don't occur. But people are more likely to use words as weapons rather than force.
'Through the ages we have made do with writing hateful verses about those who vex us instead of using violence,' says professional poet Gerður Kristný, who lives in capital Reykjavík. 'Icelanders see themselves as a nation of literature and we use what we have, the gift of poetry.'
She has a point. Writers, poets and artists have never shied away from the darker sides of life. To assume this is a happy-clappy Utopia on a par with Disney's Magic Kingdom would do Icelanders an enormous disservice. Traditional tales of child-eating ogres and thieving trolls are hardly Beatrix Potter. But tales of horror stay within the pages of storybooks.
'There are a lot of ways to calm your inner demons in Iceland,' adds Kristný. 'I recommend listening to the falling of snow.'
Nature is universally known for its ability to heal, especially in the extreme wilderness.
'There is something soothing to your mindset when you wake up and breathe fresh air every morning, look at the mountains outside your window and hear birds singing,' says Marteinn Briem, who runs city tours through CityWalk Reykjavik.
Ironically, a landscape of active volcanoes, unstable ice caves and melting glaciers has the potential to cause grave destruction. But such powerful natural forces also command respect and humility, quashing any over-inflated egos and reminding us we are a blip in the history of time.
'Nature brings us peace in its own quiet way,' adds fellow Reykjavik resident Hrafnhildur Þórisdóttir. 'It surrounds us and creates a sense of calm. All year round, we enjoy the beauty of Icelandic nature – from the bright summer nights and colourful autumn to snow-covered winter mountains and the first flowers of spring.
'Life here moves at a relatively slow pace. After a day of work, we can unwind in hot pools, go for a walk in nature or enjoy arts and culture.'
Whether drinking a beer in the Blue Lagoon or stuck in a snowdrift on top of a mountain, I've always felt at peace in Iceland. Residents often leave their doors unlocked, children cycle freely along main roads and babies frequently sit outdoors in strollers unaccompanied. How could you not feel safe?
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Times
4 hours ago
- Times
These are my favourite almost-secret beauty spots in Scotland
The North Coast 500, a loop of about 500 miles from Inverness around the northern Highlands, may only be marking its tenth anniversary this year, but it's already become the stuff of legend. Eye-popping crowds, imposing campervans, magnificent traffic jams — those superlatives once used to describe the scenery now more commonly used with a side of weary overwhelm to tell tales of overtourism. Who would want to join such a scrum? Fortunately you don't have to, because after more than a decade of rootling around back roads, clanging on to car ferries and nosing along promising-looking tracks and trails, I've found plenty of tucked-away spots across Scotland. These are some of my favourites. This article contains affiliate links that can earn us revenue Before the NC500 brought bucket-list tourism to the Highlands, the entire northwest was like this: deafening silence punctuated by seabird calls, a solitary single-track road slowly egging you on through ancient forest and across salt-sprayed moorland. Driving on to the Ardnamurchan peninsula on Scotland's west coast, you'll hug the coast of sinuous Loch Sunart, the Isle of Mull swinging in and out of view as you coil around chunky Ben Hiant and onwards to Ardnamurchan Lighthouse and Corrachadh Mòr, mainland Britain's westernmost craggy reach. It's worth pushing northwards to white-sand Sanna Bay for a bracing dip in turquoise waters, then stopping at West Ardnamurchan Community Garden's honesty shop for salad leaves and homemade sauces. Mingarry Park has contemporary bedrooms with private hot tubs, local venison for dinner and endlessly distracting mountain B&B doubles from £181 ( • Scotland travel guide At the far northern reaches of the Scottish mainland, the land seems taken over by water, pooled with lochs and sodden with bogland as the triangular wedge of Caithness and Sutherland extends into the North Sea. It's also often overtaken by NC500 road-trippers, rushing through on a loop that never veers too far from the coast. They're missing the real highlight: the UK's newest Unesco world heritage site, the Flow Country. These peatlands are like nowhere else on earth. Take the boardwalk through Forsinard Flows nature reserve and you'll see why, the colours underfoot shifting like an opal in the light as the wildlife darts out to meet you. You'll spot lizards, frogs and dragonflies plus birds aplenty and can climb the lookout tower for a hen harrier's view of it all. Forsinard Lodge has straightforward rooms a short amble from the nature B&B doubles from £115 ( Getting to Britain's most northerly inhabited island is an adventure in itself, leapfrogging via ferry from Shetland's mainland first to Yell, then on to Unst. Once you're here it's all big skies and broad landscapes, from creamy windswept beaches up to clifftop moorlands, with a generous scattering of Viking longhouses (at least 60) and even a spaceport licensed to send small rockets into orbit. For now, though, those skies are the preserve of the seabirds (puffins, gannets, guillemots) and dark enough by night to see the Milky Way or even the Mirrie Dancers from August to April (Shetlandic for the northern lights). 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Stay at the Factor's House B&B, its three bedrooms arranged around an almost 200-year-old home with views over the private gardens to the Cromarty Firth waters B&B doubles from £185 ( Despite being one of the best places in Europe to spot bottlenose dolphins, this slice of Scottish coastline near Inverness attracts a mere sprinkling of tourists. Why? You'll wonder as you winkle around in postcard-worthy villages that tumble down to ancient fishing harbours and burrow your toes into the sands of vast Findhorn beach. You'll want to visit Cullen for a bowl of the town's famous smoked haddock soup, Cullen skink, of course, plus cliff-clinging Findlater Castle; but if it's those dolphins you're after, among the best spots is Burghead, where the whitewashed visitor centre looks out over waters rich with marine life including dolphins, seals and whales. 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Afterwards, continue enjoying the view from Uig Sands, a restaurant with rooms that stares out across the beach and serves seafood suppers fresh from the Room-only doubles from £120 ( Ripples of sand rush up to meet you before a delicate thud and a gentle spray of seawater herald your arrival into Barra on the world's only scheduled beach landing. The second-southernmost of the inhabited Outer Hebrides islands defies easy pigeonholing: is it remote because it's 60-odd miles west of the mainland, or accessible because it's a one-hour direct flight from Glasgow? Either way, it's a beauty — its shell-rich beaches backed by tufty machair grassland, its largest village, Castlebay, low-slung around a curved shoreline that protects the offshore medieval stronghold Kisimul Castle. Take a coastal hike to spot seals basking on the rocks of Seal Bay and view a rainbow of summer wildflowers blooming in the machair. 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Telegraph
10 hours ago
- Telegraph
The world's ‘most peaceful country' is the perfect holiday destination for our turbulent times
Clustered in a valley below an arc of snow-streaked mountains, 1,320 boulders have been carefully arranged, some bearing a metal cross. Amassed by amateur history enthusiast Sigurður Hansen, the 600-tonne basaltic burial ground in Kakalaskáli pays homage to warriors killed in the Battle of Haugsnes in 1246 – the bloodiest period of unrest in Icelandic history. Significantly, there hasn't been a major conflict since. Once notorious for the furious frays, Viking rampages and clan warfare documented in the Icelandic Sagas, this windswept Nordic nation is now praised for being one of the most placid places in the world. Announced earlier this week, Iceland has topped the Global Peace Index for the 18th year in a row. At a time when political tensions are escalating globally, it's refreshing to find a country where war is a word found only in history books. There's no army, navy or air force, and the only blasts ever heard are volcanic rumblings from the earth's core. So what's the secret to keeping the peace for almost 800 years? The most obvious answer is survival; a small population in a remote location has no option but to stick together. I was reminded of this fact last year on a trip to Iceland's Highlands. A few hours after I arrived, the mountain rescue service was alerted to a distress call from a missing hiker. A team of committed volunteers spent 48 hours searching day and night from land and air for what turned out to be a hoax. But fully aware of notoriously unpredictable weather, nobody takes any chances. 'Surviving in Iceland's harsh conditions has always required cooperation, not confrontation,' says Stefanía Dröfn Egilsdóttir, account manager at Visit Iceland, who grew up in a village of 300 people in the Westfjords. 'Maybe it's because we're a small society – everyone knows someone who knows someone, so there's a natural incentive to be kind and fair.' This is, after all, home to one of the oldest parliamentary institutions in the world. From as early as 930AD, leaders would gather to discuss matters of law at Thingvellir, a canyon along the Mid-Atlantic ridge. The Eurasian and North American plates may be drifting apart, but matters of international diplomacy remain stable. Iceland has no natural enemies. (Unless you count the time England crashed out of the European Championships in 2016, a shock result local football fans still regale.) Of course that doesn't mean disagreements don't occur. But people are more likely to use words as weapons rather than force. 'Through the ages we have made do with writing hateful verses about those who vex us instead of using violence,' says professional poet Gerður Kristný, who lives in capital Reykjavík. 'Icelanders see themselves as a nation of literature and we use what we have, the gift of poetry.' She has a point. Writers, poets and artists have never shied away from the darker sides of life. To assume this is a happy-clappy Utopia on a par with Disney's Magic Kingdom would do Icelanders an enormous disservice. Traditional tales of child-eating ogres and thieving trolls are hardly Beatrix Potter. But tales of horror stay within the pages of storybooks. 'There are a lot of ways to calm your inner demons in Iceland,' adds Kristný. 'I recommend listening to the falling of snow.' Nature is universally known for its ability to heal, especially in the extreme wilderness. 'There is something soothing to your mindset when you wake up and breathe fresh air every morning, look at the mountains outside your window and hear birds singing,' says Marteinn Briem, who runs city tours through CityWalk Reykjavik. Ironically, a landscape of active volcanoes, unstable ice caves and melting glaciers has the potential to cause grave destruction. But such powerful natural forces also command respect and humility, quashing any over-inflated egos and reminding us we are a blip in the history of time. 'Nature brings us peace in its own quiet way,' adds fellow Reykjavik resident Hrafnhildur Þórisdóttir. 'It surrounds us and creates a sense of calm. All year round, we enjoy the beauty of Icelandic nature – from the bright summer nights and colourful autumn to snow-covered winter mountains and the first flowers of spring. 'Life here moves at a relatively slow pace. After a day of work, we can unwind in hot pools, go for a walk in nature or enjoy arts and culture.' Whether drinking a beer in the Blue Lagoon or stuck in a snowdrift on top of a mountain, I've always felt at peace in Iceland. Residents often leave their doors unlocked, children cycle freely along main roads and babies frequently sit outdoors in strollers unaccompanied. How could you not feel safe?


The Sun
a day ago
- The Sun
I went to the Greek island that's the ‘birthplace of marathons' and ran the most beautiful 13 miles in the world
I'M 16 kilometres in and almost sorry I only have five more to go. On my right are the sparkling seas and ancient fortifications of Rhodes; on my left, craggy hills rise up into the blue sky. 6 6 Around me are 4,500 sweaty other runners, all soaking up the beautiful course that is the TUI Rhodes half-marathon. I've run a lot of different places — along New York's Brooklyn Bridge, around France's Mont Saint-Michel, even in the moat at London's Tower of London — but this is easily one of the most beautiful. Starting in the middle of town, the two large 10km loops take the runners (some who will do it twice to complete a marathon) along the water's edge, past the town's old fortified walls, around the Rhodes Windmills, before throwing a hill or two in there to really get the heart pumping. I have always wanted to do a run in Greece — it's the birthplace of the marathon. And thanks to the stunning scenery, perfect climate and cheers of supportive locals, plus 700 volunteers who beam as they hand out gels and water along the way, I'm glad I've finally made it out here. At 20km in, I see the pro marathon runners on the other side of the course. And I realise that, thanks to the trail, these gazelles are likely to lap some of the slower half-marathon runners. I better pick up my pace. Soon, it's 500 metres to go, 400, 300 . . . suddenly, in the crowd, I spot my husband cheering me on and I give it one last push, thundering over the line in 1hr 55mins. I'm happy with the result, and even happier that, for the rest of the day, I have the Greek sun — and even more importantly, Greek food — to revive me. I'm here for the TUI Collection experiences, a package that allows you to get flights, sign up to run 5km, 10km, a half-marathon or even a marathon, and relax at an all-inclusive. The adult-only Greek hotel with laid-back DJs and hidden beach After all, as much as we all love a fly and flop, TUI have realised how hot running is currently. And they are happy to deliver packages to help you head to some of the most picturesque destinations for your next race. TUI are supporting more and more sports events, including a run (marathon, half, 10km and 5km) in Palma on October 19. Swim-up suites Tired out from my exertions, I spend the afternoon relaxing by the pool at the stunning, adults-only Imperial Atlantica resort, beside the shimmering Mediterranean and Kolymbia's Blue Flag beach. While the shoulder season means the sun disappears behind some clouds every so often, it's still warm enough to sunbathe — and is quieter and cheaper than the summer months. The facilities are that little bit quieter, too, meaning I get an easy slot in the hotel's sauna to help my muscles recover, and score a great spot by the pool. 6 6 Even in entry level rooms, you're treated to Nespresso coffee machines, bathrobes and slippers. And for extra luxury, you can plump for one of the swim-up suites that lead straight out onto the many pools winding their way through the resort. But if you get tired of relaxing, I would heartily recommend getting out of the hotel and exploring the local area. The Old Town in Rhodes is filled with fantastic shops and restaurants — and we fill up post-marathon with mouth-watering dolmades, tzatziki, stews and a final delectable bite of baklava. Meanwhile, you can sign up to olive oil or wine tasting courses, explore Lindos Acropolis and hike up the mountains that dot around the island. Our own trip is over too quickly, and we sit by our personal pool until the very last moment when the taxi arrives to drive us half an hour to the airport. But there's no chance I'll be forgetting this holiday. After all, unlike other trips, I have a physical medal as my souvenir. And we do all deserve a little reward now and then.